So. This mysterious white text character who may or may not be Lord English but probably is but might not be the demon but could be.
e: or rather the guy who is neither Lord English nor the demon but is Doc Scratch.
Let's get the fanfic ball rolling!
I understand your name is Rose.
Is that correct?
TT: Yes... yes it is.
TT: Who is this?
A nice name, Rose.
Curious that it would be given to one so jaded.
TT: I'll ask again: who is this?
TT: Are you another troll?
That's not a bad first guess, but it's incorrect.
I suppose you could say that I am the one who trolls the trolls.
I have not contacted all of them, but then again, not all of them have contacted you.
TT: Okay, I think I follow that.
TT: I don't suppose there's any chance I can get you to change your text colour, is there?
TT: Only highlighting your text is quite tedious.
Sorry, but I'm too attached to white.
I must say, though, Rose, that I like your style.
Far more engaging than any of my previous contacts.
I'm not a gambling man.
But if I was, I would bet that you'd go far.
TT: Enigmatic flattery aside, is there a purpose to this conversation?
I understand that you currently have a desire to break free of this game's strangling loops of cause and effect.
TT: How do you know that?
My dear Rose, you left that document of yours on a Furthest Ring server for all to read.
Please credit me with the intelligence to research my contacts before I introduce myself to them.
But yes: you want to break the game.
An entirely understandable attitude.
It has not, shall we say, dealt you a fair hand.
TT: You're right there.
TT: We've tried to play this game properly, and look at what's happening.
Well, you've tried to play the game properly.
I am not sure the same could be said for your friends.
TT: Why, what have they done?
Oh... little things.
A present falling into the wrong hands, trust placed in the wrong people, copies made of the wrong documents.
It all adds up.
But I digress, Rose.
I know much about this game.
I want to help you break it.
TT: That's an intriguing proposition.
TT: But why should I trust you?
An excellent question.
Why indeed should you trust a stranger who just started talking to you over instant messaging?
All I can say is that without my help, I do not think you will get very far.
You are an intelligent girl, Rose, but without my knowledge of the game's inner workings you will hit a dead end sooner or later.
Even if you bring in your friends' considerable game-breaking talents.
TT: Hmm, so you say.
TT: I'm not sure I agree with you on that note.
I will give you time to think it over.
I will contact you again in one hour.
If you decide that you do not require my assistance, then you will hear no more from me.
Until then, Ms. Lalonde.
Oh gosh this thread. Great stories all around. I went from not reading any fanfiction at all to considering writing some. but i might not because i haven't taken a writing class in years and i'm self conscious so yeah
Although, the idea of John introducing his friends to the pure... experience of Nic Cage's acting is so tempting, I must get it out of my head
Phew! Finally caught up on this thread again. Geez, was this thread always this fast? It can't have been since I only rejoined at like, what, page 37 or something? (oh huh, page 38, ok: point being, if it has moved as fast as it has since I've FINALLY been paying attention again then it would have already been on like, the 3rd thread or something). Tons of great writing over the past 3 pages; too much to comment on really. I will be working on something today to post and I think it'll be a lot of fun to write. Hope to finish it by today; it won't be anything all that long.
@Red Pen: I read the third chapter of your fic recently and enjoyed it immensly. It's a brilliant idea in general, and i can't get enough of the way the characters interact.
It...did plant something in my head though. Just an idea. Not a request. In fact, anyone can use it if they wish. It just struck me as funny if Rose discovered Jack's ULTIMATE WEAKNESS, and it had involved the ring still staying on.
Hint: Jack's prototyping included a cat.
Hint for the Hint: Cats like to be scratched behind the ears.
Wheeeeeee cT paired with eeeeveryone!
XD I kid. But heres him hantemancing Karkat.
CentaursTesticle [CT] began trolling CarcioGenecist [CG]
CG: OH FUCKING FANTASTIC. THIS. THIS IS JUST WHAT THE FUCKING MOTHER GRUB ORDERED.
CT: D --> I don't suppose there is any way to dissuade you from your apparently pre prepared 100ming rant.
CG: FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.
