MSPA fan-fiction

[Tenebrais]

Since I'm kind of on a roll with In Which Twelve Trolls Ascend, I thought I'd post the next chapter right now.

This one's from the perspective of GA. The colour of the <== and ==> reflects the voice of the previous and next chapter, respectively.

<==

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carcinoGeneticist [CG] has entered #CARSONSCLUBHOUSE
mode (+o carcinoGeneticist [CG]) by ChanServ
GA: You Are Back
GA: What Did Your Guardian Want
CG: HE GAVE ME SBURB.
GA: What
CG: YEAH I DON'T GET IT EITHER.
CG: DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO TEACH ME SOME BULLSHIT LESSON.
GA: Thats Remarkably Out Of Character For Him
CG: YEAH I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON.
CG: BUT HE GAVE ME THIS GAME SO I GUESS I SHOULD START PLAYING IT.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed the chat topic to “ALRIGHT LET'S GET THIS GAME GOING”
GA: Okay
GA: My Sister Wont Come Back For A While Yet I Think
GA: So We Should Have Plenty Of Time

This was all coming as quite a surprise to me. I'd got the game days ago. The priest that Carson lived with would never have allowed him to sign up for the beta, and Adam was (hah) adamant that he wouldn't stoop so low as to play a game with his friends. Targe apparently got the game last night, but he already found someone to play with. I must have evaded misfortune there; I couldn't stand to listen to his self-absorbed chatter for so long.
The only reason I was on the computer at all was that my sister was out and I wouldn't be able to do so when she returned. It had long got to the point that it wasn't even a question of whether she'd bring someone home with her any more. And when she did, I would have to make myself scarce.

Unfortunately, Sburb wasn't packaged with a manual. It was a beta, after all. I plugged the game in, and was presented with a box of text that I did not quite understand. I would have to seek assistance.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA]
GA: Targe I Need Your Help
TA: now there2 a 2urprii2e.
TA: ii dont know what youd do wiithout me.
TA: probably end up lo2t iin the fore2t
TA: no way two get home
TA: wiithout my iincrediible iintellect
TA: guiidiing your he2iitant footfall2.
TA: 2o what do you want?
GA: Firstly I Live Nowhere Near A Forest
GA: And Secondly
TA: my poiint 2tiill 2tand2.
GA: I Need You To Help Me Connect With Sburb
TA: oh ii 2ee you found 2omeone two play wiith.
TA: how 2weet.
TA: okay what you do ii2
TA: fiind out her IIP addre22
GA: His
TA: hii2?
TA: liie2.
TA: you are a liiar.
TA: you would never 2peak two a boy.
TA: you couldnt pluck up the courage.
TA: except for me of cour2e.
TA: becau2e ii am ju2t that 2pecial two you.
GA: Can You Just Finish Telling Me What To Do
TA: well you take “hii2” IIP addre22
TA: (heh heh)
TA: you go two the 2burb iinterface
TA: and type
TA: Connect xxx.xxx.xxx.xx.xx
TA: wiith “hii2” number2 iin2tead of the x'2
TA: ii dont tru2t you not two make that mii2take
GA: Okay
GA: Thank You
GA: I Think

GA: Whats Your IIP Address
CG: MY WHAT?
GA: Your IIP Address
GA: Apparently I Need It To Connect To You
CG: DO YOU MEAN MY IP ADDRESS?
GA: I Might Do
GA: The Boy Who Told Me This Was Not Clear On The Matter
GA: And Possibly A Little Too Talkative
CG: OKAY HOLD ON LET ME LOOK IT UP.
CG: IT'S 133.4F5.97A.25.12
GA: Thank You

I followed Targe's instructions and successfully connected to Carson. Unusual that I would get it right on the first try, but that may be because the command didn't have an “I” in it. After the obligatory loading screen with some unusual music (certainly no piece I had ever heard before), I was presented with a screen showing what must be Carson's room.

The game had begun.


GA: I Dont Really Know What Im Doing Here
carcinoGeneticist holds his head in his hands.

==>

[Eco-Mono]

Since I'm kind of on a roll with In Which Twelve Trolls Ascend, I thought I'd post the next chapter right now.

This one's from the perspective of GA. The colour of the <== and ==> reflects the voice of the previous and next chapter, respectively.

<==

show spoiler

hide spoiler

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has entered #CARSONSCLUBHOUSE
mode (+o carcinoGeneticist [CG]) by ChanServ
GA: You Are Back
GA: What Did Your Guardian Want
CG: HE GAVE ME SBURB.
GA: What
CG: YEAH I DON'T GET IT EITHER.
CG: DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO TEACH ME SOME BULLSHIT LESSON.
GA: Thats Remarkably Out Of Character For Him
CG: YEAH I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON.
CG: BUT HE GAVE ME THIS GAME SO I GUESS I SHOULD START PLAYING IT.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed the chat topic to “ALRIGHT LET'S GET THIS GAME GOING”
GA: Okay
GA: My Sister Wont Come Back For A While Yet I Think
GA: So We Should Have Plenty Of Time

This was all coming as quite a surprise to me. I'd got the game days ago. The priest that Carson lived with would never have allowed him to sign up for the beta, and Adam was (hah) adamant that he wouldn't stoop so low as to play a game with his friends. Targe apparently got the game last night, but he already found someone to play with. I must have evaded misfortune there; I couldn't stand to listen to his self-absorbed chatter for so long.
The only reason I was on the computer at all was that my sister was out and I wouldn't be able to do so when she returned. It had long got to the point that it wasn't even a question of whether she'd bring someone home with her any more. And when she did, I would have to make myself scarce.

