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You have to remember; you get at least 1 like per post because of @MorbidAltruism
I find it very strange that I've racked up this many likes this quickly...
Well, I would guess that people just find you funny or really smart.
I find it very strange that I've racked up this many likes this quickly...
You only get likes from MorbidAltruism if he's going to post in that topic and your post is on the same page Morbid's on.
*likes post inconspicuously so maybe he will remember about me*The Weaving of the Thread
A Story By
Sehnsucht
Featuring
The Social Thread Regulars
(and a few who gave me sass for not including them the first time)
(One of these days, I swear...)
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PREFACE:If you've been tagged in this post, then it means you either have appeared, currently appear, or will appear in the story (either as a major or minor character, or as a passing reference).
Since this is a multi-part narrative, you may not necessarily appear in this particular post; though if you have been tagged, you most definitely will appear in later parts, so keep on rockin' in the free world.
This is Act II of TWOTT. You may read Act I here.
You can see who does and doesn't appear in a particular Act by checking the bottom of the post (though that constitutes spoilers, so take that into account).
Additionally, there are usernames that I have added in between the completion of Act I and the writing of Act II; these DLC*** additions will be underlined in the username listings.
I don't think you guys quite understand just how unprepared you are for what's to come. If there are butts anywhere in your vicinity, now would be the time to hold on to them.
Let's-a go!
***Delayed Listing of Chumps
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ACT II
I HOPE YOU HAVE SOME KLEENEXES HANDY
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Previously, on The Weaving of the Thread:After leaving Crazy Al’s Bar, Vegito followed his newfound comrades to Plaza Square, at the heart of New Generica. There, by the fountain whose statue leaked water from every orifice, they convened to discuss their next course of action. Passersby avoided coming near them, repelled by the miasma of scrub that was quickly accruing there.
The guy from Monster Rancher has tasked six dudes to do battle with the dreaded Sehnsucht. But before they can face him at the Needle, this fellowship of gonzo ****ers must first prepare themselves for the treacherous journey ahead.
It's been a real sausagefest so far, and it's only going to get bratwurst from here...
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“So, where do we go first?” asked Nielicus, sniffing his finger because what.
“Well, Skimpysuit said we should go find Cream Cheese and Tasty Bran,” said Bidoof. “I say we do that. As a Normal-Type Pacman, I already have many attacks at my disposal. But I’d like to get some brass knuckles or something, just to be safe.”
“Getting armed would be a good idea,” said Cliff, pushing up his glasses. Cliff wore glasses because he was cool, you see. “But then again, we don’t know what we’re up against. It would be more logical to visit the Asylum first, to see what Chucklehead Tom can tell us about Sehnsucht and the Needle. Then, we’ll have a better idea of what equipment we should procure.”
“Sounds good to me!” agreed Nielicus, ever the follower. “What about you, Leenk?”
By way of response, Tewn gave a noncommittal shrug because he was afraid of genuine connection with other people.
Something then surged forth from the fountain, startling them. A drenched Kermit plopped his head on the fountain rim, holding on with his fins.
“As a blobfishinobi,” he said moistly, “I am always armed. In the briny deep, I was trained in the art of combat—” Then he slid back into the water despite himself, for it was his lot in life to be slippery.
“What about you, Vegito?” asked Cliff.
Vegito held his chin in contemplation, mulling over their options until he was reminded by Tewn that they didn’t have all night. “I agree with Cliff,” he said at last. “We should head to the Asylum.” Vegito liked the fuzzy feeling he was getting from being granted the opportunity of having a say in the matter.
“Alright, fine,” said Bidoof. “Anyone know where the Asylum is?”
“It’s up there,” pointed Tewn. And indeed, atop yonder rocky landmark was an imposing fortress of many tiers.
“Okay then, gang!” shouted Vegito, deciding to take the lead. “To the Asylum!”
He jumped in the air, holding an optimistic pose with his fist in the air. But he whiffed the landing, crashing on his knees with a yelp and a whimper. He got up to his knees, trying to brush it off as the others gave him no sympathy (
Kermit front flipped out of the water to join the rest, and with that, the six were off, leaving the piddling statue of TheDivineDeity behind.
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The Asylum was much larger than Vegito had estimated. The switchbacks on the cliffside made for an arduous climb. At the fore was CliffJumper, who lived up to his namesake by leaping up the switchbacks and waiting for the rest to catch up. Vegito told him that he thought the guy would’ve had a thing for jumping off cliffs, not up them. Looking down from his glasses, Cliff had scoffed at the notion, asking Vegito if he was trying to be funny.
With Cliff generally ahead, Mega Bidoof was the de facto leader of the convoy. He committed as best as he could in his otherkin roleplay on those inclines, walking on all fours to the degree his full-body costume allowed. Behind him was Nielicus, daydreaming of tribbing Nintendo executives.
Kermit the Ninja was the shortest of the group, being a blobfish; his geta sandals click-clacked on the hard ground as he waddled onward. And @tagging along at the back were Vegito and TewnLeenk.
“So what is this place, exactly?” asked Vegito, despite having been a resident of New Generica for much of his life.
“The Asylum of the Banned,” began Tewn, looking up at the structure. “Those who have committed grievous infractions against the Global Rules are kept there. All manner of dangerous, crazy, and ignorant people are held in their cells. Some repent to absolve themselves of their infraction points; others are permabanned, and can never leave. They say the warden is a Senator, and is the one who carries out their judgement.”
“A Senator?”
“They’re more powerful than even Moderators. But they serve greater forces, and so don’t have much free will; they’re singularly devoted to the burdens imposed upon them from on high.”
Vegito gazed at Tewn with amazement. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I’m a Back Roomer. I know these things.”
They soon caught up to Cliff once again, who hopped up another level in a single bound at Bidoof’s approach. As they progressed, Vegito tried his best to hold his tongue, but eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.
“So… What’s it like being a Back Roomer?” he asked Tewn.
“Okay, I guess,” responded Tewn. “I have to wear these green clothes, and I was branded on my ***. But I got to learn a lot about the way the world works, and I’m part of an extended brotherhood.”
“I knew that part. But I have to ask. What does the Back Room… do, exactly? I mean, what’s its purpose? I’ve always wanted to know.”
Tewn shrugged. “We basically get together on Fridays and just lie there.”
“Huh. Say, how did you get in the Back Room, anyway?”
“It’s pretty simple, actually,” said Tewn. “The Back Room isn’t fond of tryhards. The less hard you try, the likelier it is that you’ll get in.”
Vegito stopped in his tracks as the epiphany struck him. “Oooooooh.”
It all makes sense, now.
Soon enough, the gang reach the peak, passing through the outer portcullis to enter the courtyard of the Asylum of the Banned. Vegito marvelled at whatever forces must have fashioned this immense beige temple to reprimand, seeming to have been chiseled into what had once been the summit of this rocky landmark.
In the courtyard was a pedestal upon which sat an airhorn, tethered by a chain. The nearby sign explained that visitors were to use it to signal their arrival.
“I suppose that must be the doorbell,” said Cliff.
“Who’s gonna press it?” asked Kermit.
Glances were exchanged. It seemed no one was quite willing to draw the attention of the beings that tended to this place.
In the end, TewnLeenk was the one who stepped forward. Taking the airhorn, he aimed it toward the Asylum. He pressed the horn once, then thrice again.
The horn’s blare echoed and faded into the night sky. Tewn replaced the horn on the pedestal. Nothing occurred.
