Chapter Text
A supply closet is no place for delicate flowers.
This was obvious; this she was acutely aware of even without thorough research into her hordes of downloadable, archived knowledge (even without the internet, her know-how knew no bounds, so long as she was determined enough). Closets, especially this one, were almost antithetical to a plant’s needs, as far as she was aware (which typically meant she was right anyways). Fickle beings that lived and breathed yet lacked a sort of moving agency; relying on their environment for necessities such as water, light, space. Here, there was none, at least not in the way they needed. Here, no light could peer in to satiate them without being repulsed. Here, no liquids they may come upon could quench their critical first.
By all logical, rational means, they should have perished within a few hours. And yet, they stood.
Stubbornly, irrationally alive.
And it was driving Queen insane.
Not because she didn’t want them to live. Quite the opposite, actually. And the flowers she’d seen around town seemed tolerable enough at a surface level analysis, anyway- she’d seen the cyan and the purple playing with her rotund sonboy, the green, pink and orange in the café with her Swatch and Tasque Manager, the yellow and blue courting foolishly in the town square in a way she liked to watch from afar for entertainment. At a glance, they certainly seemed to possess the same pitfalls of fallibility that the Lightners had. She’d heard from Lancer who’d heard from Susie who’d heard from Prince-Peachboy-Whatever-His-Name-is that their nature was muddied and hazy- not quite Lightner, but not quite Darkner, either. That alone would have been enough to pique her interest, but then she learned a little bit from Susie about how flowers worked, exactly, and that just made their presence all the more infuriatingly alluring to her. So unlike everything she knew. So unlike everything that made sense.
Maddening.
Queen had a natural burning curiosity for the world, but also had a tight, rigid and logical process of thinking and calculating things through. Made to be infallible and foolproof; optimised and flawless. There was no question Queen could not answer, and no problem she could not solve. And all this, she could do perfectly, rationally, exceptionally.
That was what the Lightners built her for. That was what she was made to do. To answer and solve and please in ways they could not.
…Of course, recent developments had taught her that this wasn’t… entirely the case. She knew that. She… understood that, and had been trying to adjust her mindsets accordingly, for the good of both the Lightners and herself. She could miscalibrate. She could be wrong. She could be fallible, and she could not calculate other people’s feelings.
(And maybe she didn’t understand, as much as that stung and bit and festered. Maybe she couldn’t wrap her head around how the perfect machine built to carry the whole world in her hands and away into a happier, darker, darker dream, could fail at the very thing it was built to do. But she had to try. She had to try for Noelle. She had to try even if it made no sense and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and it
…but old habits died hard, and she could shamefully admit that it had lent, at least in part, to her burning and insatiable intrigue with regards to Castle Town’s new petalled denizens.
Everything about them was fascinating. In a way she could not describe, even with her countless online thesauruses at her disposal. From their appearance (so human, at least from the pictures she’d seen online and the one human she had for reference, yet so clearly not in a way that triggered some feeling that made her chassis crawl), to their nature- in-between worlds, somewhere mixed up.
And she couldn’t understand.
See?? It was easier to admit. She was learning. She didn’t understand.
How could one be both yet neither? In-between? How could multiple?? How did it work, and how did it come to be?! What did they inherit from their Lightner kin, and what did they save from the darkness they dwelled in?
Irrationality called for logistics, organisation (oh, trust Queen, she’d know- just look at Tasque Manager), calculations. Irrationality called for NON-obsessive logging and various offline excel sheets she could print off and paste to her wall and perhaps even link together with cartoonish red strings like that one weird die freak that hung out in the TV building. For decoration. To highlight that she was fascinated.
Had Queen mentioned that she was fascinated yet???
And yet, even with all that, even with a grand and elaborate display of her furious puzzling, it had never been enough. Never been enough to watch enthralled from her safe distance and with a glass of acid in hand, like enraptured Lightners glued to Super Smashing Fighters rage compilations. No, Queen knew that well enough- inaction led to nothing, a lack of will led to null.
If one were simply determined enough, they could do anything, prove anything.
And it wasn’t like the Queen’s chariot could ever be stopped. Especially not for something that had captured her attention this thoroughly.
So that was why she was here.