Unfortunately, Sburb wasn't packaged with a manual. It was a beta, after all. I plugged the game in, and was presented with a box of text that I did not quite understand. I would have to seek assistance.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA]
GA: Targe I Need Your Help
TA: now there2 a 2urprii2e.
TA: ii dont know what youd do wiithout me.
TA: probably end up lo2t iin the fore2t
TA: no way two get home
TA: wiithout my iincrediible iintellect
TA: guiidiing your he2iitant footfall2.
TA: 2o what do you want?
GA: Firstly I Live Nowhere Near A Forest
GA: And Secondly
TA: my poiint 2tiill 2tand2.
GA: I Need You To Help Me Connect With Sburb
TA: oh ii 2ee you found 2omeone two play wiith.
TA: how 2weet.
TA: okay what you do ii2
TA: fiind out her IIP addre22
GA: His
TA: hii2?
TA: liie2.
TA: you are a liiar.
TA: you would never 2peak two a boy.
TA: you couldnt pluck up the courage.
TA: except for me of cour2e.
TA: becau2e ii am ju2t that 2pecial two you.
GA: Can You Just Finish Telling Me What To Do
TA: well you take “hii2” IIP addre22
TA: (heh heh)
TA: you go two the 2burb iinterface
TA: and type
TA: Connect xxx.xxx.xxx.xx.xx
TA: wiith “hii2” number2 iin2tead of the x'2
TA: ii dont tru2t you not two make that mii2take
GA: Okay
GA: Thank You
GA: I Think

GA: Whats Your IIP Address
CG: MY WHAT?
GA: Your IIP Address
GA: Apparently I Need It To Connect To You
CG: DO YOU MEAN MY IP ADDRESS?
GA: I Might Do
GA: The Boy Who Told Me This Was Not Clear On The Matter
GA: And Possibly A Little Too Talkative
CG: OKAY HOLD ON LET ME LOOK IT UP.
CG: IT'S 133.4F5.97A.25.12
GA: Thank You

I followed Targe's instructions and successfully connected to Carson. Unusual that I would get it right on the first try, but that may be because the command didn't have an “I” in it. After the obligatory loading screen with some unusual music (certainly no piece I had ever heard before), I was presented with a screen showing what must be Carson's room.

The game had begun.


GA: I Dont Really Know What Im Doing Here
carcinoGeneticist holds his head in his hands.

I have most definitely begun to stalk this series, for the record.

[I-gor]

Tenebrais, that may just beat House Party. And it was going to have animations too?

And to everyone else-sorry I couldn't be more specific (or indeed punctual) but you all are awesome. Seriously.

[DocBeard]

Bit later than I'd like, but this was inspired by all of the speculation on Rose going mad or not. I call it

The Tale of Arachne (Part 1)

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The Dersian alleyway smelled like sour milk, sweat, and the old brandy John Egbert's father would take out on the anniversary of Nanna's death and sip, slowly. A sort of smothering sweetness that had more to do with rot than anything; once upon a time, John thought to himself, his friend Rose Lalonde would have appreciated that little visual. Or at least he liked to think so, though not too often, as that brought John back to an unfortunate truth he had realized all too late.

But all hard truths must be confronted, and as John used the bladed tip of his hammer to gently saw through the strange, silky material hanging off of the side of the alley, he was cornered by reality. Thread split, sour acid boiled in Egbert's throat and he touched the mottled black carapace. There it was, in black and fluorescent blue; John might never have known the real Rose Lalonde at all. It took a few precious moments to realize how to close the eyes of the carapace, but the other option was too hard to swallow right now. The Reckoning was bad enough, and John refused to cede any more of his humanity to sburb if he could at all prevent it, wasted time or no.

You're stalling, Egbert. John wondered when his conscience started sounding like the Wandering Vagrant, adjusting his tie and stepping further into the inky hollow the alley led into. Faint traces of ectoplasmic activity were like a trail of radioactive breadcrumbs to John's upgraded goggles; the red and blue lights were indicative of the psychic trauma most commonly associated with sudden, terrible violence. Fear, pain, hate, desperation, all in a strange spiral that indicated....John shuddered at the faint, cool sensation on the back of his neck; he lunged forward, ducking his head and rolling as best as he could in these cramped conditions. The gleaming silk snapped straight like razor wire, close enough to capturing John that he felt phantom pains on his neck. Touching the side of his glasses, Egbert kicked up onto the side of the alley lair, flipping around just before a needle embedded itself into the solid rock; John pulled his body around, leading with his hammer, and smashing into a garbage can like he was playing some kind of crazy trash polo. The can flew, the cheap Derse tin splitting under the pressure of John's enchanted hammer a second after it hit the air, sending a scattershot of refuse all along the opposite alley wall.

The silvery blue color he could only see out of the corner of his eye ripped, and if the situation were not what it was, John would probably be busting out some kind of juvenile victory dance right about now. That damn witch thread had been foiling his most sensitive ectobiological equipment for weeks, now, and his hunch about the subject retaining some of her squeamishness with personal hygene was…

“What.” Rose Lalonde murmured, shoving the old gushers wrappers and silky yarn out of her hair, “No victory dance?”

There's knowing something abstractly, and there's seeing something with your own eyes. The worst part, John felt as he fell to one knee as though struck, was how much she looked like…herself. No bloody stigmata, no unholy sigils, no third eye, just some redness from not sleeping. Be strong, John ordered himself, ask what you want to know, buy time, she's just waiting for you to blink. “…Rose…” John said instead; years of experience or no, he had the same bad habit of ignoring his better judgment, “…Rose, it doesn't have to be this way. We can get you help…”

“We?” Rose raised a slender eyebrow, crossing her arms as if assuming the superior position in one of their old conversations. The quiet triumph in her expression was a kick to whatever was left of John's guts that had not been numbed already.