“I guess we wait,” Nielicus said after moments of standstill.
“We should go wait by the main gate,” suggested Cliff.
The group heeded Cliff’s sound advice, presenting themselves before the massive gate. Into the gate was etched a fresco of intermingled bodies, some more human than others. The tableau was chaotic, river rapids frothing of people.
“By the way,” Bidoof began as they waited. “Do we have a name? You know, for our group or whatever?”
“Why would we need a name?” Kermit replied. “It’s not like we’ll be needing one.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a clan name,” said Nielicus. “Something awesome and badass—”
The ground shook as the gate began to open from the top down.
Rays of light poked through the widening crack, becoming brighter as the gate descended. Slowly, a figure was revealed; through their fingers, they could only make out a dark silhouette. Once the gate had lowered fully into the ground and the light had dimmed, the figure stepped forward, revealing himself fully.
It was a man, though not like any they had ever seen.
He descended the few steps before the gate, and they were mesmerized by the relaxed fluidity in the alternation of his legs and the sway of his hips. He wore a robe of thin satin, dark with lighter floral patterns and tied at the midriff with a sash; what flesh wasn’t already exposed in that loose fabric was teased in the slight transparency of his garb, which suggested that nothing but the robe was clothing him.
At the foot of the steps, he halted before the assembled six. He was a Euclidean marvel, the contours of his supple, tasteful musculature coming together in geometric bliss. His hair, which was of a certain colour, seemed to shine with the fire of life itself. He had an almost otherworldly quality, a foot in this world and the other in some unseen place unknown to mortal ken.
The six could hardly do anything other than stare at this man. So steamy was the sight that Mega Bidoof removed his Bidoof helm to get a better look, revealing the flushed face of the man beneath—though Vegito lacked the pop culture savvy to realize that it was Dana Carvey.
“I am Senator Aerodrome. Warden of the Asylum of the Banned.”
His voice oozed sex and authority. Vegito found himself at once confused, disturbed, and confused. Aerodrome subtly shifted his weight to his opposing hip, causing Kermit’s breath to hitch.
“What is the name of your group?” the Senator asked.
Glances were traded. Before anyone could speak up, Vegito took to the floor.
“We’re…uh…the Band! Of, um… uh, the Band w-waaaa... goners. Ehem.”
The sound of TewnLeenk’s palmface slapped from the back. Even Vegito cringed, realizing the terrible quality of the name as he spoke it. He never did well when put on the spot.
“The Bandwagoners,” repeated Aerodrome. “Right, then. What brings you to the Asylum of the Banned?”
“We need to speak to the one called Chucklehead Tom,” Vegito responded.
Aerodrome’s eyelids lowered slightly as he examined the party. “What business do you have with that one? He’s in the highest tier of the Asylum, permabanned for being cray.”
“We’ve been tasked by the Light Music Club to destroy Sehnsucht at the Needle,” explained Cliff. “Chucklehead is the only known person who’s been to the Needle and back. We need to interrogate him to see what he knows.”
The corner of the Senator’s delectable lips tugged in thought. Two of his fingers grazed his impeccable jawline.
“…Hmmmm…” His adam’s apple moved just so. It was glorious. “I’ll allow it,” he decreed. “You get five minutes with him, and not a second more. Speak to no one you see along the way. Remain clear of the cells. And if any one of you plebes touches me with your smeggy fingers, you’ll have a go at the Sandpaper Steep n’ Slide. Capice? Good. Come along, now.”
Aerodrome turned and ascended the steps, entering the gateway. Carvey replaced his head, becoming Mega Bidoof once more. Steeling himself, Vegito followed, as did the rest of the Bandwagoners.
The lobby of the Asylum was gargantuan. Three corridors branched off, before them and to either side. Aerodrome went for the center path, satin kimono rustling in his grace and poise. Most notable to Vegito, however, were not the smooth stone surfaces, but the speakers, playing a particularly groovy beat reflective of the Senator’s refined aesthetic.
The music reverberated through the corridor, masking the yells and screams and banter of the Asylum’s residents that came from the cells. They consisted of solid doors with barred portholes, alternating left and right on the corridor walls. Each cell had a plaque identifying its present occupant.
“YOUUU!” The Bandwagoners jumped as an inmate banged against their cell door, fingers wriggling like worms through the bars. The name on the plaque read ARIGARMY. “I see ya! Ooooh, I wanna TACH ya—”
HWA-CLACK
Arigarmy recoiled with a start as the Senator’s whip lapped at the grate. “Keep it in your cell!”
“Geez,” said Tewn. “What’s he in for?”
“He’s a bit of a rabble-rouser,” said Aerodrome. He looked to the cell with a sort of detached disdain; it made his eyes seem even more intense. “Kind of manic, but relatively harmless. Unless you let him get the best of you.”
Arigarmy peered up through the grate, eyeing the Bandwagoners with his perturbed eyes. Aerodrome’s whip cracked again, and Arigarmy retreated further into his cell for safety, muttering all the while.
“This way, pequeños.”
The group resumed their sojourn. The Senator kept the whip coiled at his fist. Vegito didn’t remember seeing the whip when Aerodrome greeted them in the courtyard. He wondered where he had kept it. That robe didn’t seem to have any pockets.
They soon reach the heart of the Asylum—a circular chamber of many tiers, bridges crisscrossing above over many levels. The walls were lined with many cells, hosting the trolls, the spambots, and the clueless. The occupants called out to Aerodrome as they passed, who was quick to respond with his whip. REBELLIOUS TREECKO called for the end of all government, but they didn’t listen, which delighted his contrarian heart. THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS ARMLESS PUPPETEER pleaded for the Bandwagoners to notice them, asking if they liked their makeover—hoping for someone, anyone, to validate their sense of self. They passed by the cell of DANIEL DAY-LEWIS, who had originally come to the Asylum to study for a role, but had so committed to his character that he thought he actually belonged there.
Each inmate they passed proved more bizarre than the last. The tracks on the intercom continued to cycle; there was always something funky fresh for the listener’s enjoyment. They ascended level by level, trying their best to resist falling under the influence of the Senator’s callipygian hypnosis.
“We’re here,” announced Aerodrome as they conquered the last curving stairwell. The Bandwagoners were panting from the exertion. Aerodrome, on the other hand, had yet to break a sweat, not a drop on his nicely tan skin. “This is the highest tier of the Asylum, where we keep the Permabanned. Their IPs addresses have been blocked, and they are thus fated to never again access the outside world. Tread carefully.”
Already, they could tell that this level was different. It felt like the aura of the permabanned themselves was pouring out of of the grates of their cell doors, flooding the hall up to the nips.
As before, each cell had a name plaque. This time, however, the nature of their offense was also included, graven beneath the names.
One cell belonged to PACACK, for the offense of BEING GROSS. As he passed by, Vegito tiptoed to peer through the bars, finding a figure facing away, hunched over. True to the significance of his name, the walls of his cell were covered in cack.
Another cell held a certain SMOOTH CRIMINAL. As they passed by, Vegito noted the hulking and unnaturally smooth-skinned man holed up inside. With a deep, dangerous voice, he called out to the Bandwagoners as he heard their collective footsteps.
“Hey yo Aero baby! You bringin’ some friends over to play? And it ain’t even my birthday, yet, ha-HA! Smooth Criminal.”
Vegito wasn’t sure why HAVING TOURETTES warranted one’s permabanning; he figured that there must be more to the Asylum’s system of justice than he could ever know.
Aerodrome halted. “We’re here.”