CG: THIS IS PERFECT. REALLY. MY LUSCUS IS DEAD, AND NOW YOU;RE HERE TO RUB IT IN MY FUCKING FACE, RIGHT? ALL I NEED NOW IS FOR YOUR FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC BLUE BLOOD PAL TO GET IN ON THIS.
CT: D --> AG is in absolutely no way associated with me. Regardless of the color of our blood. I could not possibly have more distaste for her and her childish little games.
CG: SOMETHING WE ACTUALLY AGREE WITH. BECAUSE MY FUCKING DAY COULDN'T POSSIBLY GET WORSE/WEIRDER.
CG: FINE THEN WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT?! SINCE EVERYONE IS SO FUCKING DETERMINED TO MAKE ME MORE MISERABLE.
CT: D --> ....I would like to apologize for your 10ss.
CT: D --> I may have nothing but utter distaste for you. But I would not wish that on anyone. So. I am sorry.
CG: AC PUT YOU UP TO THIS, DIDN'T SHE.
CT: D --> No. Nepata has nothing to do with this. I just thought that...
CG: THOUGHT WHAT.
CT: D --> ...I am not a well liked Tr0ll. I could not care less about that, most days. But in these circumstances....
CT: D --> Is there anything I can do? To... help you?
Karkat stared at nothing, frozen in disbelief. Had someone stolen his fucking keyboard?! But he;d done that retarded 0 and 1 thing. His first impulse was to scream his fury at the other troll, and log off.
CG: IT'S MY FAULT.
CG: IT'S MY FUCKING FAULT. I RAN THE GODDAMNED PROGRAM AND NOW I'M FUCKING CURSED AND MY LUSCUS IS GONE.
CG: AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE.
CT: D --> One of those f00lish ATH programs? You ran it?
CG: AND NOW AT WON'T EVEN ANSWER ME AND EVERY THINGS GOING TO FUCKING HELL AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT
CG: EVEN GA AND TC HAD THEIR LUSCUS DIE AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF ME.
CT: D --> Calm down. You won't do anyone any good by becoming a useless, sobbing wreck. This isn't like you.
CG: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS?
CT: D --> Because I have yet to see you bend to any obstacle yet presented to you. Understand this, Karkat. I hate you. I hate everything about your f001ish countenance. From your ridiculous little horns to your ugly protruding fangs. I could wrote the word hate on a thousand sheets of data wiring, and it would still be but a percentage of my utter hatred for you. But I swear to the gods that if you are ever to fall, it will be by my hand a100ne.
CG: I HATE YOU MORE.
CT: D --> I doubt that's even possible. But nonetheless, the mechanisms of this game will one day grant us the lu%ery of meeting face to face.
CT: D --> And if you don't pull yourself together and survive until then, I will personally break into the afterlife to drag your sorry soul back out again that I might visit the full extent of my hate upon you. That is the oath I swear. By my hate for you.
CG: I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. YOU FUCKING WATCH. I'M GOING TO KICK NINE DIFFERENT KINDS OF ASS ALL OVER THIS FUCKING GAME, SO I CAN TRACK YOU DOWN AND BREAK THE REST OF YOUR FUCKING UGLY TEETH IN.
CT: D --> I await your fists with baited breath, my precious gutterblood. Now go forth and avenge yourself upon the universe.
CarcioGenecist [CG] began trolling CentaursTesticle [CT]
CG: WAIT, WHAT?!
Had... had he just...? Did the blue blood just say he...
Now Karkat was confused. But he wasn't sad anymore. It was there, but buried under fury and determination. Fuck it- he;d ask him, face to face, what he;d meant. Because he hated CT.
More then CT could ever, ever know.
Well, I'm done with 1/3rd of what I plan to write for tonight. I decided to see how much of a pain in the ass it would be to format all the text when I was done and yep, it is a nightmare. I'm just going to post this as a 'preview' and work on the next two sections. God, it was horrible to format this. Based on this story. I'm trying to write out a fan-fic written by John, Rose, and Jade starring Aragorn-Dave Strider and the elf princess Arwen-Jade (but I'm just calling them Dave and Jade; sorry).