“Fine,” John relented, “I can get you help. You know something's wrong, or you wouldn't have let me get this close…”

Egbert's point, though he felt it was a good one and had in fact dedicated the better part of a week to carefully crafting this last plea, was severely undermined by the six inches of razor sharp knitting needle suddenly sticking out of his shoulder.

“Don't you.” Rose hissed, tugging the yarn and John towards her, his face and her left knee if we need to get specific, “Patronize ME,” Her eyes were furious now, hard and sure and John barely got his ghost glove activated in time to block the second needle to the throat, “John Egbert!” Rose moved like poetry, twisting to the left and flicking her wrist, causing the supernaturally strong yarn to snap and John Egbert to spin like a top through a weak wall of cheap plywood.

Not one of his better speeches, all and all. Groaning, John checked the data, smiling a little at Plan B's progress. It made the whole ‘your oldest friend is trying to gut you with flashy versions of the needles you got her for her birthday' deal easier to parse, and John was nearly ready for Rose's next attack. Or, to be more honest about it, he jumped up to his feet, saw Rose, and was kicked in the face by the roundhouse Lalonde had prepared for when he recovered. Stumbling back, John kept his footing and shoved his fist forward, a ghostly green hand shimmering into existence and shoving Rose away from the ruined building. The angry bobcat's yelp from the alley told John that, no, Rose did not see his using the ghost gloves on her as being any less patronizing as trying to talk her out of this.

Dave would have something great to say about that, John thought, tapping his glasses again and running deeper into Derse's core. On his ecto scanner, John saw what he was looking for, flashes of red and green. Triumph surged in his chest(or possibly it was his being out of breath) as John finally broke through Rose's ecto-obsfucation. He could do this!, John said to himself as he turned a corner and ran right into Rose's gleaming yarn web; a snare wrapped around his leg, tugging him up, as the rest of the net wrapped around him, weights moving delicately to force John's weight in unnatural directions.

“…I knew you'd be good at this.” John bluffed, closing his eyes and letting a breath out. Soft warmth brushed against his cheek and for a second, Egbert thought about all of the horrible things that could make their home in the nightmare planet's worst neighborhood.

“You always were sharper than any of us gave you credit for.” Rose's voice had a new dimension to it, and for some reason John felt the back of his neck heat up. “…and…as always…too late to make a difference. I knew all I had to do, John, was just enough to make you think you could “save” me, and in you'd rush, all alone, with no plan or second thought towards what you would do when you arrived.”

“…could…enjoy this…less…” John managed through the makeshift gag Rose had spun around his mouth, struggling as best he could against the arcane fibers.

“What can I say.” Rose smiled, a little, and for the first time in over a year she looked like herself again. “I've always had a weakness for the thought of you at my mercy, Egbert.” There was a spark of purple fire in her eyes, or maybe John just imagined it, because a second later they were cold and black again. “Yes. Yes, I understand. The Gods have been patient enough. It is time.”

Rose motioned with one of her wand-needles, while the other continued to knit John's cocoon. More invisible silk parted, and John's stomach turned at the two complete cocoons inside of the alcove Rose must have carved out herself, or at least decorated with the likenesses of her three patrons. One was highlighted red, the other green, festive compliments to his own blue-white tomb. Poop, John thought to himself, a sure sign of his new post-reckoning maturity and seriousness towards his duties as a boy skylark and doer of good deeds. Double poop!

Hopefully I should have the second part up in a couple days.

[resdaMalos]

HOLY CRAP WHY HAS NO ONE PRAISED DOC'S WORK YET

[Raccoon]

Snow Day: Suspicious Snowman

I think my writing is improving!
Warnings: Slight shipping! (which is now incest shipping ) Also swears since its Dave.[/spoiler]

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"Rose I think you may be taking this odd mentality stuff too far again..." John muttered to Rose them both exchanging glances between the odd snow sculpture and each other.
"John, did you even see what he built!" Rose motioned with both her hands with a scowl on her face.
"Oohhh he built a snowman! It's an odd shape though!" Jade perked up. She had recently fallen asleep in the middle of a snowball fight and had promptly been left to doze while they built snow figures.
"Sup guys?” Dave appeared from behind his sculpture patting the last few details into places.
"Oh it's just the person I was waiting for!" Rose shot in Dave's direction.
"What've I done now to get all up in your grill Rose?" Dave calmly muttered towards Rose, eyes hidden behind thick black snow goggles.
"He only built a snowman Rose? I honestly don't see what's wrong with it!” Jade squeaked innocently rubbing her eyes.
"Err Jade I'll explain what's wrong with it in a moment..."John muttered while grabbing Jade trying to draw her attention away.
"Oh yes Dave why don't you explain what you built to poor innocent Jade?" John quickly looked at Rose a look of horror on his face.
"Well it's clearly my co-" Dave started to say.
"COLD SCULPTURE JADE YEAH THAT'S IT! It's cold..." John quickly interrupted Dave before he could finish his sentence.
"John maybe it would be best for you to take Jade away for a bit? I have some notes to take down." Rose stumbled upon the last sentence her hand exploring her satchel for her many notebooks which were buried between piles of yarn and knitting needles.
"About what?" Dave asked.
"Your giant snow phallus clearly!" Rose snapped back Dave looked clearly shook by her mood now.
"What's a flail-less?" Jade said innocently interrupting Roses little speech.
"Ermm lets go make some hot chocolate now Jade! Look I've even bought marshmallows!" John changed the subject quickly; Jade in one hand a bag of 'Tangle-buddy' marshmallows in the other.
"YIPPEE!" she shouted clapping her hands and nearly knocking John over.
"What is your problem Dave? We leave you for 5 minutes and you cause a mockery of yourself in front of all of us? I thought this would be a fun day but it turns out you just wanted to show off your assets!" Rose started the moment she was sure Jades innocent ears were out of earshot
"You know you're all about the snow cock Rose." Dave replied coolly shrugging off Rose's argument.
"At times you are such an ignorant. Sexist. Insufferable prick, you know that?" Rose shouted at Dave, her face slowly turning a brighter shade then Dave's hair.
"Just gotta roll as it comes babe" Dave answered back with a smirk across his face.
Rose's eye twitched rather violently at this last sentence and she quickly had to get away from him as quickly as possible before her conveniently placed knitting needles found a new home between Dave's left and right temple.
Of course she did not leave him without getting one over him so she quickly jabbed his snow phallus repeatedly in succession filling it with many holes. She then promptly kicked it right in the middle where it shattered into a pile of snow and assorted ice shards before walking inside.
Dave had realised that he may have quite possibly just pissed off his strongest nemesis to the point of murder and he certainly slept with one eye open that night.