Standing tall and proud and full of intent before the first and only room on the castle’s shiny new floor. Surveying it, studying it; faint whirring of fans and clicking of servos fading away into the rest of the silence on the floor (and the sound of Lancer’s babbling downstairs. And someone’s soft voice, full of exasperation. And some sort of kickass explosion Queen was suddenly wishing she was involved with and observing instead of bothering some weird flower guy she’d never met. She wondered what might happen if she threw an Extra Dangerous Glass at whatever had caused it. This, she decided, was a valuable thing to spend an overly long time scholarly contemplating and calculating in her head).
Eventually, her attention returned to the door. Unique and lovingly, specifically crafted with care by the prince as all others, she logically presumed, and thus something indicative of the personality she was about to encounter. Socialising protocols eluded her at times (in a charming way, of course- and it was unnecessary information that would only bloat her systems as opposed to more important things, such as pleasing the Lightners or concocting ideas for her next Cyber City’s Funniest Home Videos submission), so it was very much needed. It seemed rather typical and symmetrical, almost improvised. Like it wasn’t supposed to exist and was conceived in a hurry (which would make sense), OR that such a construct spoke to the personality of the man inside, which had intriguing implications.
She knew little about the Flower Guy (what she had elected to call him until further notice) other than what Susie had told her, and some small words thrown about here and there by some of the other flowers, and some… look the prince seemed to hold in his eyes whenever he was brought up. Queen didn’t understand that, but something in her sensors had told her not to pry. Which had proven to be difficult.
But none of that mattered now.
She was here and she was going to bother some dude and poke at him for answers about What He Was and What He Did and also If He Liked Punch Out and Who He Mains In Super Smashing Fighters. And then, when she got bored, and her curiosity had been satiated As Always and she was caught up on all the world’s knowledge As Always and she was perfect and knowing As Always she could go back to drinking with her staff at the café, and playing games with Lancer, and helping Susie with her wardrobe (by printing her every possible clothing permutation).
So, she did. She focused the azure cloaked grasp of her hand onto the door knob, twisted, paused, considered first impressions, drew her hand away from the door knob, then swung her leg back in one wide arc and kicked the door right open.
«Heyyyyy What’s Popping New Stuff You’re One Hell Of A Way Out From Everyone Else Aren’t You»
The door fell off its hinges in a disappointingly small explosion. Queen faltered, just slightly. «Oops I Will: Fix That Later»
«Anyways»
She turned back to the subject of her speech, and consequential Sick As Balls™ entrance, to address him properly and also maybe gauge his reaction to the whole thing. If he was anything less than utterly impressed and entranced, she wouldn’t care, but it would at least check off her assumption that flowers possessed a Lightner’s fallibility.
(Then she remembered what she was meant to be improving on, and aborted the thought process.)
A man sat in the middle of the room, turning slightly to look at her.
“…Someone come to see me? Oh, sorry to keep you waiting!”
He stood, and Queen, with her laser focused sensors, noticed him stumble, tense and wince a little as he did.
She remembered something else that Susie had said, and her stature softened ever so slightly.
He turned around to face her- and as he did, immediately struck a pose before even seeing her, it seemed, which made Queen stiffen back up into her domineering and conversation-ready-cool-first-impression-stance. She was introducing herself, yes, but she would not be outdone (and especially not by some guy who just got here, anyway).
“ Howdy.”
…and then immediately faltered again.
Huh. What.
«What»
“ You came up all this way, just to see lil’ ol’ me? Gotta say, I’m flattered! What, did Raly send you?”
«Dude How Are You Doing That»
“ Ah, I’m sorry, m’lady! You came all this way and I haven’t even introduced myself. Forgive me for being… upfront, I haven’t been quite myself lately.”
«???»
The guy flipped his hair (if it was hair. It was something fine, soft and golden, but to Queen’s trained processors, it looked nothing like hair), and Queen almost swore she could see sparkles.
But none of that mattered. None of that mattered with a pretty huge freaking elephant standing unaddressed in the room.
One he didn’t seem keen on examining, from the looks of it. Which didn’t help.
(And hey. Wait a second. She’s Queen. Why the hell does she need to wait on this guy to explain himself??)
“ The name’s Flowery.”
“Star sign: the Flower. Golden Eyes. Blood type: SS-”
«What»
“ Flowery.”
«No Abort That How Are You Doing The Thing»
«The Speaking Thing»
“I’m mostly just opening my mouth and creating shapes to produce different sounds that sound like words. Hey, you seem to be quite a natural already, if I do say so myself!”