Dave Strider was nervous. could feel his heart beat faster. Tiny drops of sweat clung to his brow as he approached a turn in the route he walked on. I mean, he Dave was always kinda nervous when it came to most anything! He was just pretty good adept at keeping his cool and all. Today though was a really nervous day for him. His boots crunched against the ground that he stepped on. as he brought his foot down gently. Dave's nerves, though shot, still served him enough to guide his steps A tree was in front of him but to his left side a bit too. The road he Dave was on was full of trees. Dave liked trees. They reminded him of a simpler time; a time before the world around him had plunged into darkness. He Last week, Dave had started a quest to save the world last week. A meeting had been held by the chiefs of every race around the world. gathering of the chiefs of every tribe composing the freer world met such as to decide how best to handle an all-encomposing evil which has spread across the land. They had decided It had been decided that a group of heroes was to be gathered to go out and destroy the evil. Dave was among those chosen to be part of this group. The meeting had taken place at the very house near where Dave currently stood. His feet dragged as Dave moved further down the path; an unwillingness to move struck him. Though the house to his right had served as the domicile for the gathering of the chiefs, it brought to Dave a fondness for a former peace coupled in dichotomy with a dread of what was to come. He had come out back to the house just before his party was supposed to leave on their big journey. The quest would be dangerous; Dave couldn't even say if he would be able to come back after it all. It hurt pained Dave to think about that though consider failure. He couldn't just leave without first saying goodbye to the elf princess Jade. Her grandfather, who was a bad ass I guess, among the council gathered previously, owned the house and uh, I guess was a king too. He helped decide the group and all that. The path Dave was on followed the contours of the grounds near the house until a river which crossed cut across through its center. A simple bridge was built over this river as an overpass and it served as the meeting place between Dave and Jade.
Sorry. This is so crappy. Bluh
John, it isn't really that bad. I liked how you wrote the 'simpler times' part particularly. However, would you mind if I went through it and fixed it up a bit?
Haha, oh geez, sure if you think you can salvage it. I know it's not that great but I tried. Why did I go first again?
I will try and be gentle John. Excuse me if you find any changes excessive
Oh wow, you changed a lot
I'm sorry John. It was a good effort though. You know what? This is somewhat unfair of me. How about I let you and Jade rewrite my section as well.
Well... if you say so
Edit: Bolded it so that it would be easier to read.
Last edited by Shadow of the Lotus; 07-30-2010 at 12:06 PM.
but i might not because i haven't taken a writing class in years and i'm self conscious so yeah
If you feel at all like you want to do it, give it a shot! You have no idea how scared I was to even post anything period, let alone something I had written. But then I did. Granted, never expected I would ever follow it up with actual fic, as yeah, I haven't written anything ever outside of having to write for school. Got an idea one night though, and held onto it. (Note: I was in bed. No writing utensil/paper/computer in sight. Grabbed my DS and scribbled my thoughts into the pictochat thing you get when you turn it on sans card.)
Long story less long, I'm really glad that I pushed through, and felt great about myself pretty much instantly.
AND HERE I AM. Probably going to become way more active in the fora (hell, my post count quintuple'd yesterday), and maybe (hopefully???) make a whole bunch of new friends in the process (ALREADY ENGAGED. THAT DIDN'T TAKE LONG AT ALL.).
TL;DR - I'm as self conscious as they come, I will gladly challenge you to a self-consciousness-off. I will kick your ass. (In the ABSOLUTE NICEST WAY POSSIBLE.) Soooo, write something! Post it! A wise person pointed out to me that your inner critic is always your harshest critic. Beat it with a stick, trick it to look the other way and post, KILL IT WITH FIRE. Whatever it takes. I guarantee you'll be glad you did.
Hope my semi-(mostly-)incoherent rambling helps in some way, shape, or form!
Originally Posted by SausageMahoney
Although, the idea of John introducing his friends to the pure... experience of Nic Cage's acting is so tempting
Have I mentioned before that you should totally DO IT!
Also my TL;DR was about as long as what it was summarizing. Fuck me.
God I can't stay mad at Noir.
He's like when a tiny puppy murders a squirrel and brings the corpse into your house as a present to you and it's wagging its tail and is SO PROUD of itself.
Then it goes into your house, tears your couch apart, and shits on all of your carpets.