Shall I continue with a sequel? and also all the work on the page behind me is far too good.

[Solaris]

Wait,

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John was cocooned by Rose?

Can't wait for more though.

@Racoon.....Dave... did WHAT? That insufferable prick

[Tenebrais]

Bit later than I'd like, but this was inspired by all of the speculation on Rose going mad or not. I call it

The Tale of Arachne (Part 1)

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The Dersian alleyway smelled like sour milk, sweat, and the old brandy John Egbert's father would take out on the anniversary of Nanna's death and sip, slowly. A sort of smothering sweetness that had more to do with rot than anything; once upon a time, John thought to himself, his friend Rose Lalonde would have appreciated that little visual. Or at least he liked to think so, though not too often, as that brought John back to an unfortunate truth he had realized all too late.

But all hard truths must be confronted, and as John used the bladed tip of his hammer to gently saw through the strange, silky material hanging off of the side of the alley, he was cornered by reality. Thread split, sour acid boiled in Egbert's throat and he touched the mottled black carapace. There it was, in black and fluorescent blue; John might never have known the real Rose Lalonde at all. It took a few precious moments to realize how to close the eyes of the carapace, but the other option was too hard to swallow right now. The Reckoning was bad enough, and John refused to cede any more of his humanity to sburb if he could at all prevent it, wasted time or no.

You're stalling, Egbert. John wondered when his conscience started sounding like the Wandering Vagrant, adjusting his tie and stepping further into the inky hollow the alley led into. Faint traces of ectoplasmic activity were like a trail of radioactive breadcrumbs to John's upgraded goggles; the red and blue lights were indicative of the psychic trauma most commonly associated with sudden, terrible violence. Fear, pain, hate, desperation, all in a strange spiral that indicated....John shuddered at the faint, cool sensation on the back of his neck; he lunged forward, ducking his head and rolling as best as he could in these cramped conditions. The gleaming silk snapped straight like razor wire, close enough to capturing John that he felt phantom pains on his neck. Touching the side of his glasses, Egbert kicked up onto the side of the alley lair, flipping around just before a needle embedded itself into the solid rock; John pulled his body around, leading with his hammer, and smashing into a garbage can like he was playing some kind of crazy trash polo. The can flew, the cheap Derse tin splitting under the pressure of John's enchanted hammer a second after it hit the air, sending a scattershot of refuse all along the opposite alley wall.

The silvery blue color he could only see out of the corner of his eye ripped, and if the situation were not what it was, John would probably be busting out some kind of juvenile victory dance right about now. That damn witch thread had been foiling his most sensitive ectobiological equipment for weeks, now, and his hunch about the subject retaining some of her squeamishness with personal hygene was…

“What.” Rose Lalonde murmured, shoving the old gushers wrappers and silky yarn out of her hair, “No victory dance?”

There's knowing something abstractly, and there's seeing something with your own eyes. The worst part, John felt as he fell to one knee as though struck, was how much she looked like…herself. No bloody stigmata, no unholy sigils, no third eye, just some redness from not sleeping. Be strong, John ordered himself, ask what you want to know, buy time, she's just waiting for you to blink. “…Rose…” John said instead; years of experience or no, he had the same bad habit of ignoring his better judgment, “…Rose, it doesn't have to be this way. We can get you help…”

“We?” Rose raised a slender eyebrow, crossing her arms as if assuming the superior position in one of their old conversations. The quiet triumph in her expression was a kick to whatever was left of John's guts that had not been numbed already.

“Fine,” John relented, “I can get you help. You know something's wrong, or you wouldn't have let me get this close…”

Egbert's point, though he felt it was a good one and had in fact dedicated the better part of a week to carefully crafting this last plea, was severely undermined by the six inches of razor sharp knitting needle suddenly sticking out of his shoulder.

“Don't you.” Rose hissed, tugging the yarn and John towards her, his face and her left knee if we need to get specific, “Patronize ME,” Her eyes were furious now, hard and sure and John barely got his ghost glove activated in time to block the second needle to the throat, “John Egbert!” Rose moved like poetry, twisting to the left and flicking her wrist, causing the supernaturally strong yarn to snap and John Egbert to spin like a top through a weak wall of cheap plywood.

Not one of his better speeches, all and all. Groaning, John checked the data, smiling a little at Plan B's progress. It made the whole ‘your oldest friend is trying to gut you with flashy versions of the needles you got her for her birthday' deal easier to parse, and John was nearly ready for Rose's next attack. Or, to be more honest about it, he jumped up to his feet, saw Rose, and was kicked in the face by the roundhouse Lalonde had prepared for when he recovered. Stumbling back, John kept his footing and shoved his fist forward, a ghostly green hand shimmering into existence and shoving Rose away from the ruined building. The angry bobcat's yelp from the alley told John that, no, Rose did not see his using the ghost gloves on her as being any less patronizing as trying to talk her out of this.