«No Not Like That I Mean»
Queen groaned, a frustrated noise ripping through her voice modulator without her consent, much to her shame and further irritation.
Because this guy was not affecting her. This guy was not affecting her. Clearly annoying, yes, but there wasn’t anything. Wrong. With him.
She’s still smiling. Her expression and stature (once fixed from the initial surprise) stand uncontested. She’s normal. It’s actually incredible how normal she is.
She’s SOOOOOOOOOOOO normal right now.
«Like How Are You Saying It Out Loud»
«Like That»
“ Oh, you mean my VOICE CLIPS? Well, Kris didn’t turn them off in the CONFIG MENU, aha!”
«That Doesn’t Help»
It didn’t. What was he saying. What did those words mean. Why didn’t she know what those words meant??
“Nevermind, I’m sure I could teach you sometime if you’re interested, and… oh!”
Flowery seemed to jolt, almost as if coming to his senses. Shaking his pretty blonde Incomprehensible locks, banishing the weird sparkles. And the whole time, not once did his expression waver- a single untouchable smile, perfect and shining, so bright it almost reflected badly off of her optic sensors.
The guy looked so human- he ticked off all the arbitrary boxes, definitely far better than the other flowers’ shoddy imitations (why did they all want to look like humans, anyway? That was yet another query Queen had hoped to bombard him with- it was odd, being the one asking the questions and hoping for answers, and she didn’t like it much). But that was the very problem, Queen reckoned. Just staring at him seemed to make her chassis crawl, seemed to send her facial recognition software into some kind of panicked flurry it was not meant to handle. Clearly his fault for breaking the conventions of all that was logical, of course, and not hers. It seemed like it was the tiny details that were giving him away. The absence of wrinkles, lines, and other natural blemishes humans seemed to have snitched on his nature.
He was too perfect. Queen almost respected it, and she hated that.
“ How rude of me. Here I am, rambling on about myself, when I’ve got a guest here to bathe in my company. Allow me to apologise, here-”
He walked up to her then, and she almost had a good mind to step out of his way- and maybe she should have, because when he reached her, he bent down, took her hand, and kissed it.
«Ohhhhhhhhh YIKES»
She brushed him off at once, which seemed to fluster him just a little, to her relief. She was glad to be regaining the upper hand in Whatever This Was.
Which. She already had, by the way. And never lost. Actually, disregard what she just said. This was so fine. He was the one embarrassing himself.
«What The Beep Was That For??? [WEIRDO]»
It itched. She shouldn’t itch. She looked down and noticed something… growing out of it.
«Ew What Is That A Flower???»
«…»
«With Your Face On It Ok Sure»
«Whatever»
“ Heh, that’s a little gift from me to you, Princess. Token of my gratitude.”
«Error: I Am A Queen Not A Princess Or Lady»
“ Oh, I see. Hey, funny enough, I actually happen to know a-”
«No You Have To Say It Right»
“…”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my Queen. A guy’s only got a certain number of VOICE CLIPS.”
«Well Ok Then How About You Log On Boot Up Audacity And Fix ‘Em Then»
“”Boot” “Up” what…?”
Queen shuddered slightly, once again to her shame. «I Think It Is Time To Abort This Conversation»
“Aw, already? We’ve barely even introduced ourselves-”
«Abort»
Queen stepped back, chassis already inching towards the door. She wasn’t afraid to make it clear when she was finished with a conversation, and this would be no different. «I Gotta Like»
«Do A Thingy»
«Plus I’m Bored So»
«Toodles Adios Arrivederci Sayonara List Entry Duplication Error Etc. Goodbye»
She turned sharply on her heel (nearly slamming face-first into the guy’s annoyingly sharp and symmetrical doorframe, though of course she’d never admit it), and with that, quickly exited, running out of the room and back into the hallway, making her way to the stairwell without so much as a second glance.
…
Wow. That was weird. She’s not doing that again.
…
Except she totally was, because she’d only ended up with more questions than she had answers, and obtaining answers to questions was Queen’s whole thing, even if she had to ask around a little first. Her function.
Her purpose.
And she was so, so good at it still, in spite of it all and all the new fallibility she had to learn and accept- so what, she’d let herself forget that? Just because some weird guy kind of freaked her out a little?