Lotus: AHAHA I LOVE IT. The mental image of John, Jade, and Rose passing around a Dave/Jade fic while he groans and cusses and hates them all is basically the best thing ever.
Friendly_Troll: CT hatemancing Karkat is...strangely and bizarrely appealing. I like this idea more than I think I should.
PaulPower: MYSTERY. INTRIGUE. SUSPENSE. I read through the log just internally pleading to Rose to not listen to him ahhhhh.
kmsumrall: please stop making me feel sorry for CT he is such a creeper but so sympathetic here
Orange: YES YES HOLY SHIT YES. Eleven and Dave, BFFs.
nextian: I LOVE YOU. Your voices for Rose and Dave are always so amazing.
TG: isnt a joke
TT: Now I know you're sick.
love love love.
Doc: I CAN I SAY I LOVE YOU TOO? What started as just a goofy kind of idea culminated into all sorts of unadulterated awesome. Like:
"The other log." There was a bit of a chill in John's voice now, and for reasons he could not consciously comprehend, it excited Dave as much as it bothered him. "She thinks the world of you."
These DW ideas are the best ideas.
Originally Posted by nextian
EVERYONE SHOULD WRITE IT. Doc first! No, wait, me first.
I'M ON IT.
This turned out a little more serious than I'd expected it to so I gave it a name and everything whoops. (ps: doc I stole your archane universe shamelessly)
came voices aloft
He's a musician. It means a few things.
1. Falling asleep at his mixing equipment with a loop thumping on repeat had been a rite of passage.
2. Inspiration strikes him at the worst times; he's had to carry a line or melody around in his head for hours, days, before doing anything about it.
3. After awhile, he just drank the compressed, crackling eddies of trip-hop, dreamed in the mechanical verve of trance, and breathed DnB beat drops like a second kind of air. By the time he was eleven, it had consumed his iPod and harddrive in overflowing gigs and loosely organized project folders that only bloated bigger as the years went on. Now, his life is rhythm and synth and samples spliced by the thousands.
4. Most importantly, it means that drums.
"I would hope not," Rose says, pulling an earbud out with a grimace. "Unless this is another of your futile stabs at fraternal imitation, I find it hard to believe you'd be able to create any of this if drums actually bothered you."
He isn't sure when he said anything aloud and that is what bothers him--and more than he wants to admit. His answer, regardless, is a strained, "Shut up." He doesn't even raise his head from where it's pressed flush against the cool tile of the kitchen island.
"In fact, call me a philistine, but I'm having trouble understanding why this is even classified as music. It's a bit like a chain gang driving railroad spikes into my temples, really."
He finds the analogy eerily evocative and entirely too accurate for all the wrong reasons and it bothers him more than he wants to admit. "Shut up," he says.
"No heartfelt spiritual accompaniment, though. Just--what was it again? 'Let them see your black heart tonight'? Poets laureate, all."
"Do you have a fucking hearing problem, Lalonde?"
She stands there for more moments than he's comfortable with, all folded arms, chilly silence and flensing perception. He counts out the one two three four one two three four one two three four until she finally turns on a pristine, black-leathered heel and click-clacks out into the living room.
Long after she's gone, he finds he can't stop.
"Shut up," he whispers to the tile, to himself, to no one.
It bothers him more than he wants to admit.
He knows there's a problem, a screaming, repeating, neverending double heartbeat one two three four one two three four of a problem--and now, laid out flat on the ground with the breath knocked out of him and his throat hurting and his head hurting and his temples throbbing with the rhythm, he can't deny it anymore.
"Dude, I thought you were going to get out of the way!â€ John's concerned face hovered into view, along with a hand stretched out in offering. â€œWhat's wrong?"
He screws his eyes closed; if he can't shut out the one two three four, then he can shut out John's uneasy expression which only makes the drumline snap louder. "Nothing." Everything two three four.
"Dave, you suck at lying. You've been off your game all week. And you're--I dunno, moving kind of different. It's weird. Truth be told, man, I'm a little worried about you."