Dave would have something great to say about that, John thought, tapping his glasses again and running deeper into Derse's core. On his ecto scanner, John saw what he was looking for, flashes of red and green. Triumph surged in his chest(or possibly it was his being out of breath) as John finally broke through Rose's ecto-obsfucation. He could do this!, John said to himself as he turned a corner and ran right into Rose's gleaming yarn web; a snare wrapped around his leg, tugging him up, as the rest of the net wrapped around him, weights moving delicately to force John's weight in unnatural directions.

“…I knew you'd be good at this.” John bluffed, closing his eyes and letting a breath out. Soft warmth brushed against his cheek and for a second, Egbert thought about all of the horrible things that could make their home in the nightmare planet's worst neighborhood.

“You always were sharper than any of us gave you credit for.” Rose's voice had a new dimension to it, and for some reason John felt the back of his neck heat up. “…and…as always…too late to make a difference. I knew all I had to do, John, was just enough to make you think you could “save” me, and in you'd rush, all alone, with no plan or second thought towards what you would do when you arrived.”

“…could…enjoy this…less…” John managed through the makeshift gag Rose had spun around his mouth, struggling as best he could against the arcane fibers.

“What can I say.” Rose smiled, a little, and for the first time in over a year she looked like herself again. “I've always had a weakness for the thought of you at my mercy, Egbert.” There was a spark of purple fire in her eyes, or maybe John just imagined it, because a second later they were cold and black again. “Yes. Yes, I understand. The Gods have been patient enough. It is time.”

Rose motioned with one of her wand-needles, while the other continued to knit John's cocoon. More invisible silk parted, and John's stomach turned at the two complete cocoons inside of the alcove Rose must have carved out herself, or at least decorated with the likenesses of her three patrons. One was highlighted red, the other green, festive compliments to his own blue-white tomb. Poop, John thought to himself, a sure sign of his new post-reckoning maturity and seriousness towards his duties as a boy skylark and doer of good deeds. Double poop!

Hopefully I should have the second part up in a couple days.

Finally got the chance to read this. Thrilling! I can't wait for more.

[PaulPower]

A bit of silly pesterlog fanfic for what might go down at the start of Act 5 6:

> John: Pester Dave

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EB: hey dave!
TG: hey
EB: how's it going?
TG: oh just fine
TG: dudes in sharp suits offing me cold-bloodedly to get some stupid tome of caterwauling
TG: flying basilisks
TG: and now my own fucking crocodile npc allies wanting to know what i taste like
EB: owch!
TG: remind me why i installed this game again
TG: getting hit with a fucking meteor would be better than some of this shit
TG: at least itd be quick and painless
EB: well, look at it this way.
EB: if you hadn't decided to play the game, we'd all be dead.
EB: rose would have died when her meteor hit, i'd've blundered straight into a denizen without other dave's time shenanigans, and then jade would have no-one to save her either.
EB: and it's a bit complicated, but i think none of us would have ever been born!
EB: so we owe you big time.
TG: huh
TG: didn't think of it like that
TG: so howre you ever going to repay me
EB: hehehe!
EB: well i got a present for you.
TG: oh god
TG: its not a little dirty is it
TG: a little rough around the edges
TG: just like my dear old ex con dad with a heart of gold
EB: hehehe not this time.
EB: it's kinda broken in half but i hear you like your swords like that.
EB: MYSTERIOUS WINK ;)
TG: whoa howd you get a 1/2blade
EB: shenanigans.
TG: ok
EB: it might be a while before i can get it to you, i've got to get jade into the medium first and your planet's kind of opposite mine in the gate cycle thing so there's no quick route there.
EB: but yeah, that filthy wife beater hug bump's on my to-do list.
TG: be still my beating heart

> John: Pester Rose

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EB: hey rose!
TT: Oh. Hello.
TT: Long time no see.
EB: yeah, i'm really sorry about just missing you like that.
TT: Yes, I was rather looking forward to meeting up with you.
EB: but i think if i hadn't headed off when i did, we wouldn't have been born or something!
TT: What?
EB: it's a long story.
EB: i'll tell you more later, but for now let's just say "wave of ectobiological paradox clone babies".
TT: Really? Intriguing.
EB: so yeah, how are things with you?
TT: Currently?
TT: Currently I am trying to break this impossible game down into a myriad grains of sand, sifting through them in a quest for answers.
EB: oh, okay, that sounds like fun.
EB: i think we've got less than 24 hours to beat the game now, so a bit more game breaking probably isn't a bad idea.
EB: one thing though, maybe you shouldn't be working on it alone?
EB: we could get a lot more done if we worked together on this.
EB: and i dunno if it's healthy for you to go off on your own and not involve dave, jade and me.
TT: Hmm.
TT: You have a point.
TT: I will admit that if I was psychoanalysing myself at this point that there would be numerous causes for concern.
TT: I would say that my current attitude is justified, but I will concede that it could be more constructive.
TT: What do you suggest?
EB: well i don't know yet.
EB: but i do want to drop in on you in the near future.
EB: you know, make up for us just missing each other earlier.
EB: i've got a present to deliver anyway.
TT: Really?
TT: I thought it was your birthday, not mine.
TT: Well, I don't even know if it is your birthday any more.
TT: One loses track of time after a while.
EB: well in a funny sort of way it is all our birthdays!
TT: Pardon?
EB: "wave of ectobiological paradox clone babies"
TT: O-kay...
EB: anyway, gotta go now.
EB: i really need to check up on jade and make sure she's all right!