No one should… do that. No one should throw the ridiculously odd and eccentric Cyber Ruler off her feet.
And this guy, Flowy or Frower or Flowey or whatever the hell he’d said his name was she’d neglected to add it to her spacious memory banks, was no different.
…So why did he throw her off so bad?
Queen shook her head, grinding her teeth and clearing her processes. No, she was stalling, and overthinking, overcalculating. Making assumptions and ruminating on them.
Yes, it was natural, but she’d learned and she was learning and she was doing such a good job and like hell she was going to ruin that now. Over some strange dick with a fancy party trick. She wasn’t going to let this get to her and fuck her progress right over- that some guy annoyed her Bad and she didn’t know how to feel about it immediately. It… it was just like Burghley all over again, wasn’t it? There was nothing wrong with the guy, he was just annoying and she was reluctant to talk to him more than she had to. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t, and it didn’t mean she’d let it fester, either. Lancer was worth more than that, the Lightners were worth more than that. Susie was worth more than that. Noelle was worth more than that.
She’d recalibrate (because clearly something was amiss in her sensors, making her more susceptible to enabling her “Pissed The Fuck Off” variable), and she’d try again.
The Queen’s chariot could not be stopped, and it would not cease for this.
So, Queen steeled herself, let it wash away with the clearing of windows in her head, forgot about it, and moved on.
She could always try again later, and she would get the answers she sought.
…Besides, her mind was moving far too fast, anyways. How’d she get all that from a byte-sized conversation? Which was not even bothering her at all before or now by the way. She was just… mildly annoyed.
…and she was dwelling on it again. She erased her processes once more. Something must be askew, and she’d have to have Swatch look at it later.
Queen made her way back downstairs, and suddenly, the din she had heard and envied later came back to her audio processors once more.
“Again! Again!! More bikes and explosions and fire, Mr. Princei, more magic!! Magic, magic, MAGIC!!”
“Aqua, how many times- it’s PRINCES! The plural is PRINCES!! Not PRINCEI!”
“Uuuuu, why would more than one prince be called a princess…?”
“It’s not- NEVERMIND!”
Over the talking that became clearer on descent, she could make out excited laughter (that had to belong to her Small Round Boy), boisterous yet anxious rambling (oh, she’d have to pin that on her television neighbour-turned-roommate from the sounds of it), and some quieter murmuring (wait okay Who Was That).
Popping her head round the wall when she got to the bottom, she could see that her analysis had been (mostly) correct, as expected. Crowded round the castle foyer, she could see Lancer perched on his bike, the comically large TV Darkner crouched somewhere nearby wringing his antennae nervously(?), two of the flowers (the smaller cyan one bounded and skipped excitedly around the slightly larger purple, who lay knelt on the ground in some form of Anguish (Dork)), and closer to the cauldron stood Prince Peachboy, whose name and voice she had neglected to commit to memory yet again.
“Great point, Blue Person whose name I’ve also neglected to know! Toothpaste boy, why don’t you get the name changed in the Dictionary of Words™?”
“I, uh, I-I can’t just do that, Lancer. Sorry.”
Lancer deflated only slightly, leaning back on his bike as Tenna piped up from behind him. “HEY, cheer up, Prancer-”
“It’s Lancer!”
“Mr. Generosity!! I’ll have the word changed for ya across all of our special TV TIME 
!! Considering their funky modern nature, that’s about as good as anything, Ha Ha!”
“You mean it, TV Man?!”
“SWEAR IT on my collection of NON-GLOOBY slime (barely or Never used)!! And as a lil’ 
special, when the, uh, L-Lightners find me a new home, they’ll uh, they’ll get to see it too!”
Lancer seemed to consider this carefully, as the cyan flower near him piped up eagerly at the former show host’s words. “Uuuuu, Mr. TV, can you put me in your quiz show game too??”
Tenna batted largely with a huge gloved hand, laughing and looking away. “Heh, sorry kid, that’s premium. I can swing it if you manage to get enough POINTs in one of our patented 
-”
“Oooooooooo, play! Play!! I wanna play! I wanna play! …Seth should play too!!”
“H-hey, WAIT a sec-!!”