The Bandwagoners congregated within the atrium at the end of the hall, where the final door was found. No sound came from the grate in the door. Nielicus needlessly read the plaque’s words aloud.
CHUCKLEHEAD TOM
BURDENED WITH DANGEROUS KNOWLEDGE
AND BEING WHACK
BECAUSE OF AFOREMENTIONED BURDEN
“So who’s going in?” asked the Senator. He leaned languidly against the wall, shoulders propping him up as his torso curved out, arms hanging limp at his side. “I’m only letting one of you songlings in there.”
“Allow me,” said Cliff. “I think if anyone, I should be able to reason with a madman.”
Hearing no contest, Aerodrome redressed himself off the wall. “Tommy boy’s unhinged, and unpredictable. If you ever have trouble, make some noise.” The Senator then gave an underhand tap to the door, open palm smacking the stone facade. Unseen mechanisms tumbled, and the cell door gave way to a dim space. Cliff gave a last look to the Bandwagoners before pushing up his glasses. Then he entered, the cell door closing behind him.
The Bandwagoners stood awkwardly in the atrium because they weren’t comfortable with being themselves (the Senator was the clear exception, as he had long ago learned to love himself fully).
“…ha ha ha HA GET OUT!”
Cliff called out, and the Senator opened the door not twenty seconds after Cliff had gone inside. Composing himself, he addressed the group.
“I… couldn’t reach through to him. I tried to explain myself to him, but the more I spoke, the more laughed and told me to stahp. I don’t think he understood a word that I said.”
“So what now?” asked Vegito.
“I think you might be better suited for this interrogation," said Cliff.
“Me? Why?”
"His mind isn't wired for conventional social interaction. He's mercurial and scatterbrained. We need someone who has a better chance of understanding his point of view." Cliff turned to Aerodrome. "Senator? Do you mind if Vegito gives it a try?”
Aerodrome ran a hand through his hairhnnnng. “No one’s been able to reach him. Not even me. But your five minutes are still ticking. So do what you want.”
Aerodrome lovetapped the door again, granting entry. Vegito felt meek before the entrance. He looked back to find his comrades watching on in anticipation.
“You can do it, Vegito!” exclaimed Nielicus. It was a tad unnerving to see such a nondescript face smile, but Vegito appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
“Yeah, show this guy who’s the Elite Four,” added Bidoof.
Kermit gave him a fins-up, though it was hard to tell how enthused he was when his lips were in constant state of droop. Cliff nodded solemnly, and Tewn was too distracted by the Senator to pay attention. Vegito channelled his spirit chi power or whatever and entered the cell.
The door slid shut behind him. He could still hear intercom outside laying phat beats, though the sound was diluted within that confined space.
What immediately struck the boy were the lines.
A single light illuminated the room, revealing the straight lines that were scored on the walls and floor and ceilings, intersecting at various points and angles. If there was a greater design to this crazed hatching and crosshatching, Vegito couldn’t discern it; staring at the patterns made him increasingly uneasy, and his stomach knotted as the truth behind the pattern fluttered at the edges of his subconscious understanding, just out of reach.
“…under and over and under again.”
Vegito pivoted with a brusque motion to face his interlocutor, who was sitting in the corner, resting his forearms on his knees.
“…Tom?”
Chucklehead Tom raised his head, speaking to the air. “That’s what we say when we crochet, heh.”
Vegito gulped. “Uh… Hello, there. My name is Vegito.”
Tom’s eyes immediately locked on to Vegito, and he guffawed without restraint. “That’s a funny-*** name you got there, kid!”
Tom got to his feet, shaking his head. Then he took out what might have once been a fork and began scraping at a section of wall, snickering as he extended an unfinished line. Vegito knew that he was being timed, and the Senator didn’t seem like the lenient sort. Vegito wracked his brain for an angle to work Tom over; to the chagrin of the author, Vegito wasn’t as dimwitted as he appeared, and had the novel insight of trying to think as Tom thought, to speak his language.
“Hey, Tom. You like to laugh, don’t you?"
“I sure do.” Tom didn’t look up from his work. He scraped at the stone wall with short, delicate strokes. “Love to laugh. Yes I do yesiree aw yiss.”
“Why was the rooster afraid to cross the road?” asked Vegito. The boy let a moment elapse. “Because he was too chicken!”
Chucklehead Tom turned around with a blank expression, and he did not chuckle. “That isn’t funny at all!” he exclaimed.
Vegito’s face fell, and rightly so. Tom turned around, continuing his compulsory marking. “Well, why don’t you try to make me laugh?” Vegito said. “What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
Tom got excited, digging into the wall with greater verve. “Oh, man. Oh man oh man oh man. So many funny things out there. Like the sound when you pinch the tip of a balloon and let the air out real slow. Or when I struck him and saw what lied beneath. The needle pricked me and I’ve been in stitches ever since, ooo-hoo-hoo. Never gets old. Maybe the best I’ve had was watching the Chappelle Show. Lawdy, ain't that some funny ****!"
“Tell me more about the needle,” pressed Vegito after Tom's lols died down.
“You gotta be careful with needles, mang. You can hurt yourself if you got clumsy fingers. You have to hold them just right. Under and over and under again. That’s how you gotta do it. Stitches and sutures, knits and knots. Heh. Heh heh. We’re all just strands in a big ball of yarn, aren’t we?”
“Tell me about Sehnsucht, Tom.” Vegito took a step closer, the another. “If I wanted to make him LHFAO, what would I say?”
“Everything is funny to him. Always laughing. I heard him in the Eye of the Needle. When I close my eyes, I can hear his voice. And then I start laughing, too! What's up with that?"
Tom broke into a chortle, followed by a couple of cackles before he finished with a hearty titter. At this point, Vegito thought he had a hook on Tom, and so tried to reel him in.
“How do I get to the Eye of the Needle, Tom? How do I get rid of Sehnsucht?”
The next thing Vegito knew, he was being pushed by Tom, who held him by the collar. They tumbled upon his bed, with Tom looming over him.
“He is unending, child. He came from behind the firmament, and trod the newborn earth. He knows the words to the song in your heart. He has many faces, and the end of one brings about another. He has pierced the needle in me, and the truth is threaded through me at the rhythm of my pulse!"
As Tom spoke with crazed fervour, Vegito’s sphincter clenched so tight that he strongly doubted he would ever **** again. “You… you said you struck him, and saw what lied beneath,” said the boy, shying away from Tom as best he could. “How did you do it?”
“He is quick, he is strong, he is resilient. He sees you coming. He is misdirection. I know his mind. I have seen it. Do you see him, boy?"
“Sehnsucht?”
At this, Tom stopped, seeming to become lucid. Then, he began to laugh, as though Vegito had said the funniest he really had ever heard. The man rolled off the bed and fell to the floor, curling in belly laughter, bulging eyes threatening to burst right out of their sockets.
Just then, the cell door opened. The Senator peeked in.
“Alright, munchkin. Time’s up.”
Vegito looked down at Tom as a puddle of urine began to form where he lay. The howling laughter did not relent as Vegito exited the cell, the door sliding back into position.
“Good Guru Nanak, bruh,” said Tewn. “What did you do? Show him your peen?”
“Ha! Nice,” said Bidoof, and he bumped knuckles with a self-satisfied grin.
“Did you learn anything in there?” asked Kermit.
“I’m not sure what I learned,” said Vegito. “But from what I understood from Tom, Sehnsucht ain’t no joke. It might not even be possible to defeat him.”