> John: Pester Jade

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EB: hey jade!
EB: jade, are you all right?
EB: jade?
GG: ... oooooh..... hi john....
GG: not too bad.... the squiddles kinda broke my fall!!!
EB: your fall?
GG: yeah..... about a hundred feet from my bedroom ._.
GG: but what happened to you john?? did you wake up okay???
EB: ...
EB: yeah, i guess i did.
EB: thanks for the present, it helped a lot!
EB: and then my dad showed up out of nowhere and hit me in the face with a cake but it was just awesome to see him so i didn't mind.
EB: but... oh, damn, jade, i don't know what to say!
EB: "sorry i didn't wake up sooner" doesn't really seem to cut it when...
GG: john its okay!!
GG: its my own fault for not realising why you looked so sad when you were reading my letter >_>
GG: or for not telling you about all this sooner
EB: but...
EB: your dreamself...
EB: all those things we were going to do together...
GG: john........
GG: im going to miss dreaming and i really wish i could have spent time dreaming with you
GG: and when it sinks in im probably going to be very sad D:
GG: but the trolls have also lost their dreamselves!!
GG: and they still seem to think lifes worth living!!!
EB: i guess.
GG: what matters now is that your dreamself is okay
EB: yeah, he's gonna have to pull double shifts now, isn't he?
GG: john you're going to be the best dreamself ever i just know it!!!!
GG: i believe in you
EB: yeah your pen-friend said you did.
EB: he seems a pretty cool guy.
EB: man weekend at bernie's was awesome.
GG: <3 ...
EB: thanks jade.
EB: i'm going to make this up to you, i promise.
EB: we need to get you into the medium first, though.
GG: that sounds like a plan!!!
EB: right now i'm rocketpacking back to lowas.
EB: according to this cloud vision thing i had the server copy's going to waft straight into my hand or something.
EB: pretty convenient, really.
EB: then I guess it's back to my house.
EB: how much time do we have? can you see your meteor?
GG: yeah its huge!!!
GG: but...
GG: i dont know if its huge and very close or a bit further away and really really really huge
EB: ok i'll be as quick as i can.
EB: hang in there, sis.
GG: sis?!?
EB: yeah, dunno if you've had any visions about it, but it turns out i'm technically your brother or something.
EB: it's a bit crazy i guess but pretty sweet too.
GG: !!!
GG: wow.....
GG: good luck... bro! <3

[resdaMalos]

@PaulPower: Finally John gets his butt in GEAR. Here's hoping you're not too far off the mark, huh?

NINJA EDIT:Great work so far, everyone!

On my end I've hit a BIG ol' dump ass writer's block. This is an attempt to shake it off.

In a land of heat and clockwork, several miles below a gate, a door opens with a crack.

An outrageously awesome dude steps into a room that used to be a part of his apartment.

Now it's dangling precariously atop four steel supports, but he is far too awesome to care about that.

The room's occupant is busy upstairs, a few hundred or so flights up. The dude reaches for a light switch, but retracts his hand, realizing that the red-hot lava below was providing enough illumination to see.

His eyes flick to the walls, where two horribly artifacted drawings glow brightly.

His perpetual facade of coolness drops for naught but a split second.

"Fuck," he says. "Dave still remembers."

Several years ago, but not many...

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A dilapidated tenement stands, three of its occupants lounging about. A thin cloud of oddly-scented smoke makes ribbons of light shine down through the broken windows onto the dusty floor.

"Hey..." the goateed man says from the kitchen, his voice light. "Jeff. JEFF. Check this out."

Another young man, wearing a blue sweater, turns his head. "What's up, bro?"

"Check it out. Today... I put JELLY on this hot dog." Bro's faux-serious face breaks up into faded giggling.

"Just how HIGH do you even have to BE just to do something like that?" Jeff laughs uncontrollably, obviously just as stoned.

"Dude, let me try some of that shit." A third, African-American male speaks up from the armchair in the far corner. "Bet it's fuckin' delicious."

"Geromy, you... you're a fuckin... you're a dumb ass," Jeff weakly retorts, as Geromy gets up out of the chair. But before anyone can say anything else, the front door opens.

"Hey, man, where have you been?" Jeff says slowly, acknowledging the young man who had just walked in.

He immediately takes off his hat, trying to fan away the smell of weed. "Christ, you're all high again," he replies, not dignifying Jeff with a response. "Open the fucking windows!"

"Want a hit?" Geromy offers him a rolled up piece of paper and a lighter.

"No, man, I'm serious." With great speed, the young man dashes for the windows and began throwing them open.

"Strider, why you lettin' the good stuff out?" Bro began to whine, not lifting a finger to stop him. "You know how bad the air is in this city."

"Better than anything you guys have been smoking," he replies. "Besides. There's something I have to talk to you guys about." He takes a step outside and hefts a small bundle into his arms. It obviously doesn't weigh a whole lot, yet he treats it with the utmost delicacy.

Strider's three room mates get up to look at this new arrival. "H-holy fuck, dude," Bro stammers out, apparently still coherent enough to process what he had just made take place. "That's a fuckin' baby!"

True enough, in young Strider's arms was a red-headed child, sleeping soundly.

"That kid looks just like you, man!" Jeff giggles. "Are... are those little anime shades?"

"He's like some freaky paradox clone baby or some shit," Geromy observes. The pair begin to collapse with laughter.

Bro, meanwhile, continues to flip out. "Strider! Why the fuck do you have a baby? Jesus, who's the mom? Did you just up and pick him up off the street?"

"No, listen. You're not going to believe me but... he fell out of the sky."

ugh crappy sorry

[resdaMalos]

EDIT: AUGH DOUBLE POSTWhat double post?