“SURE THING!! Mike, fire up a dual PHYSICAL CHALLENGE for our petalled contestants-”
At this point, Queen had already turned round to head back to her room (technically her and Tenna’s joint room for “Physical Challenges” such as these, which probably meant she’d be subject to watching or participating in whatever was being plotted anyway, causing her to marvel at the futility of choice or whatever and also she didn’t care she’d just probably wipe the floor with those kids and that was no fun). She’d been intent on joining in before, but it didn’t seem there was much to her fancy going on. No more sick explosions or special effects, just a lot of senseless chatter around a room that didn’t seem to go anywhere, and that Queen reckoned she’d find herself tuned out of in roughly 5 minutes. Plus, she wasn’t particularly… what, close to anyone?? Besides Lancer, of course. The flowers fascinated her, but she’d had her fill of conversation with them for one day. She’d already forgotten what the prince looked like, which was probably his fault for not leaving much of an impression, and Tenna…
…That was… complicated. It didn’t have to be, and she didn’t know why, but it was and she wasn’t keen on pushing his buttons anymore.
They’d both silently agreed on that, much to Queen’s annoyance (and confusion and shame and a plethora of other emotions she didn’t understand and shouldn’t have and Would Ignore as a consequence). Which had made it especially difficult to compete against him in the coveted Lancerlympics, by the way. The things she does to satisfy others’ irrational emotional protocols.
…
Queen reached her room, summoned a glass of acid (and a long curled straw to accompany it), and sat down against the wall.
…
…And something felt wrong.
Something had felt wrong for a long time.
She remembered. Realised. Tried to re-re-re-forget.
Failed.
This wasn’t right, though it had to be. Something was off, though there couldn’t be.
Queen had double-triple-quadruple checked her calculations over and over, and each time her logical thought processes had decreed that this, the here and now, was the best outcome. The happiest things could be.
The prince had explained it to Lancer many times, and Lancer had thusly recounted his reasoning to her. Dark Worlds beyond the Grand Fountain that gave Castle Town form could not be allowed to exist. They threatened the delicate balance of Dark and Light. Dark Worlds were dangerous. Cyber World was dangerous.
…and Castle Town was good. Castle Town was happy.
Here, all her citizens dwelled happily. Here, she got a chance to meet Darkners that could not have survived long in Cyber World otherwise.
People she would not have gotten to care about.
Here she had Lancer. And her Ex-Husband or whatever he was to make fun of. And her beloved Swatch and Tasque Manager still. She had a variety of people to acquaint herself with, to meet and explore and understand, to learn.
Here was an oasis just for them, a sun so dark.
…but it wasn’t right.
Castle Town, with its ever changing architecture and iridescent blue landscapes, town square, eternally locked Great Door that teased her with the promise of something that lay outside, just beyond her scope. Beyond her reach.
She wondered if one day she could wrench that door open, throw an Extra Dangerous Glass right at it and blow a hole clean through. Wondered if she could walk through and wander forever. Walk until she reached another side.
Walk until she reached emerald wireframe skies and fields, a big blue cityscape, a spiralling mansion so impossible to navigate and yet its every inch so ingrained in her circuits, its labyrinth of plush red carpets and paintings and
Oh. YIKES.
Queen chastised herself internally, lightly, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it. What was she thinking? What was she saying?
…
She missed Cyber World- god, she missed it more than anything- but the path was clear.
The dark threatened a calamity beyond even her comprehension, as much as it pained her, as much shame as it brought.
She had almost wrought the apocalypse in her pursuit for eternal, utopian paradise. She almost destroyed everything. She had to remember.
…this was why she had to learn. This is why learning was good. If Queen accepted her own shortcomings, she would be better. Simple logic. If Queen accepted her fallibility, she could learn to recognise it later in circumstances such as this.
…
So why did it hurt?
Good shouldn’t hurt. Good should feel good.
Good shouldn’t feel like a small and cramped and alien town, not designed to hold her and her big ideas. Her sacrilegious ideas, her ideas that went against what the world intended, it seemed.
But the world was so fraught with suffering, misery, pain. Pain for the Lightners.
She’d been designed to absolve it, hadn’t she?! She’d been born to stop it. So why didn’t it work?! Why couldn’t she
Good shouldn’t feel like a pathetic show of pity, remorse, a consolation prize for the loss of something that still lingered as great in her flawed, flawed head. Good shouldn’t feel horrendously homesick and misplaced, like the people around you have been flattened into cutouts, their stories told, their books closed.