“Still,” said Cliff, “we must try. We have a responsibility and a duty.”
“HE SAID DOODIE!” cried Chucklehead from his cell. “OOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAH!”
Aerodrome began to move, and his Old Spice aroma drew their attention. Vegito noticed that his whip was nowhere to be seen. “If you’re all done, I’ll show you the way out. Follow me.”
The Bandwagoners fell into line behind the Senator, surrounding by the cries of the Banned. After a few turns, they reached a domed chamber. In the center of the ceiling was embedded a gleaming brass pole; it went straight down into a hole in the floor. The gang cautiously peered into the hole, seeing that the pole went down very far.
“This pole goes all the way down to the ground level,” explained Aerodrome. “All you need to do is slide. Use your thighs to control your descent. And take some of this hand sanitizer; I won’t let you pass unless you do.”
Aerodrome was now holding a bottle of green liquid. They formed a line, holding out their hands and scrubbing their hands with the stuff until the Senator was satisfied.
They began their descent. Cliff went first; they watched him recede as he crossed the tiers of the Asylum. Then went Nielicus, yelling gleefully as he went down. Mega Bidoof zipped like a bullet, as his soft costume provided little traction. Kermit did an aerial twist as a segue to the mount, though an error in execution caused him to latch onto the pole upside down, and he cursed himself as he slid out of view. TewnLeenk hesitated before grabbing the pole; he went down slowly, in stops and starts. Vegito was last to go.
“Hey, Senator,” he said. “Thanks you for your time.”
Vegito prepared to leave, but Aerodrome spoke.
“Hey, little dove. It’s dangerous to go at it alone. Take this.”
When Vegito turned, Aerodrome had already tossed the item, though Vegito managed to catch it. He examined the bottle in his hand, which turned out to be some SlickWylde Vaseline. The bottle was curiously warm.
“Um… thanks,” said Vegito, stuffing the bottle in his coat pocket. Aerodrome winked. I can’t even.
Then Vegito hopped onto the pole, crossing his legs firmly. As he began his controlled descent, he looked up, seeing Aerodrome watching him slide down from above. There was a brief moment where Vegito thought he might have caught a glance up the Senator’s robe, and he almost passed out and fell to his death.
And throughout the Asylum of the Banned, the song carried on.
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END OF ACT II
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Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
Chucklehead Tom had a lot to say. Chances are there's a significance to his words that isn't apparent at first glance. And of course there would be. This is my story, so nothing is random.
So it is that Act II ends, and there are more Acts to come. This story is becoming something rather big, and perhaps a little bit special. It's a bit daunting, but I feel as though it's my duty (shut up) to see it through.
And now, the rosteras detailed in Corocoro:
[collapse=DRAMATIS PERSONAE]
Non-spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO APPEARED OR WERE MENTIONED (IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)]
@Rocket Raccoon
@Nielicus
@Swampasaur
@Cap'nChreest
@ToasterBrains
@Mega Bidoof
@CliffJumper
@Chucklehead Tom
(Me, Sehnsucht!)
@TewnLeenk
@Kermit the Ninja
(The Divine Deity)***
@Aerodrome
@The Light Music Club
@Arigarmy
@Rebellious Treecko
@Lizardon
@Pacack
@Smooth Criminal
@SlickWylde
Total: 19 users
***I was not around in the apparently infamous DivineDeity days, but I figured there are those who might appreciate the reference, so I wrote it in anyway. That may make me a hack, but at least I'm a cutie.
[/collapse]
Kind of spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO HAVE YET TO BE MENTIONED, OR WON'T SHOW UP AGAIN (IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER))]
@Backgammon
@allison
@CrophMaruMariolu2W0vol41PEeeeeek
@dimensionsword64
@FalKoopa
@Frostwraith
@GoldenYuiitusin
@Hong
@WolfieXVII ❂
@IsmaR
@Kaye Cruiser
@KenithTheGatherer
@MaskO'Gears
@MisterVideoGaming
@Moon Monkey
@MorbidAltruism
@MSmariosonic
@Ndayday
@8-peacock-8
@PLATINUM7
@PsychoIncarnate
@Quilt Reversal
@RaccoonBL
@Radical Beam
@ScatmansWorld25
@Shaya
@skaaaa
@TeenGirlSquad
@TheFirstPoppyBro
@The Original Robot boy
@TitanTeaTime
@Zhadgon
Total: 32 users
[/collapse]
[/collapse]
If I missed anyone, or neglected to include them in the above list and/or in the story, then go walk around your place of residence a few times. If you are on this list, and would prefer not to be, then that'll teach you to think twice before posting (semi)frequently in the Social Thread.
Also, I am no longer going to include usernames to the list (unless I have somehow neglected to include any actual regular posters in the Social Thread). There are only so many cameos and references that I can pack in here. I must strike a compromise between representation and storytelling. Any further inclusions will be at my discretion.
Ahem.
Act III will come at a later time. I will work on it at my own pace, and release periodic status updates in this thread until it's ready to be posted. I will repeat this process until all Acts of TWOTT have been posted in this thread.
Until then, pequeños.
--Sehnsucht
It's tomorrow morning for you guys because for Americans it's late at night.
I did enjoy Project X Zone, though admittively I thought it kind of dragged out in the last 5-7 chapters but that's just me.
I remember that game having some serious graphic slowdown issues. Like, nearly everything was slow and choppy in the framerate. My brother and I just simply gave up playing it because every last thing was so laggy.
Yeah it's really laggy, though I will say when the game actually DOES go at a good framerate, it actually doesn't look that bad.
Thanks! It feels good knowing that someone else knows about Slayers.
Agreed, they were too damn big by strategy game standards. I loved Selvaria and Nemesis being villains, but hated Reila's inclusion since it reminds me of why Sega didn't bother localizing the 3rd Valkyria Chronicles games. The House of the Dead representation was also bad (No Agent G and Detective Mother****ing Washington?
)
I'm an old school anime fan. I don't touch the new stuff (lest it's Dragon Ball or something carried on from an old one, then I give it a chance). Last anime I really enjoyed was Bo-bobo. After that I tapped out of the whole scene more or less. For me, it's all about the old stuff. Slayers, Dragon Ball, Tenchi Muyo (before GXP/OAV 3 wrecked it.), Cutey Honey, Dirty Pair, Speed Racer, Digimon, Pokemon, Ranma 1/2, Urusei Yatsura, Escaflowne, all that stuff... and the first 2 anime I ever saw in my life, The Fantastic Adventures of Unico and Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics (back when Nickelodeon didn't do original programming yet.)Thanks! It feels good knowing that someone else knows about Slayers.
Lol, Morbid likes posts before I even post. I think he's psychic.
Honestly, I only recognized about half the cast. However, being a smash fan has kind of shown that I don't have to know all the characters in the game to enjoy a crossover.Agreed, they were too damn big by strategy game standards. I loved Selvaria and Nemesis being villains, but hated Reila's inclusion since it reminds me of why Sega didn't bother localizing the 3rd Valkyria Chronicles games. The House of the Dead representation was also bad (No Agent G and Detective Mother****ing Washington?
use the search function" is "like" farming.
Inb4 you get no likes.Social threads are "like" farms. I guess they're like farms too in that sense.
Going into a thread and saying the popular opinion + GIF is farming for likes too.
Making a joke about a dumb threads topic is "like" farming.
Being a mod is "like"farming.
Being a senator is the opposite of "like" farming.