His eyes are open again and he stares at the offered hand. He goes to take it
and slides his sword out of containment one two three four easy as breathing take his hand and gut him weaponless never expecting it so naÃ¯ve and trusting
and pulls himself to his feet, uneasy and wobbling and more than a little one two three four nauseous. "Sounding kind of gay, Egbert.â€
â€œ...What did you say?â€
He rolls his eyes, one two three four, and replies, â€œI said sounding kind of gay, Egbert. Now who's off his game?â€
â€œNo,â€ John snaps, brows lanced down; he grabs Dave by the upper arm and forces him around. â€œAfter that. And why the hell is your sword out?â€
His blood freezes. â€œI didn't say anything after that,â€ is his weak response. He can't think between all the one two three fours and even without looking down he knows that there's a balanced, familiar heft in his hand and a filigreed hilt rubbing at his calluses, and he doesn't know when or why or how he called it out.
He looks at John, but he doesn't know what to say.
four one two three of them sit in the living room, voices hushed and hurried as he listens from the kitchen. They think he can't hear them, maybe, over the thundering one two three four one two three four, or that it didn't matter if he did. He scoffs to himself. A unilateral decision that Dave Strider doesn't get any fucking say in it. Precious.
Anger spikes beneath the scorn, red hot and white knuckled; he thinks they might have been his friends once and here they are, plotting planning scheming behind his back always one two three four behind his back no fucking respect for his privacy
Ridged vinyl feels cool under his fingertips and a song unfolds in his head, a tinkling, soothing music box melody that mutes the tripping staccato of one two three four war drums; time cradles him in light and sound and everything, floods him with a rushing, ice-cold injection of relief.
It brings with it a single, wide-eyed moment of sanity. He uses it wisely.
He supposes distance doesn't matter when goddamned Jade Harley can slide through space like a second skin, fold it over and over and over and over one two three four like paper. He supposes hiding doesn't matter when goddamned Rose Lalonde can see him wherever he goes, tracing and tracking like an oracle bloodhound.
dumbest fucking mistake should've taken care of it caught them off guard too late now left a waking trail of time like a goddamn golden glitter first grade art project she sees him one two three for can't run just fight through it
Jade stands there alone a bigger mistake an opening the first of one two three four many too easy to divide and conquer when they divide all on their own, a frown drawing down the corners of her mouth. Part of him wants to make her smile. Part of him wants to slit her throat.
"Please, Dave,â€ she pleads, arms spread weaponless one two three four too easy too easy too easy and ready to take him back. â€œCome with me. It'll be over soon. I promise."
"Imagine that,â€ he says in a voice that stopped being his when the one two three four crept into the timbre. â€œNo cryptic, useless bullshit for once. Give the girl a medal."
For all her words, for all the wanting, he shudders with a primal, bloodsick kind of laughter to see the fear in her eyes as he takes one step towards her and she takes one step back.
"Because you're right," he says, face split into a wild, feral grin. "It'll all be over soon."
over in one two three four one two three four and he gives his sword a playful, posturing twirl in his hand.
Reality bends and buckles and she's gone, too quick to process before his temple splits open and his vision melts like mercury into white hot pain. He falls as she pushes him down, as he finds himself weighted by her knees pinning his shoulders and the chilly sting of a pistol-mouth greeting the underside of his chin.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry to have to do this to you, but it's the only way, Dave.â€ She grimaces as she brushes aside a tuft of red hair--heavy with blood--out of his eyes, tracing gently with thin fingers over the outline of the weeping gash on the side of his head. â€œWe're going to help you. I'm bringing you back."
The part of him that doesn't want to throw her off, that doesn't want to rake his fingers in her hair and pull until she screams, that doesn't want to cup her cheeks in his hands and snap her pretty little pixie neck, only hopes that the effort isn't wasted.
q: did jade harley just pistol whip dave strider
a: yes. keepin that pimp hand strong.
TL;DR - I'm as self conscious as they come, I will gladly challenge you to a self-consciousness-off. I will kick your ass. (In the ABSOLUTE NICEST WAY POSSIBLE.)
Oh you have NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE GETTING YOURSELF INTO
Originally Posted by Tezrial
Have I mentioned before that you should totally DO IT!
okay okay fine jeez
I'll probably cook something up by tonight. The problem I have with doing anything artistic is a lack of confidence, really. I tend to make a big push and make something really great, then chip away at it with my backspace-chisel until it's merely "well alright I guess, fuck it I'm tired". I'll try to ignore that.