[Tenebrais]

A bit of silly pesterlog fanfic for what might go down at the start of Act 5:

> John: Pester Dave

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EB: hey dave!
TG: hey
EB: how's it going?
TG: oh just fine
TG: dudes in sharp suits offing me cold-bloodedly to get some stupid tome of caterwauling
TG: flying basilisks
TG: and now my own fucking crocodile npc allies wanting to know what i taste like
EB: owch!
TG: remind me why i installed this game again
TG: getting hit with a fucking meteor would be better than some of this shit
TG: at least itd be quick and painless
EB: well, look at it this way.
EB: if you hadn't decided to play the game, we'd all be dead.
EB: rose would have died when her meteor hit, i'd've blundered straight into a denizen without other dave's time shenanigans, and then jade would have no-one to save her either.
EB: and it's a bit complicated, but i think none of us would have ever been born!
EB: so we owe you big time.
TG: huh
TG: didn't think of it like that
TG: so howre you ever going to repay me
EB: hehehe!
EB: well i got a present for you.
TG: oh god
TG: its not a little dirty is it
TG: a little rough around the edges
TG: just like my dear old ex con dad with a heart of gold
EB: hehehe not this time.
EB: it's kinda broken in half but i hear you like your swords like that.
EB: MYSTERIOUS WINK
TG: whoa howd you get a 1/2blade
EB: shenanigans.
TG: ok
EB: it might be a while before i can get it to you, i've got to get jade into the medium first and your planet's kind of opposite mine in the gate cycle thing so there's no quick route there.
EB: but yeah, that filthy wife beater hug bump's on my to-do list.
TG: be still my beating heart

> John: Pester Rose

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EB: hey rose!
TT: Oh. Hello.
TT: Long time no see.
EB: yeah, i'm really sorry about just missing you like that.
TT: Yes, I was rather looking forward to meeting up with you.
EB: but i think if i hadn't headed off when i did, we wouldn't have been born or something!
TT: What?
EB: it's a long story.
EB: i'll tell you more later, but for now let's just say "wave of ectobiological paradox clone babies".
TT: Really? Intriguing.
EB: so yeah, how are things with you?
TT: Currently?
TT: Currently I am trying to break this impossible game down into a myriad grains of sand, sifting through them in a quest for answers.
EB: oh, okay, that sounds like fun.
EB: i think we've got less than 24 hours to beat the game now, so a bit more game breaking probably isn't a bad idea.
EB: one thing though, maybe you shouldn't be working on it alone?
EB: we could get a lot more done if we worked together on this.
EB: and i dunno if it's healthy for you to go off on your own and not involve dave, jade and me.
TT: Hmm.
TT: You have a point.
TT: I will admit that if I was psychoanalysing myself at this point that there would be numerous causes for concern.
TT: I would say that my current attitude is justified, but I will concede that it could be more constructive.
TT: What do you suggest?
EB: well i don't know yet.
EB: but i do want to drop in on you in the near future.
EB: you know, make up for us just missing each other earlier.
EB: i've got a present to deliver anyway.
TT: Really?
TT: I thought it was your birthday, not mine.
TT: Well, I don't even know if it is your birthday any more.
TT: One loses track of time after a while.
EB: well in a funny sort of way it is all our birthdays!
TT: Pardon?
EB: "wave of ectobiological paradox clone babies"
TT: O-kay...
EB: anyway, gotta go now.
EB: i really need to check up on jade and make sure she's all right!

> John: Pester Jade

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EB: hey jade!
EB: jade, are you all right?
EB: jade?
GG: ... oooooh..... hi john....
GG: not too bad.... the squiddles kinda broke my fall!!!
EB: your fall?
GG: yeah..... about a hundred feet from my bedroom ._.
GG: but what happened to you john?? did you wake up okay???
EB: ...
EB: yeah, i guess i did.
EB: thanks for the present, it helped a lot!
EB: and then my dad showed up out of nowhere and hit me in the face with a cake but it was just awesome to see him so i didn't mind.
EB: but... oh, damn, Jade, i don't know what to say!
EB: "sorry i didn't wake up sooner" doesn't really seem to cut it when...
GG: john its okay!!
GG: its my own fault for not realising why you looked so sad when you were reading my letter >_>
GG: or for not telling you about all this sooner
EB: but...
EB: your dreamself...
EB: all those things we were going to do together...
GG: john........
GG: im going to miss dreaming and i really wish i could have spent time dreaming with you
GG: and when it sinks in im probably going to be very sad
GG: but the trolls have also lost their dreamselves!!
GG: and they still seem to think lifes worth living!!!
EB: i guess.
GG: what matters now is that your dreamself is okay
EB: yeah, he's gonna have to pull double shifts now, isn't he?
GG: john you're going to be the best dreamself ever i just know it!!!!
GG: i believe in you
EB: yeah your pen-friend said you did.
EB: he seems a pretty cool guy.
EB: man weekend at bernie's was awesome.
GG: ...
EB: thanks jade.
EB: i'm going to make this up to you, i promise.
EB: we need to get you into the medium first, though.
GG: that sounds like a plan!!!
EB: right now i'm rocketpacking back to lowas.
EB: according to this cloud vision thing i had the server copy's going to waft straight into my hand or something.
EB: pretty convenient, really.
EB: then I guess it's back to my house.
EB: how much time do we have? can you see your meteor?
GG: yeah its huge!!!
GG: but...
GG: i dont know if its huge and very close or a bit further away and really really really huge
EB: ok i'll be as quick as i can.
EB: hang in there, sis.
GG: sis?!?
EB: yeah, dunno if you've had any visions about it, but it turns out i'm technically your brother or something.
EB: it's a bit crazy i guess but pretty sweet too.
GG: !!!
GG: wow.....
GG: good luck... bro!

These are good! I can imagine Act 5 starting this way.

[HelloMoto]

A bit of silly pesterlog fanfic for what might go down at the start of Act 5:
EB: and then my dad showed up out of nowhere and hit me in the face with a cake but it was just awesome to see him so i didn't mind.