Saying at the appropriate time "guys lets not make this a Melee vs Brawl discussion" is "like" farming.
Going to a thread that is the second one of that topic and posting " there's a thread for this
This post is "like" farming.
Oh, that's good. Let's hope they are able to find someone as able as Miyazaki.
It's a very popular Summer time drink here, as you can easily make it at home.
That tag spam was irksome, I'm telling you. Unlike your case, there were many tagging him just for the sake of it. >:/At this rate, bluepikmin is going to beat my 237 alerts with just tags when he comes back.
See? I didn't tag him because he has too much already
imo it shouldn't be a game, we didn't really like the tagging spam we saw today ~_~At this rate, bluepikmin is going to beat my 237 alerts with just tags when he comes back.
See? I didn't tag him because he has too much already
It's obvious isn't it? You have a good avatar with a border around it. It's basically guaranteed to make everyone read your posts because its wrapped up in such an aesthetically pleasing way.
I find it very strange that I've racked up this many likes this quickly...
~ (Yes, I have immorally spun my incompetence for my own gain).
What is she doing with Waluigi?
That's her buddy Boyacky. She actually has two cronies, Tonzura (a strong short squat one) and Boyacky (the twig thin crafty one). Yatterman is just one of those shows that has gone on to influence umpteen other shows/games, even years after it was over. The whole concept of a trio of dimwitted bad guys consisting of an attractive woman, a strong guy and a smart guy has been repeated countless times over (Team Rocket, Pilaf Gang, Cia, Valga and Wizzro, etc.) , obviously Boyacky's character design seems to have greatly influenced Waluigi, and a host of other things.
I guess Sakurai's late birthday present was to see the tears of Sable supporters.
Maybe you can save up some cash to get another one. I had to get another Gamecube too, it only cost me like 30 bucks. Your memory cards didn't mess up either did they?
Is it working?Captain Falcon is awesome.
I was joking when I said that, but thanks for the info anyway.
I kind of figured that, but I felt like explaining anyway.
I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT!The Weaving of the Thread
A Story By
Sehnsucht
Featuring
The Social Thread Regulars
(and a few who gave me sass for not including them the first time)
(One of these days, I swear...)
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PREFACE:If you've been tagged in this post, then it means you either have appeared, currently appear, or will appear in the story (either as a major or minor character, or as a passing reference).
Since this is a multi-part narrative, you may not necessarily appear in this particular post; though if you have been tagged, you most definitely will appear in later parts, so keep on rockin' in the free world.
This is Act II of TWOTT. You may read Act I here.
You can see who does and doesn't appear in a particular Act by checking the bottom of the post (though that constitutes spoilers, so take that into account).
Additionally, there are usernames that I have added in between the completion of Act I and the writing of Act II; these DLC*** additions will be underlined in the username listings.
I don't think you guys quite understand just how unprepared you are for what's to come. If there are butts anywhere in your vicinity, now would be the time to hold on to them.
Let's-a go!
***Delayed Listing of Chumps
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ACT II
I HOPE YOU HAVE SOME KLEENEXES HANDY
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Previously, on The Weaving of the Thread:After leaving Crazy Al’s Bar, Vegito followed his newfound comrades to Plaza Square, at the heart of New Generica. There, by the fountain whose statue leaked water from every orifice, they convened to discuss their next course of action. Passersby avoided coming near them, repelled by the miasma of scrub that was quickly accruing there.
The guy from Monster Rancher has tasked six dudes to do battle with the dreaded Sehnsucht. But before they can face him at the Needle, this fellowship of gonzo ****ers must first prepare themselves for the treacherous journey ahead.
It's been a real sausagefest so far, and it's only going to get bratwurst from here...
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“So, where do we go first?” asked Nielicus, sniffing his finger because what.
“Well, Skimpysuit said we should go find Cream Cheese and Tasty Bran,” said Bidoof. “I say we do that. As a Normal-Type Pacman, I already have many attacks at my disposal. But I’d like to get some brass knuckles or something, just to be safe.”
“Getting armed would be a good idea,” said Cliff, pushing up his glasses. Cliff wore glasses because he was cool, you see. “But then again, we don’t know what we’re up against. It would be more logical to visit the Asylum first, to see what Chucklehead Tom can tell us about Sehnsucht and the Needle. Then, we’ll have a better idea of what equipment we should procure.”
“Sounds good to me!” agreed Nielicus, ever the follower. “What about you, Leenk?”
By way of response, Tewn gave a noncommittal shrug because he was afraid of genuine connection with other people.
Something then surged forth from the fountain, startling them. A drenched Kermit plopped his head on the fountain rim, holding on with his fins.
“As a blobfishinobi,” he said moistly, “I am always armed. In the briny deep, I was trained in the art of combat—” Then he slid back into the water despite himself, for it was his lot in life to be slippery.
“What about you, Vegito?” asked Cliff.
Vegito held his chin in contemplation, mulling over their options until he was reminded by Tewn that they didn’t have all night. “I agree with Cliff,” he said at last. “We should head to the Asylum.” Vegito liked the fuzzy feeling he was getting from being granted the opportunity of having a say in the matter.
“Alright, fine,” said Bidoof. “Anyone know where the Asylum is?”
“It’s up there,” pointed Tewn. And indeed, atop yonder rocky landmark was an imposing fortress of many tiers.
“Okay then, gang!” shouted Vegito, deciding to take the lead. “To the Asylum!”
He jumped in the air, holding an optimistic pose with his fist in the air. But he whiffed the landing, crashing on his knees with a yelp and a whimper. He got up to his knees, trying to brush it off as the others gave him no sympathy (
Kermit front flipped out of the water to join the rest, and with that, the six were off, leaving the piddling statue of TheDivineDeity behind.
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The Asylum was much larger than Vegito had estimated. The switchbacks on the cliffside made for an arduous climb. At the fore was CliffJumper, who lived up to his namesake by leaping up the switchbacks and waiting for the rest to catch up. Vegito told him that he thought the guy would’ve had a thing for jumping off cliffs, not up them. Looking down from his glasses, Cliff had scoffed at the notion, asking Vegito if he was trying to be funny.
With Cliff generally ahead, Mega Bidoof was the de facto leader of the convoy. He committed as best as he could in his otherkin roleplay on those inclines, walking on all fours to the degree his full-body costume allowed. Behind him was Nielicus, daydreaming of tribbing Nintendo executives.
Kermit the Ninja was the shortest of the group, being a blobfish; his geta sandals click-clacked on the hard ground as he waddled onward. And @tagging along at the back were Vegito and TewnLeenk.
“So what is this place, exactly?” asked Vegito, despite having been a resident of New Generica for much of his life.
“The Asylum of the Banned,” began Tewn, looking up at the structure. “Those who have committed grievous infractions against the Global Rules are kept there. All manner of dangerous, crazy, and ignorant people are held in their cells. Some repent to absolve themselves of their infraction points; others are permabanned, and can never leave. They say the warden is a Senator, and is the one who carries out their judgement.”
“A Senator?”
“They’re more powerful than even Moderators. But they serve greater forces, and so don’t have much free will; they’re singularly devoted to the burdens imposed upon them from on high.”
Vegito gazed at Tewn with amazement. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I’m a Back Roomer. I know these things.”
They soon caught up to Cliff once again, who hopped up another level in a single bound at Bidoof’s approach. As they progressed, Vegito tried his best to hold his tongue, but eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.
“So… What’s it like being a Back Roomer?” he asked Tewn.