NOOOO no new threads. But people should tag it on AO3.
DocBeard: "Good to see she's as dedicated to doctor patient confidentiality as fucking usual." Dave groused, shoving his sunglasses up with one hand and finding his other closing around the hilt of his sword. "So, what, are you here to try and cure me with a big hug and some electroshock therapy?" Love your Dave. Love your John kicking his ass.
sarasvati: I think my favorite part is totally irrelevant to the larger plot: "In fact, call me a philistine, but I'm having trouble understanding why this is even classified as music. It's a bit like a chain gang driving railroad spikes into my temples, really." And the rhythm of this is fantastic.
Seriously -- you both have this beautiful, magical image of Dave lashing out like the ultimate weapon and being mercy-beaten-down and it's so fabulous. I kind of want the Jade from sarasvati's fic to go save the Jade from Doc's.
Also, Sausage, re: the backspace-chisel -- I have a fic I've been working on since last summer that consists of three paragraphs in second person because every time I open it I just delete more of it. I really feel you. As far as I can tell, the best thing you can do is pretend your backspace key doesn't work until the first draft's over (a thing I am not very good at doing.)
Are we going to need a separate thread for all the HS/DW crossover that is ERUPTING LIKE THE AWESOMEST VOLCANO EVER?
I don't think so, unless folks would prefer it. I kind of dug the idea of a doing a round robin sort of thing-though clearly my scene would have to be after sarasvati's anyway. Orange, nextian, sar, your thoughts? heh, one two three four.
I'm flattered you wanted to borrow my scribblings. I designed the Archane setting to pretty much be a setting as friendly to as much post-story stuff as possible. There's still an Earth to visit and save, there are multiple surviving governments trying to rebuild Prospit and Derse, remnants of the Lands are floating around somewhere...think of it like where all the pieces go in between games, if you will.
Seriously -- you both have this beautiful, magical image of Dave lashing out like the ultimate weapon and being mercy-beaten-down and it's so fabulous. I kind of want the Jade from sarasvati's fic to go save the Jade from Doc's.
I agree that Jade was pretty awesome there. Did it really come across as murderous? I just figured Dave lashed out at Jade and hurt her feelings. Mostly I just saw John as Dave's 'Doctor' and liked the idea of the Drums being soothed by fighting with his best enemy.
q: did jade harley just pistol whip dave strider
a: yes. keepin that pimp hand strong.
Did it really come across as murderous? I just figured Dave lashed out at Jade and hurt her feelings. Mostly I just saw John as Dave's 'Doctor' and liked the idea of the Drums being soothed by fighting with his best enemy.
I did get the John vs. Dave Doctor vs. Master thing, but I totally also did think Dave had murdered Jade. :/ On the other hand, now yrs and sarasvati's fics work much better in parallel HOORAY.
Since these things take so long to format, I'm just going to post them as I finish (and then include everything in 'part 3' of this fanfic written by John, Rose, and Jade).
A small blue lamp hung over the bridge; draping it in teal colors as Dave approached. It was hanging off a tree. The sun, though still visible, had largely moved on past the house; something which Dave found it more difficult to do like a tree with roots and stuff. The designated grouping of heroes was to leave that evening with the intent of traveling only the short distance needed to reach a nearby town. Doubtless the journey would feel longer; every step a reminder of the distance between themselves relative to familiarity and safety. Dave shook his head. Focus was better spent on what time he did have left. Time best spent with... the elf princess Jade!!!
"Hello the beautiful elf princess Jade" Dave said as the bridge came into his view. The elf princess Jade stood at the edge of the bridge opposite of Dave. Her face was framed with large circular lenses which enlarged her emerald eyes. Long, black hair flowed from the top of her head over her shoulders; cresting against the mid of her back. Only a hint of red splashed against her cheeks as she smiled at Dave. She was really pretty!
"Hello Hi Dave," Jade let out softly yelled excitedly, "it would figure that the knight of time would keep to such strict measure. I'm really happy to see you!"
