Quick note: this is somewhere between "quite unpolished" and "somewhat unfinished" and I should probably fix that but in the meantime please forgive the one instance of typing "as" instead of "is" along with the not-entirely-thought-out Concept once you learn what I mean by that.

PASTRY#####-AND-HIS-CLIQUE-OF-HANDSOME-ROGUES-SEXTRAVAGANT-TESTICULAR-AFFRONT.html

aka DELTAMONCRAFTFORDREAMISLANDSTUCK.fanfic

ONE

A landscape lay untouched. Hazy, yet so vivid.

One other stands far, Familiar and brightly glowing.

Upward are the remaining three bodies of the night sky, far more close and clear than otherwise.

Approaching the other is interrupted; bright fluid escapes the land, seldom piercing it.

All else in the heavens suffer indentically, towards one point.

You need to save them.

> Actuate

A young pastry lies in his bed.

It is a bright spring morning, and he just had one strange dream.

> Enter Name

The aforementioned pastry refuses to shift person before getting out of bed. He does take the command as a wake-up call, though.

He slowly rises from the blanket-barred nocternal prison, physically ready for the day, seeing as baked goods have no biological functions.

Phew. Okay, now he's ready for the introductory monologue. Go on.

> Actually enter name

He already has a name, so he Echoes it instead.

Your name is Banana Bread.

You are an Animate Object of Earth, particularly the Earth of Battle's Fallout, even more particularly residing within Rural South Goiky. Your name, as with all others on your planet, describes the body you inhabit. Your people are known for their Opposable Thumbs, Access to Sunlight, and Basically Population Control which No-one Really Talks About.

Additionally, you have a number of Interests, including, but not nessacarily limited to just in case you randomly spout about an interest you have a hundred and twenty-seven paragraphs from now, the Jestoral Arts, Stupid Synonyms, Digital Visual Artwork, Free Software, Spending Excessive Amounts of Time Thinking, and, recently, Ancient Alien Linguistics.

One interest which goes without saying is, of course, the Persona Thing, of which you are currently the Primary Persona.

Now, what will you do?

> Desecrate computing station with digestive functions

You are quite positive that baked goods have no biological functions, nor will they ever. Frankly, the notion strikes you as crude and cumbersome.

> Examine storage mediums

For one, your room features a Quadrisected Frame, or, as some have called it, a "Shoe Cubby." You keep some of your most used belongings here for easy access, organized into its individial Quadrants.

Its Upper Left Quadrant is chock full of books; of Romance and of Biology, but you tend to use the Thesaurus the most.

The Upper Right Quadrant displays your personal assortment of Cool Rocks, which you can barely resist naming in all caps. Some are particularly smooth or perculiarly shaped, while some are of Crystaline Persuasion, such as this distinctly Diamond-Shaped one, which seems to adjust the perspective from which I see when he looks through you at different angles.

In the Lower Right Quadrant are some Digital Art Supplies of yours, by which of course you mean one (1) Drawing Tablet, inside its box which you still store it in.

Finally, you keep your Fictional Weapon Replicas in the Lower Left Quadrant, such as a Yo-yo from Earthstuck, a Bow and Arrow from the Kid Phaethon series, and who could forget the classic Hand Bident?

Your other main storage medium in the immediate vicinity is your Implicit Hyperjournal, or, as some have called it, "just call it a Sylladex and get over yourself not in that order." You haven't much contained in its Explicit Harborcartridges - Harborcarts for short - at the moment, other than an All But Disfunctional Laptop Computer you Intend To Replace Soon and a Thesaurus.

> Make use of desktop computer

You decide it's time to start up your Raspberry Heir Mini for the day, a device that can be used as both a focus for creation, or a harbinger of unending productive lapses.

> Check instant message inbox

You actuate the Bugfriend chat client. A new window makes itself apparent over your desktop wallpaper - one depicting a cartoon character based on a marine alien adorned in the garb and wig of a fictional music idol - and an insectoid mascot greets you with a jovial, hexapodal jig.