“Okay, I guess,” responded Tewn. “I have to wear these green clothes, and I was branded on my ***. But I got to learn a lot about the way the world works, and I’m part of an extended brotherhood.”
“I knew that part. But I have to ask. What does the Back Room… do, exactly? I mean, what’s its purpose? I’ve always wanted to know.”
Tewn shrugged. “We basically get together on Fridays and just lie there.”
“Huh. Say, how did you get in the Back Room, anyway?”
“It’s pretty simple, actually,” said Tewn. “The Back Room isn’t fond of tryhards. The less hard you try, the likelier it is that you’ll get in.”
Vegito stopped in his tracks as the epiphany struck him. “Oooooooh.”
It all makes sense, now.
Soon enough, the gang reach the peak, passing through the outer portcullis to enter the courtyard of the Asylum of the Banned. Vegito marvelled at whatever forces must have fashioned this immense beige temple to reprimand, seeming to have been chiseled into what had once been the summit of this rocky landmark.
In the courtyard was a pedestal upon which sat an airhorn, tethered by a chain. The nearby sign explained that visitors were to use it to signal their arrival.
“I suppose that must be the doorbell,” said Cliff.
“Who’s gonna press it?” asked Kermit.
Glances were exchanged. It seemed no one was quite willing to draw the attention of the beings that tended to this place.
In the end, TewnLeenk was the one who stepped forward. Taking the airhorn, he aimed it toward the Asylum. He pressed the horn once, then thrice again.
The horn’s blare echoed and faded into the night sky. Tewn replaced the horn on the pedestal. Nothing occurred.
“I guess we wait,” Nielicus said after moments of standstill.
“We should go wait by the main gate,” suggested Cliff.
The group heeded Cliff’s sound advice, presenting themselves before the massive gate. Into the gate was etched a fresco of intermingled bodies, some more human than others. The tableau was chaotic, river rapids frothing of people.
“By the way,” Bidoof began as they waited. “Do we have a name? You know, for our group or whatever?”
“Why would we need a name?” Kermit replied. “It’s not like we’ll be needing one.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a clan name,” said Nielicus. “Something awesome and badass—”
The ground shook as the gate began to open from the top down.
Rays of light poked through the widening crack, becoming brighter as the gate descended. Slowly, a figure was revealed; through their fingers, they could only make out a dark silhouette. Once the gate had lowered fully into the ground and the light had dimmed, the figure stepped forward, revealing himself fully.
It was a man, though not like any they had ever seen.
He descended the few steps before the gate, and they were mesmerized by the relaxed fluidity in the alternation of his legs and the sway of his hips. He wore a robe of thin satin, dark with lighter floral patterns and tied at the midriff with a sash; what flesh wasn’t already exposed in that loose fabric was teased in the slight transparency of his garb, which suggested that nothing but the robe was clothing him.
At the foot of the steps, he halted before the assembled six. He was a Euclidean marvel, the contours of his supple, tasteful musculature coming together in geometric bliss. His hair, which was of a certain colour, seemed to shine with the fire of life itself. He had an almost otherworldly quality, a foot in this world and the other in some unseen place unknown to mortal ken.
The six could hardly do anything other than stare at this man. So steamy was the sight that Mega Bidoof removed his Bidoof helm to get a better look, revealing the flushed face of the man beneath—though Vegito lacked the pop culture savvy to realize that it was Dana Carvey.
“I am Senator Aerodrome. Warden of the Asylum of the Banned.”
His voice oozed sex and authority. Vegito found himself at once confused, disturbed, and confused. Aerodrome subtly shifted his weight to his opposing hip, causing Kermit’s breath to hitch.
“What is the name of your group?” the Senator asked.
Glances were traded. Before anyone could speak up, Vegito took to the floor.
“We’re…uh…the Band! Of, um… uh, the Band w-waaaa... goners. Ehem.”
The sound of TewnLeenk’s palmface slapped from the back. Even Vegito cringed, realizing the terrible quality of the name as he spoke it. He never did well when put on the spot.
“The Bandwagoners,” repeated Aerodrome. “Right, then. What brings you to the Asylum of the Banned?”
“We need to speak to the one called Chucklehead Tom,” Vegito responded.
Aerodrome’s eyelids lowered slightly as he examined the party. “What business do you have with that one? He’s in the highest tier of the Asylum, permabanned for being cray.”
“We’ve been tasked by the Light Music Club to destroy Sehnsucht at the Needle,” explained Cliff. “Chucklehead is the only known person who’s been to the Needle and back. We need to interrogate him to see what he knows.”
The corner of the Senator’s delectable lips tugged in thought. Two of his fingers grazed his impeccable jawline.
“…Hmmmm…” His adam’s apple moved just so. It was glorious. “I’ll allow it,” he decreed. “You get five minutes with him, and not a second more. Speak to no one you see along the way. Remain clear of the cells. And if any one of you plebes touches me with your smeggy fingers, you’ll have a go at the Sandpaper Steep n’ Slide. Capice? Good. Come along, now.”
Aerodrome turned and ascended the steps, entering the gateway. Carvey replaced his head, becoming Mega Bidoof once more. Steeling himself, Vegito followed, as did the rest of the Bandwagoners.
The lobby of the Asylum was gargantuan. Three corridors branched off, before them and to either side. Aerodrome went for the center path, satin kimono rustling in his grace and poise. Most notable to Vegito, however, were not the smooth stone surfaces, but the speakers, playing a particularly groovy beat reflective of the Senator’s refined aesthetic.
The music reverberated through the corridor, masking the yells and screams and banter of the Asylum’s residents that came from the cells. They consisted of solid doors with barred portholes, alternating left and right on the corridor walls. Each cell had a plaque identifying its present occupant.
“YOUUU!” The Bandwagoners jumped as an inmate banged against their cell door, fingers wriggling like worms through the bars. The name on the plaque read ARIGARMY. “I see ya! Ooooh, I wanna TACH ya—”
HWA-CLACK
Arigarmy recoiled with a start as the Senator’s whip lapped at the grate. “Keep it in your cell!”
“Geez,” said Tewn. “What’s he in for?”
“He’s a bit of a rabble-rouser,” said Aerodrome. He looked to the cell with a sort of detached disdain; it made his eyes seem even more intense. “Kind of manic, but relatively harmless. Unless you let him get the best of you.”
Arigarmy peered up through the grate, eyeing the Bandwagoners with his perturbed eyes. Aerodrome’s whip cracked again, and Arigarmy retreated further into his cell for safety, muttering all the while.
“This way, pequeños.”
The group resumed their sojourn. The Senator kept the whip coiled at his fist. Vegito didn’t remember seeing the whip when Aerodrome greeted them in the courtyard. He wondered where he had kept it. That robe didn’t seem to have any pockets.
They soon reach the heart of the Asylum—a circular chamber of many tiers, bridges crisscrossing above over many levels. The walls were lined with many cells, hosting the trolls, the spambots, and the clueless. The occupants called out to Aerodrome as they passed, who was quick to respond with his whip. REBELLIOUS TREECKO called for the end of all government, but they didn’t listen, which delighted his contrarian heart. THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS ARMLESS PUPPETEER pleaded for the Bandwagoners to notice them, asking if they liked their makeover—hoping for someone, anyone, to validate their sense of self. They passed by the cell of DANIEL DAY-LEWIS, who had originally come to the Asylum to study for a role, but had so committed to his character that he thought he actually belonged there.
