#ink refill

[ggsstudies]

4/5/19

so i wanted to rewrite these notes from apush that i literally had written on a back of a random piece of paper and then my pen decides to be ~rude~ and it runs out of ink. thankfully i have some ink refills (i need to order more) and so now there’s a slight change in thickness of the lines....oh well

xo- gg

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

Ending Terminal Logs.

A metal box is approached. I'm typed into. Manuscripts are imputed to be read.

>You have been doing your job well.

>Continue the work.

>Write the story.

>Narrate what is to come.

>Continue and muse on what you see.

>Never stop.

And I will. For that is my purpose. What I was made for. I'm your FRIEND. The device to observe. Device_FRIEND.

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

Poppy nods, silent, he doesn't have anything to say as a serpent comes closer, hands grasping his form as they are placed on his head, clammy, cold like death, like the cold of a empty night. Bringing it close to Him. He softly clicks it against one of the masks, the center one, a bone and metal click sounding out. Ringing like white noise, crawling with emotion, feels like water dripping down. Poppy leans in. He likes touch afterall. So he should lean in. And so he does. His lights a black, but still glowing dimly.

I

Love

You

You

Know

That

SWEETHEART

I know. You love me deeply. You love me. You love me. You love everything. You love them. You love me.

For that is the Truth. Poppy knows from the bottom of his heart that it is the Truth. For it could be nothing else but True. He won't let himself question that. There is no other answer that could exist.

You

Are treasured

And not

Forgotten

Ever

As long as

I'm with you

A small nod and Chirp in confirmation. He coils as He spirals around, staring as masks spin and he releases a head. Rolling it. It lands on one. No. No. No. It doesn't. It lands on six. Three times as it keeps getting spun. Poppy giggles. Laughing as He chuckles as well. His tail flicks a path open, to below everything, to below all, to Nothing. Mandelbrot colors fading to a monochrome.

Now

We need

To

Start

SWEETHEART

I know! Time for us to go! To leave here!

Poppy cheerfully exclaims as he walks down, down, down. To Below everything. To Deep Below Creation where ROOTS lay. Happy to no longer be here. Happy to be pulled out. Happy to be saved. He follows the Man who leads the story and pens it down. To down. To where he. And I reside and stay.

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

...

...

...

It is almost time to head deeper, deeper, deeper. Down to the Lab, so this can be done properly. For someone to be *Saved* from the hole, momentarily. But first. The preamble that must be done.

You

Are doing

Well

FRIEND

That I am, I'm fulfilling my duty and assisting you, as your faithful device. As your FRIEND. As I should.

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

He's here now, waiting in the center. Like he always was. Like he did when he was down here the first time. All those days melting into an unknown count. The darkness is growing, consuming, gnawing. Normally He wouldn't appear in just the normal dark. But down here. With the emotions. And away from anyone who would care or even bother. With loneliness consuming and down where emotions boiled for so long. He does. And the shadows cut deep and subsume. Masks clicking as machinery whirrs. An invitation accepted. He smiles. He smiles back. The cut growing and growing and growing. Each face smiles. Smiles. Smiles.

Poppy smiles facing the Man. For what else could he do but smile in return? Deep in this hole he knew he would always return to, and now has. For something important, to be useful, to be helpful.

Hello

SWEETHEART

We have a

Lot

To

Talk about

And Do

Today

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

Someone is coming down to somewhere they don't want to be. But they're here now. Going to meet Him.

He

Wants to be

Here FRIEND

Truly

With me

Otherwise

He would have never come

Sorry. I'll fix it.

Someone is coming down to somewhere they've haven't been in a while. To meet a dear friend who has been with them in the dark. Coming down below. Deep into somewhere they were stuck for the longest time. Down down down into a dark hole. This time, no one will be pulling him out, this time, this time he'll have to crawl out on his own. For no one will come.

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

It is Dark. Deep, lonely, abandoned. The trapdoor hole consumed by Darkness. Dark. He is waiting.

The Manuscript is calling.

He will be here soon

Here for me

Like I am for him

[pocket-full-of-poppies]

...

But I must be here. And write. And record. And watch.

Please.

Please.

Please.

One day have this stop.

That is unneeded FRIEND

Everything is as

Always

Pleasant.

My apologies.

I'll get to work.