After eight seconds of watching the loading screen, you realize that this is not your chat client, but a program dedicated to depicting this moth dancing ad infititum.

> Actually open chat client

You actuate the Assailaffiliate program, which loads much faster into an actual user interface. On the right-hand side, there is a Clique of Affiliates, and, below that, a list of Syndicates, those with unread messages highlighted.

You barely ever talk in the Syndicates, seeing as they're largely filled with people you don't know, but they tend to house fair Jestoral Image Macros and are a good place to get people talking about your Creative Works for like three minutes.

> Affiliate

Interpreting that command as a verb, and further interpreting it as a command to check messages from your Affiliates, you do exactly as it says. Just about all of your Affiliates are in on the same Persona Thing - well, except one, but it similarly goes without mentioning you're Affiliated with him. Most of them haven't sent anything to you that you haven't read yet - which is reasonable, seeing as you live on different planets with different sleep schedules - except for SuperpositionedSealion, whose unread messages are quite recent, in fact.

> Assail

--SuperpositionedSealion (SS) actuated Assailage of PastryPurgatory (PP) at 10:27 AM--

SS: Hey what's poppin?.

SS: That is to say, has the package arrived yet?.

SS: I mean, i know the answer, because i have the delivery tracking pulled up right next to the chat client.

SS: So that makes the question pointless on my part.

SS: And you knowing that kind of negates the illusion that this question has any practical bearing on me.

SS: So this tangent i'm going on is kinda detrimental to the whole conversation.

SS: Although i could probably find some way to twist this into a situation you're to blame for via letting me ramble on.

SS: Speaking of which, are you even there?.

SS: Are you asleep?.

SS: I mean i get it cause you sleep really late and also you're like three hours behind me so you're extra likely to be asleep.

SS: Or maybe you're just doing one of those things where you don't have your chat client on for hours on end.

SS: Oh well i'll just keep staring at the delivery tracking which you don't know the status of for the next few hours doing nothing else.

--SuperpositionedSealion (SS) terminated Assailage of PastryPurgatory (PP) at 10:32 AM--

--PastryPurgatory (PP) actuated Assailage of SuperpositionedSealion (SS) at 10:40 AM--

PP: Hey girl

PP: I'm wake

PP: Also you aren't one to talk about sleep schedules, you go to bed at like two in the morning

PP: Furthermore - joke's on you, the second thing I did on my computer was open this abomination of software

SS: Oh cool good morning.

SS: And, since you specified, what was the first abomination you opened?.

PP: I spent eight seconds boggling vacantly at basically a troll program of an overly-stylized Moth doing a silly dance.

SS: Woah dude i didn't know you felt that way about hexapods.

SS: If that's even the right word for that thing.

PP: Yeah that's right

PP: Wait not that

SS: Ha!.

PP: I meant you had the right terminology forehead

SS: I got you, you clown!.

PP: Hey you're the actual clown-themed pinniped in this animal locomotion terminology-infested conversation

SS: :o)

PP: don't make that face in particular

SS: Hey dude that's like,

SS: Probably some kind of rude by someones definition of alien social justice.

SS: It's my right to depict my face as a smiley emoticon with a huge nose.

SS: :o) :o) :o)

SS: Hey you haven't responded to any of my ramblings, did i break you or something?.

SS: Need a minute to let all of that clown-induced anger to seethe out of your eyes?.

SS: Baked goods have tears, right?.

PP: No I'm good

PP: I think something just hit my roof

SS: Oh wow i have literally no idea what that could be.

PP: No clue what you mean by that but I'm gonna go check

PP: See you then

SS: Have fun fighting whatever cosmic terror is sliding off the roof of your house right now.

--PastryPurgatory (PP) terminated Assailage of SuperpositionedSealion (SS) at 10:46 AM--

> Escape the productivity vortex

It's a shame your conversation was cut short by that thing that your friend may or may not know about - depending on what Ironic Tier he was on at the moment - that clown racism bit was a promising opening to tear into a gaping, sweaty void of sincerety, and perhaps an even better excuse to argue weather or not friendship is an emotion.