Each inmate they passed proved more bizarre than the last. The tracks on the intercom continued to cycle; there was always something funky fresh for the listener’s enjoyment. They ascended level by level, trying their best to resist falling under the influence of the Senator’s callipygian hypnosis.
“We’re here,” announced Aerodrome as they conquered the last curving stairwell. The Bandwagoners were panting from the exertion. Aerodrome, on the other hand, had yet to break a sweat, not a drop on his nicely tan skin. “This is the highest tier of the Asylum, where we keep the Permabanned. Their IPs addresses have been blocked, and they are thus fated to never again access the outside world. Tread carefully.”
Already, they could tell that this level was different. It felt like the aura of the permabanned themselves was pouring out of of the grates of their cell doors, flooding the hall up to the nips.
As before, each cell had a name plaque. This time, however, the nature of their offense was also included, graven beneath the names.
One cell belonged to PACACK, for the offense of BEING GROSS. As he passed by, Vegito tiptoed to peer through the bars, finding a figure facing away, hunched over. True to the significance of his name, the walls of his cell were covered in cack.
Another cell held a certain SMOOTH CRIMINAL. As they passed by, Vegito noted the hulking and unnaturally smooth-skinned man holed up inside. With a deep, dangerous voice, he called out to the Bandwagoners as he heard their collective footsteps.
“Hey yo Aero baby! You bringin’ some friends over to play? And it ain’t even my birthday, yet, ha-HA! Smooth Criminal.”
Vegito wasn’t sure why HAVING TOURETTES warranted one’s permabanning; he figured that there must be more to the Asylum’s system of justice than he could ever know.
Aerodrome halted. “We’re here.”
The Bandwagoners congregated within the atrium at the end of the hall, where the final door was found. No sound came from the grate in the door. Nielicus needlessly read the plaque’s words aloud.
CHUCKLEHEAD TOM
BURDENED WITH DANGEROUS KNOWLEDGE
AND BEING WHACK
BECAUSE OF AFOREMENTIONED BURDEN
“So who’s going in?” asked the Senator. He leaned languidly against the wall, shoulders propping him up as his torso curved out, arms hanging limp at his side. “I’m only letting one of you songlings in there.”
“Allow me,” said Cliff. “I think if anyone, I should be able to reason with a madman.”
Hearing no contest, Aerodrome redressed himself off the wall. “Tommy boy’s unhinged, and unpredictable. If you ever have trouble, make some noise.” The Senator then gave an underhand tap to the door, open palm smacking the stone facade. Unseen mechanisms tumbled, and the cell door gave way to a dim space. Cliff gave a last look to the Bandwagoners before pushing up his glasses. Then he entered, the cell door closing behind him.
The Bandwagoners stood awkwardly in the atrium because they weren’t comfortable with being themselves (the Senator was the clear exception, as he had long ago learned to love himself fully).
“…ha ha ha HA GET OUT!”
Cliff called out, and the Senator opened the door not twenty seconds after Cliff had gone inside. Composing himself, he addressed the group.
“I… couldn’t reach through to him. I tried to explain myself to him, but the more I spoke, the more laughed and told me to stahp. I don’t think he understood a word that I said.”
“So what now?” asked Vegito.
“I think you might be better suited for this interrogation," said Cliff.
“Me? Why?”
"His mind isn't wired for conventional social interaction. He's mercurial and scatterbrained. We need someone who has a better chance of understanding his point of view." Cliff turned to Aerodrome. "Senator? Do you mind if Vegito gives it a try?”
Aerodrome ran a hand through his hairhnnnng. “No one’s been able to reach him. Not even me. But your five minutes are still ticking. So do what you want.”
Aerodrome lovetapped the door again, granting entry. Vegito felt meek before the entrance. He looked back to find his comrades watching on in anticipation.
“You can do it, Vegito!” exclaimed Nielicus. It was a tad unnerving to see such a nondescript face smile, but Vegito appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
“Yeah, show this guy who’s the Elite Four,” added Bidoof.
Kermit gave him a fins-up, though it was hard to tell how enthused he was when his lips were in constant state of droop. Cliff nodded solemnly, and Tewn was too distracted by the Senator to pay attention. Vegito channelled his spirit chi power or whatever and entered the cell.
The door slid shut behind him. He could still hear intercom outside laying phat beats, though the sound was diluted within that confined space.
What immediately struck the boy were the lines.
A single light illuminated the room, revealing the straight lines that were scored on the walls and floor and ceilings, intersecting at various points and angles. If there was a greater design to this crazed hatching and crosshatching, Vegito couldn’t discern it; staring at the patterns made him increasingly uneasy, and his stomach knotted as the truth behind the pattern fluttered at the edges of his subconscious understanding, just out of reach.
“…under and over and under again.”
Vegito pivoted with a brusque motion to face his interlocutor, who was sitting in the corner, resting his forearms on his knees.
“…Tom?”
Chucklehead Tom raised his head, speaking to the air. “That’s what we say when we crochet, heh.”
Vegito gulped. “Uh… Hello, there. My name is Vegito.”
Tom’s eyes immediately locked on to Vegito, and he guffawed without restraint. “That’s a funny-*** name you got there, kid!”
Tom got to his feet, shaking his head. Then he took out what might have once been a fork and began scraping at a section of wall, snickering as he extended an unfinished line. Vegito knew that he was being timed, and the Senator didn’t seem like the lenient sort. Vegito wracked his brain for an angle to work Tom over; to the chagrin of the author, Vegito wasn’t as dimwitted as he appeared, and had the novel insight of trying to think as Tom thought, to speak his language.
“Hey, Tom. You like to laugh, don’t you?"
“I sure do.” Tom didn’t look up from his work. He scraped at the stone wall with short, delicate strokes. “Love to laugh. Yes I do yesiree aw yiss.”
“Why was the rooster afraid to cross the road?” asked Vegito. The boy let a moment elapse. “Because he was too chicken!”
Chucklehead Tom turned around with a blank expression, and he did not chuckle. “That isn’t funny at all!” he exclaimed.
Vegito’s face fell, and rightly so. Tom turned around, continuing his compulsory marking. “Well, why don’t you try to make me laugh?” Vegito said. “What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
Tom got excited, digging into the wall with greater verve. “Oh, man. Oh man oh man oh man. So many funny things out there. Like the sound when you pinch the tip of a balloon and let the air out real slow. Or when I struck him and saw what lied beneath. The needle pricked me and I’ve been in stitches ever since, ooo-hoo-hoo. Never gets old. Maybe the best I’ve had was watching the Chappelle Show. Lawdy, ain't that some funny ****!"
“Tell me more about the needle,” pressed Vegito after Tom's lols died down.
“You gotta be careful with needles, mang. You can hurt yourself if you got clumsy fingers. You have to hold them just right. Under and over and under again. That’s how you gotta do it. Stitches and sutures, knits and knots. Heh. Heh heh. We’re all just strands in a big ball of yarn, aren’t we?”
“Tell me about Sehnsucht, Tom.” Vegito took a step closer, the another. “If I wanted to make him LHFAO, what would I say?”
“Everything is funny to him. Always laughing. I heard him in the Eye of the Needle. When I close my eyes, I can hear his voice. And then I start laughing, too! What's up with that?"
Tom broke into a chortle, followed by a couple of cackles before he finished with a hearty titter. At this point, Vegito thought he had a hook on Tom, and so tried to reel him in.
“How do I get to the Eye of the Needle, Tom? How do I get rid of Sehnsucht?”
The next thing Vegito knew, he was being pushed by Tom, who held him by the collar. They tumbled upon his bed, with Tom looming over him.