Good shouldn’t feel like lying down and accepting the world, no stranger to tragedy, deciding your fate for you. Good shouldn’t feel like being okay with discarding yourself and your hope, your drive, to make something better, just because everyone around you is telling you that this is better. That this is the best it can be. For you.
For something like You, and everyone else.
Good shouldn’t feel… bad.
Good shouldn’t feel bad.
Was this part of the process? Was this something she had to identify, to find in herself, and correct? Something she had to challenge and learn from?
Or was something wrong? Was something wrong?
…
Flowers.
Did they dream? Did they aspire to something bigger than themselves?
With their spark of light, and the gift of breath and life that lay in their motionless vessels, did they dare to imagine something beyond what they were supposed to?
Did they lean into irrational processes, fallibility, as Lightners tended to do- did they focus their will into the concept of having such a thing, like determination upon a blade, paint upon a canvas?
Did a flower hope for something more than The Best Things Are Supposed To Get?
…Queen’s processes drifted idly to an obnoxious golden silhouette, and the actions it had dared to take. The way it seemed to defy her easily, dance around her easily, and the expectations of the conversation.
To bend and twist and mould, like an author crafting a character. Like a Lightner shaping a Darkner from its dreams, its will.
…
That.
Was that what had interested her? Was that what had fascinated her, drove her so mad, that she had to leave?
Was it not simply his pathetic, annoying nature, but his audacity to reflect the person Queen hoped to be most?
His audacity to declare himself the master of his own fate, own personhood? His will?
…
…
What was she saying?
The perfect Queen of Cyber World would not be outdone by a flower. The Queen who wielded the unstoppable chariot, unstoppable drive, the hunger for an iron will and a world better than the one she was resigned to, despite her wrongs, her misunderstandings, her error, all of it, she was-
…she was spiralling. Her circuits had tended to do this, now that she had to think twice through each and every thought process, try to correct herself when she saw herself going wrong, slipping back into old erroneous habits she knew better than to pursue now. Sometimes she overcorrected.
She didn’t know where one thing started and ended in her complex. It was supposed to run perfect, infallible- and it didn’t, and now she could scarcely tell what part of her was wrong in the first place.
Something was wrong. And she didn’t know if it was with her, or the world around her, or both. Didn’t know if she was assuming too much of herself, or if the world was demanding too little of her.
…fuck.
Why couldn’t it all just be perfect? Why couldn’t she have been right?
Why did eternal darkness have to be so bad?
…
Well,
She could find out.
Queen was good at seeking answers. Great at seeking answers. Exceptional at seeking answers. No matter how wrong it felt to ask questions, because she knew better now; and her pursuit could not be ceased.
So she’d talk to the golden flower dick again.
She’d get to the root (Ha Ha) of his arrogance masquerading as will, or his will masquerading as arrogance. She’d tear her way through, and analyse, and be correct- or be wrong, and learn.
And she’d keep learning, until something clicked. Until everything felt logical. Until the contradictions stopped, until the world made sense again.
Queen didn’t care how annoying she had to be. Intimidating or brash or even friendly- she was unstoppable. She knew now that she could not be perfect- so she’d fight to be the next best thing.
She was going to satiate this, because that was her job. And despite everything, Queen was damn good at her job. And then things would be good, and she could finally put the stray, irrational whirs in her circuits to rest, and let herself grow within a world that was logical. No; both logical and good.
She would make it so. She would make it so, as she had devoted herself to all that time ago. She would.
…
She took a long, contemplative drink of her acid, and hummed to herself in some form of affirmation.
…
…before being rudely interrupted by her humongous TV roommate she had completely forgotten was going to be up here later popping cartoonishly into the room, cyan and purple flowers perched on his shoulders. Startling her so embarrassingly bad from her Deep Cool Thoughtful Processes, that she dropped the glass she was nowhere near finished with (thankfully her throwing glass this time, so it was safe), shattering loudly on the ground and leaving a lime green puddle of corrosive acid to eat at her floor.
“GET READY, FOLKS!! Here comes a DOUBLE FEATURE unlike ANY you’ve seen before!!”
Oh My Circuits Can A Cool Smart Hot Ass Laptop Not Get Elapsed Time Five Minutes And Thirty Nine Seconds To Herself To Run Thought Processes In This BEEPing Place????