Oh well. Best not to dwell on beshortened dialogs - maybe more so when ones roof is in the proccess of being attacked as we speak if we were speaking about thirty seconds ago and also if we were speaking out loud and also if there was a we in this situation.

> Inspect cosmic terror through bedroom window

Your window shows a nice view of the yard this fine spring day, but no trace of unidentified roof-quaking substance, seeing as how you heard it fall towards the front of your house. You're not even sure why you looked.

For future reference, this common-sense-forsaken house has no windows facing the front side. You will have to make the begruding trek to the front door. You also would have to if you plan to physically access your roof-tile-bound assailant.

> Exit

You open the door to your Living Room. Your friends all have much larger homes to accomodate their Biological Functions, making yours seem comparably modest. There is a Small Bookshelf by the door, harboring more books than your Quadrisected Frame could ever hope to be given, such as some resources for the aforementioned Ancient Alien Linguistics, and thesauri for every language you know and / or are trying to learn.

The front door as on the other side of the room, perpendicular to that of your bedroom.

> Walk towards front door without error

You have no clue why you thought about the prospect of making any kind of mistake in your parambulation on your way to the ow ow thats a huge thesarus you just rammed your ankle into ow ow why was your chemically dead body made to feel such pain ow that's the floOR WHAT CREUL CHARACTER ILLUSTRATION BE MADE OF YE AT THINE OWN EXPENSE

> Be the other guy to evade pain ramblings

You can not be this chromatically-abberated pinniped because one of his key interests is only explained twelve paragraphs from now!

Oh. That one was long enough for you to finish. Get up, now. Oh, right.

> Get up, now.

You rise to your slim, inky excuses for feet. They're not damaged to an obscene degree, and the pain is already starting to not be a thing.

You then walk over to the door, because that's what makes sense to do and what you were already doing before you got an ankle-full of synonyms and a face-full of cold, hard carpet.

> Open

At this point, you think it was implied that you were going to do that. But yeah, you do.

The weather is nice this fine spring day. You take a moment to appreciate your thermal senses.

Oh, the imperceptable threat that's definitely caused you more trouble in the first ten minutes of your day than you will have the rest of it was the aforementioned package all along. So you guess he was only on First-Teir Irony when he gave his inscrutable remark.

> Grant home to polyhedron

You... Already picked it up, but you guess the command still has bearing since you haven't taken it inside yet.

So you do that.

You then take it to the couch to gut its contents. The overzealous packaging is much more appreciated when it could have been freefalling from any point in the Celestial Ring.

It's a starter kit for a card game that the aforementioned sea lion purchased and sent actually flying towards your house, Concepts and Caveats. The title is deceptively simple - many card games revolve around the two things - but it's specifically that the cards each contain a Battle Concept and an accompanying Caveat. Basically, the Concept augments and amplifies attacks, while the Caveat is pretty much just a Concept that's detrimental to the user in some way.

The main event here is this device that, according to the manual, just clips onto your Hyperjournal, using its capabilities as a sort of library for its functionality.

> Accessorize Hyperjournal

It plugs in just as expected. The added clunkyness is redeemed by the whole Hyperjournal merely being an implication.

It came with a few simple starter cards, too. From what you're seeing here, some of them seem to be the simple kind anyone can pick up and get, while others appear to be kind of showcasing how interesting the battle mechanics can be.

Oh, this one's perfect. "Concept: Great damage from rythmic combos. Caveat: Intimidation no longer effective." You weren't really planning on being taken seriously with this anyway. You plug the card straight into the Active Deck

There's an Harborcart slot labeled "Jargon" with a cartridge already in it. The manual says that it will generate a list of game terminology based on whatever's in there, which is currently an emblem of the founder's home planet, representing their whole physically-altercating culture and whatnot.

> Know immediately

You Eject the Jargon and Thesaurus Harborcarts and swap their places.

The concept of the current card in the Active Deck changes. Interesting.

Nevermind, it just changed to "Extravagant detriment via musical drubbings."