"Milady Yo," Dave came, "I ask forgiveness for my lateness. Though it may appear I am just in time, my want was to be here before you. My path lay heavy and my feet were weighted. I dread my coming departure. I'm not really late but I kinda am. I wanted to get here early and make it all pretty for us. That, and I'm going to miss you a lot." Dave continued up to the cusp of the bridge and stopped. Jade hadn't moved while Dave approached; her head trailing after Dave as he moved forward. A lump gathered in Dave's throat. It was difficult to see her now. It was probably another tree or something.To realize that this could be the very last time he ever saw Jade felt like a last breath before being drowned. Oh noooooo! A beautiful last gasp for the only life he had ever known, or would ever want to know, lay before him.
"You are very brave so cooooool for having taken this task," said Jade, "it is foolish to risk your immortality like this. I really hope you don't get hurt! < 3!!!!" The knight of time was blessed with unaging. With his two rings, Dave could turn back time within a limit and redo past mistakes. One ring enabled this power; the other prevented Dave from aging. It was necessary for the timed ring to work that Dave would not age in his repeated experience of time already passed.
Here is my horrible contribution. It is absolute trash. I wish we had more time to work on this. My contribution is far too verbose.
Hey! I think it's great. I wish I could write that well.
Hi!!! I just know Dave will love this! : D
Well Jade, it's your turn to write something. You two can venture forth against my trash first and try to fix it if you'd like.
Oh... I dunno Rose. I think I'd just ruin it
I'll fix it Rose! Don't worry!
Oh uh. That's really great Jade
: D I think that's how Dave and I would talk.
Well, I guess I'll add some stuff in too
Do we really need more mentions of trees?
I can take it out...
No no, it's fine
I'll add more stuff too! Should I add stuff to John's part?
... let's move on, shall we?
Last edited by Shadow of the Lotus; 07-30-2010 at 12:48 AM.
I'm honestly having a blast writing this stuff. I first write out the story for each character (aka, I wrote out all of John's part for his section before doing anything else) and then write out the characters talking to each other. I then go through and change things based on one character (only applicable really to the second one so far. Like, I did Jade's changes first). I'm going to take a break for dinner but should have part 3 up in 2 and a half hours or so.
Edit: Oh, and on John liking trees. Rose commented that she liked John's "simpler times" line in his section and John mistook it to mean "trees are really good writing devices." He is only a slight bit crest-fallen at Rose asking why they need so many tree references. He thought he was really getting this writing stuff down.
Okay, this place is just completely awesome. There are so many good fanfic writers here it's a bit overwhelming because each one of them is worth reading and oh god there's so many.
Also, more things: Housecaught P.4
With his father out of the way, there was nothing standing in between him and that sweet pile of birthday goodness that was... blocking the double doors that served as the entrance to his home from the other side, as evidenced by a cursory attempt at trying to open one. Why did nothing ever go right? No matter, it was a simply a matter of pushing it with all his mi- *gnn* ....fuck. There was no way in hell that door was moving with his meager strength. If only he were higher up the echeladder, perhaps a grand Medium Co-Theoriser, or even a lowly Junior Hypotheticathinker and he would have more then enough strength to open this thing. Sadly, he was but a mere Minuscule Smallthink, and lacked the required quantities of Mangrit to open the damn door.
There was only one thing to do: attempt to weaponize his sylladex to blow the bloody doors off. Currently it contained at least half a ton or so of random scrap metal, which was good, but his modus was.. well. He had the Wheel modus, which worked like one of those stupid prize wheels (getting it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and he was too lazy to switch). Basically, each card was a space on the wheel, and when an item was captchalogued, it was assigned a place on the modus according to a spin of the wheel (if it landed on an occupied space, it simply span again. Much shenanigans occurred before he found this option on the back) and when one wanted to withdraw a card, you simply span the wheel until you got what you wanted, or it landed on a special space. There were two of these, and most of the time they were bad news. First of these types was the â€œjackpotâ€, which ejected his entire sylladex at once. That was the bad, the worst was the skull symbol, which also ejected his entire sylladex, albeit aimed right at him.
The thing had this way of pulling a jackpot when he least needed it, with flashing lights and him flipping out, and as such he wasn't surprised when it took him ten minutes before he heard that annoyingly familiar fanfare and sent enough metal to seriously annoy a whole nursing home hurtling towards the door.It was so sad that he just remembered that he hadn't tried the other half of the double door.