“He is unending, child. He came from behind the firmament, and trod the newborn earth. He knows the words to the song in your heart. He has many faces, and the end of one brings about another. He has pierced the needle in me, and the truth is threaded through me at the rhythm of my pulse!"
As Tom spoke with crazed fervour, Vegito’s sphincter clenched so tight that he strongly doubted he would ever **** again. “You… you said you struck him, and saw what lied beneath,” said the boy, shying away from Tom as best he could. “How did you do it?”
“He is quick, he is strong, he is resilient. He sees you coming. He is misdirection. I know his mind. I have seen it. Do you see him, boy?"
“Sehnsucht?”
At this, Tom stopped, seeming to become lucid. Then, he began to laugh, as though Vegito had said the funniest he really had ever heard. The man rolled off the bed and fell to the floor, curling in belly laughter, bulging eyes threatening to burst right out of their sockets.
Just then, the cell door opened. The Senator peeked in.
“Alright, munchkin. Time’s up.”
Vegito looked down at Tom as a puddle of urine began to form where he lay. The howling laughter did not relent as Vegito exited the cell, the door sliding back into position.
“Good Guru Nanak, bruh,” said Tewn. “What did you do? Show him your peen?”
“Ha! Nice,” said Bidoof, and he bumped knuckles with a self-satisfied grin.
“Did you learn anything in there?” asked Kermit.
“I’m not sure what I learned,” said Vegito. “But from what I understood from Tom, Sehnsucht ain’t no joke. It might not even be possible to defeat him.”
“Still,” said Cliff, “we must try. We have a responsibility and a duty.”
“HE SAID DOODIE!” cried Chucklehead from his cell. “OOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAH!”
Aerodrome began to move, and his Old Spice aroma drew their attention. Vegito noticed that his whip was nowhere to be seen. “If you’re all done, I’ll show you the way out. Follow me.”
The Bandwagoners fell into line behind the Senator, surrounding by the cries of the Banned. After a few turns, they reached a domed chamber. In the center of the ceiling was embedded a gleaming brass pole; it went straight down into a hole in the floor. The gang cautiously peered into the hole, seeing that the pole went down very far.
“This pole goes all the way down to the ground level,” explained Aerodrome. “All you need to do is slide. Use your thighs to control your descent. And take some of this hand sanitizer; I won’t let you pass unless you do.”
Aerodrome was now holding a bottle of green liquid. They formed a line, holding out their hands and scrubbing their hands with the stuff until the Senator was satisfied.
They began their descent. Cliff went first; they watched him recede as he crossed the tiers of the Asylum. Then went Nielicus, yelling gleefully as he went down. Mega Bidoof zipped like a bullet, as his soft costume provided little traction. Kermit did an aerial twist as a segue to the mount, though an error in execution caused him to latch onto the pole upside down, and he cursed himself as he slid out of view. TewnLeenk hesitated before grabbing the pole; he went down slowly, in stops and starts. Vegito was last to go.
“Hey, Senator,” he said. “Thanks you for your time.”
Vegito prepared to leave, but Aerodrome spoke.
“Hey, little dove. It’s dangerous to go at it alone. Take this.”
When Vegito turned, Aerodrome had already tossed the item, though Vegito managed to catch it. He examined the bottle in his hand, which turned out to be some SlickWylde Vaseline. The bottle was curiously warm.
“Um… thanks,” said Vegito, stuffing the bottle in his coat pocket. Aerodrome winked. I can’t even.
Then Vegito hopped onto the pole, crossing his legs firmly. As he began his controlled descent, he looked up, seeing Aerodrome watching him slide down from above. There was a brief moment where Vegito thought he might have caught a glance up the Senator’s robe, and he almost passed out and fell to his death.
And throughout the Asylum of the Banned, the song carried on.
*******************************************************
**************************
*******************************************************
END OF ACT II
*******************************************************
**************************
*******************************************************
Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
Chucklehead Tom had a lot to say. Chances are there's a significance to his words that isn't apparent at first glance. And of course there would be. This is my story, so nothing is random.
So it is that Act II ends, and there are more Acts to come. This story is becoming something rather big, and perhaps a little bit special. It's a bit daunting, but I feel as though it's my duty (shut up) to see it through.
And now, the rosteras detailed in Corocoro:
[collapse=DRAMATIS PERSONAE]
Non-spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO APPEARED OR WERE MENTIONED (IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)]
@
@Nielicus
@Swampasaur
@
@ToasterBrains
@Mega Bidoof
@CliffJumper
@Chucklehead Tom
(Me, Sehnsucht!)
@TewnLeenk
@Kermit the Ninja
(The Divine Deity)***
@Aerodrome
@The Light Music Club
@Arigarmy
@Rebellious Treecko
@Lizardon
@Pacack
@Smooth Criminal
@SlickWylde
Total: 19 users
***I was not around in the apparently infamous DivineDeity days, but I figured there are those who might appreciate the reference, so I wrote it in anyway. That may make me a hack, but at least I'm a cutie.
[/collapse]
Kind of spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO HAVE YET TO BE MENTIONED, OR WON'T SHOW UP AGAIN (IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER))]
@Backgammon
@
@CrophMaruMariolu2W0vol41PEeeeeek
@dimensionsword64
@
@Frostwraith
@GoldenYuiitusin
@Hong
@
@IsmaR
@Kaye Cruiser
@KenithTheGatherer
@MaskO'Gears
@MisterVideoGaming
@Moon Monkey
@MorbidAltruism
@MSmariosonic
@Ndayday
@8-peacock-8
@PLATINUM7
@PsychoIncarnate
@Quilt Reversal
@RaccoonBL
@Radical Beam
@ScatmansWorld25
@
@skaaaa
@TeenGirlSquad
@TheFirstPoppyBro
@The Original Robot boy
@TitanTeaTime
@Zhadgon
Total: 32 users
[/collapse]
[/collapse]
If I missed anyone, or neglected to include them in the above list and/or in the story, then go walk around your place of residence a few times. If you are on this list, and would prefer not to be, then that'll teach you to think twice before posting (semi)frequently in the Social Thread.
Also, I am no longer going to include usernames to the list (unless I have somehow neglected to include any actual regular posters in the Social Thread). There are only so many cameos and references that I can pack in here. I must strike a compromise between representation and storytelling. Any further inclusions will be at my discretion.
Ahem.
Act III will come at a later time. I will work on it at my own pace, and release periodic status updates in this thread until it's ready to be posted. I will repeat this process until all Acts of TWOTT have been posted in this thread.
Until then, pequeños.
--Sehnsucht
No, I recently bought a new one and the last time I played the Cube, the one that I've had since I bought the console was still working fine.
Why would you need to farm for likes when they do nothing anyway?Social threads are "like" farms. I guess they're like farms too in that sense.
Going into a thread and saying the popular opinion + GIF is farming for likes too.
Making a joke about a dumb threads topic is "like" farming.
Being a mod is "like"farming.
Being a senator is the opposite of "like" farming.
Saying at the appropriate time "guys lets not make this a Melee vs Brawl discussion" is "like" farming.
Going to a thread that is the second one of that topic and posting " there's a thread for this
This post is "like" farming.
Well, that's good. I bought my second Gamecube at a Gamestop though. I was hoping for it to come with black controller though, since the system was black.
For the glory of the hunt.
I only use the DS to play GBA games. I play my DS games on the 3DS.
I think Snake would need to loosen his belt then.
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