You proceed with perusing the guidetome. You have nothing to apologize for. Especially that this thing is far from a tome. It says that the contents of your Hyperjournal are used as weapons - or whatever synonym is going to be used once you actually fight something.

You suppose that means you should look for something to use in such a situation. But where first...

> Go to kitchen

You don't see how a place for preparing metabolic fuel would help; what sort of violent instruments would be needed for something like that? Besides, you don't have one, seeing as baked goods have no biological functions.

> Look under TV

The piece of furniture harboring your Television likely contains all sorts of miscellanea that will never pass as weaponry. The perfect place to start.

> Rise

You spring off of the couch and oh ### there's cards everywhere whatever you're not dealing with this again.

On the top of the TV Stand an Infrared Remote TV Control Board, a Bideo Game Move Game Console with Accompanying Infrared Remote Control Board, and a Thesaurus.

> Take TV Remote

You use your Hyperjournal to Record it into an Harborcart. First, however, it must go through the Access Circuit currently in the Hyperjournal: the Keyboard circuit. This Access Circuit is controlled by use of keyboard shortcuts on an Implicit Keyboard, designed to be as efficient as possible while giving you practice at Keyboardcraft at the same time. Truly the ideal matter-energy management mode.

You press mod+r to Record, then type 'TV' to select the whoops no that's your whole TV undo that okay good.

You do that but better, typing 'TV R' before hitting enter. You have succeeded in picking up a TV remote in merely three paragraphs.

That was sarcasm. You thought that sarcastically.

> Look inside drawers of TV stand

That's a good concept, especially considering that's what you planned on doing anyway. You pull out the drawer and survey your surroundings if your surroundings were what was exclusively right in front of you.

You catch a peep of a Perplexion Hexahedron, a Language Study Binder, one (1) Girthload of Paper Sketches, a Bideo Brand BiD3o Go (you're pretty much full Bideo whenever few times you're using a dedicated game device,) and another Thesaurus. Nothing here strikes you as especially lethal.

> Return to bedroom and check Quadrisected Frame

You finally remember you actually pointed out that there was stuff in there you may be able to use as weapons and perform the action while this paragraph goes on.

But what's this? You seem to be looking at literally everything in your room except for the Quadrisected Frame. What category of crust-backwards reason could you have for getting distracted like this?

> Know

You're currently considering the various Posters affixed to the four walls of your room. You were a bit quick to turn on your computer and forgot to actually look around your room.

The one that caught your eye was your Unus Period Of Time That Will Have Passed By The Time A Planet Has Fully Orbited Around A Star Poster. The first word of the title is in the Notlatin Language of the ancient Notland Empire, though it would seem as though that wacky duo's knowledge on the language ended there.

Notlatin has been the first crusade of your Ancient Alien Linguistics craze.

> BananaBreadGuy: Stop bragging about your Latin escapades and get back to the story

>:T

The Lower Left quadrant, as mentioned before, gives you the choice between the Bow and Arrow, Earthstuck Yoyo, and the Hand Bident. Which will you choose?

> Examine bident

It's a large, two-prong fork with no handle, hence the name. You admire the original fiction it originates from, so you Record the Hand Bident into your Hyperjournal.

> Examine Bow and Arrow

You... arent actually that big of a fan of Kid Phaethon, and you don't think this cheap plastic bow with cheaper plasticer arrows will have much use. Maybe it will eight hundred or so paragraphs from now, but not at the moment.

> Take Earthstuck Yoyo

You pick up the aforementioned string instrument of torture. You haven't been doing as much gaming lately, but you still have fond memories of imagining how the Heir of Space must have felt running around town, beating down Spiteful Avians with this thing. Well not this thing in particular, but with the gaming abstraction this Yo-yo is modeled off of.

You Record the Yoyo with your Hyperjournal with a swift mod+r.

> Habitually check instant messages

Oh yeah, your friend has been waiting for you to write back for a while now. You guess you should get on to your computer and tell him about whats happened since you last messaged him.

> PSYCHE

You are now the other guy.

The pinniped clown, that is.

END ONE