....If anybody asked, he'd blame it on the mailman. The door was dislodged from it's hinges, and it was a simple matter to pull it off the pile of presents and leave it on the foyer floor (he noticed with much annoyance that there was nothing blocking the other door). But now it was time for... the presents! But he simply couldn't open them out here! It would leave such a mess, not to mention the chances of being caught with a bad case of dislocated door.
So he took all his presents (he had ample sylladex space, about twenty cards in all), and rushed off, taking the shorter outside path to his room. As he entered the long walkway/balcony thing that led both to the hallway to his room, and to the various gardens of his father at some rather odd pace that wasn't quite a run, but most certainly was not a jog, he was struck by the view.
It was, to put it simply, wonderful. Here he was, high above the rest of the city, the whole of the world lying beneath him, and it put him in a mood... to go on a soliloquy.
The streets are full. You hear the howl of the wind that moves through the city, bringing recourse to those trapped down on the sunbaked streets below. But that isn't important. He saw what was lying behind this beast of concrete and steel. It was the hum of electricity. It is said that power corrupts, and the beast that humanity called home had it flow through it's veins every day. But marvelously, it remained clean, untainted. Any evil that came there was no fault of it's own. No wilderness could bear the strain, no Elysium could shelter the man like it could and no arboreal paradise could let humanity be free. All this had a single source: power. Before humanity had harnessed the domain of Zeus, they were in the darkness, lit only by matches in the darkness of the universe, but now they saw the universe illuminated by lightning contained, and all of it was open to them, if they were willing to take it.
Today was his thirteenth birthday, and it was unlike all before it. The issues with the door aside, he felt a sense of triumph today, the spoils of his recent victory over the patriarch who had, until today, had a sometimes appreciable, but most often resented grip on his existence were merely the icing on the cake, the true prize being the assurance that he could triumph in a way reflecting his strength of mind.
The course of every intellectual, if he pursues his journey long and unflinchingly enough, ends in the obvious, from which the non-intellectuals have never stirred. ~Albert Einstein.
He was certain. 100 percent positive that he had said that.
He had a feeling that this was going to be a short, but enjoyable day.
Lotus: this is seriously the best thing you've ever written. I am dying over here.
â€œHello Hi Dave,â€ Jade let out softly yelled excitedly, â€œit would figure that the knight of time would keep to such strict measure. I'm really happy to see you!â€
^ had me choking on my drink. holy crap so much love for this.
Doc: I don't know how to communicate my thoughts coherently so let's just go YES YES YES HOLY FUCK YES ROUND ROBIN YES YES YES
And I'm just a little (read: really) in love with the Archane universe so if you don't mind, it will probably be far from the last time I borrow it!
re: backspace chisel: there's a really fine line between necessary and unnecessary deletion. If your inner editor gets all wrapped up in dissecting the quality, you'll be dipping into unnecessary deletion and you'll never get anything done. No inner editor, though, means that you don't do the necessary deletion to trim for quality, either! Most people recommend writing drafts without touching anything up, but really it's more about finding a good middle ground that doesn't end with you saying "fuck this I quit." And don't let the fact that you have to delete stuff get you discouraged either; I'm scrapping and rewriting probably 2/3 of an 8000 word fic. It happens!
re: separate thread. NOOOOO. Seconding nextian: AO3 you guys! If you don't have an account, go sign up for one! link is in my sig! GO GO GO GO GO. The waiting list is short to get an account and it's super easy to post your stuff. let's build up the Homestuck section! come on!
edit: NewMars! You snuck in there while I was writing. I'm deliberating a bit on this; on one hand, I like your heavy, plodding sort of prose-style, since it really does fit your character and it's starting to give him more depth. On the other hand, I'm having trouble reconciling it with all the gaming abstractions, like echeladders, launching sylladexes, etc. These are concepts that I feel are very tied into the comic proper as a gimmick that feel out of place in a story like this. Also, it's feeling a little formulaic, like it's leaning a little too heavily on Homestuck's structure. I'd love to see you branch out with new ideas that set your fic apart from it!