I see what you did there.
Great fic! You've got their personalities down pat.

[PaulPower]

Thanks, guys . Yeah, I couldn't resist a shout-out to Eyes' comic there.

It's admittedly a pretty optimistic "what happens next", but I guess that's the point: given all the crap that's just gone down, and the crap that will probably go down once Jack and DD implement Plan B (for Bec?), an upswing seemed appropriate. It was also fun looking for the right balance for John of getting his butt in gear while still being... well, John .

I'm not sure how well I captured Dave, given he's usually better at hiding his feelings than I've written him here, but it has been a tough last few hours for him - maybe the crocodiles were the last straw.

[sarasvati]

holy crap I have internet again and there is SO MUCH TO CATCH UP ON.

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resda: haha, I love the idea that SB&HJ is based on a true story (sort of). Bro's douchebag friends have made a psychologically scarring impression on Dave! Adorable, in a how HIGH do you even have to BE kind of way.

PaulPower: I adore this so much you have no idea. John is the perfect upswing character, being so cute that he causes my pancreas to shut down, and a dose of optimistic action is so needed right now, what with all the doom and gloom that came with EoA4. This is definitely a crowning moment of heartwarming. (Also, as a note, I think you did Dave very well; when he's frustrated, he has a tendency to start to lose his shit, so what you did was neither over nor understated. It was really just right.)

Raccoon: oh god I could totally picture Dave making a snowdick and it is fantastic.

Doc: holy mother of nine fucks I have no idea what's going on here but I love it. Confusing as all hell, but in a good, appropriate-to-storytelling sort of way. I also adore the little shots of imagery (The Dersian alleyway smelled like sour milk, sweat, and the old brandy John Egbert's father would take out on the anniversary of Nanna's death and sip, slowly; The gleaming silk snapped straight like razor wire, close enough to capturing John that he felt phantom pains on his neck, and basically the whole fic). Dear god KEEP GOING.

Tenebrais: I am thrilled to pieces that you're continuing this. You've got a great grasp on the trolls' voices, and honestly, this thread needs more troll love overall. GA being useless at this game = the most amazing thing, truly.

Zuki: Poor Jade, it is just agonizing thinking that she's already starting to fray, and that she'll never be able to sleep as well ever again. You did a great job capturing her growing weariness in such a really short piece. Love

orngjce: I loved the repetition of "it was better this way;" it's WV's quiet resignation and the reasoning for his self-imposed exile in just five words. It makes it just heartbreaking.

Summergale: YES MORE SADFIC. John crawling out of the Denizen's lair as he's bleeding out everywhere is some evocative imagery. And reading about Jade's dreamcorpse and John's reactions just make me revisit all the emotion from EoA4 and make me all misty oh my god. The rest of my day is literally ruined by the sad and I love it.

Pozeal: whoops you're giving me fic-canon shipping material. (I think I might be addicted to shipping, this is trouble.) Again, you're doing a great job keeping your characters interesting and I look forward to more!

Aerok: This intermission is definitely showcasing a pretty big leap in improvement in your writing, comparing it to how Alandoned starts up. It's always awesome to see someone grow as a writer, and as usual, I hope you keep posting more.

And aaaahhhhh thank you guys for all the comments!

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Orange: oh god are you sure about that? I don't know, I think Andrew has me beat! But thank you!

cC: Thank you! And we're all a little crazy. <_< Dave is fully there, he just hasn't admitted it yet.

Summergale: Thanks! I had a hard time getting into a groove with Dave's narration, so I'm glad it came through.

rA: thank you! let's go get ice cream and together we can write dave fic amongst the stars. it will be a joy known forever.

Zuki: YES GO GO GO GO WRITE. WRITE MORE. WRITE ALWAYS. POST. GO. GO GO GO. PLEASE.

Soly: haha, thank you! I suppose it is a true passion, but some days I feel like the smelly weird kid who takes it all too seriously.

Doc: Thank you! I do have a John and Rose fic coming down the pipeline, but I actually have a John and Dave fic coming down too and didn't want to hit on too many themes here and step on my own toes. I did try to purposefully downplay Dave's grief, but I can see what you're saying and I agree that I undershot it a little too much. (Hopefully the John and Dave fic will make up for it in that area!)

The Doctor Who-esque feeling for Dave wasn't intentional, but it's hard to combine Weird Time Shit with a haggard war veteran sort of persona without the result looking a whole lot like Eccleston's Doctor. I do feel like it's appropriate, though; I've done counseling with real war vets, and survivor's guilt plus spending a lot of time in an active war zone will change you faster and deeper than you'd ever know. Dave is handling it remarkably well in that light. I might try to tone down the parallels in the future, but--if the key fits...

(and if the author is a huge, awkward dork and kind of fangirls over a who!dave.)

Thanks again for the detailed comment, and I really appreciate the feedback!

nextian: MY GOD YES WRITE IT. I'm trying to imagine Rose dealing with babies and the end result almost invariably involves alcohol. writing this would be a service to humanity.

man you guys run me ragged. NEVER CHANGE.

[DocBeard]

Hey.

First, thanks for the kind words. Solaris, yes, Rose has started the process of cocooning John. Why is a secret, but I figured if John's cocoon was blue, then who was in the red and green cocoons would be obvious. I guess I should make that clearer, but half the reason Rose kicked John's butt is because her fighting style is so, well, confusing. She has, however, made the same mistake most of John's enemies do.

resda, Tenebris, I appreciate the encouragement, and I'm glad you dug it. I'm hoping to have the rest of the story up in a few days, I'm just trying to decide if I should do a flashback or keep the specifics of Rose's issues off camera. Also while I'm tldring, Tenebris, I really dig your work and I like that you make cG's guardian as open to interpretation as the original four guardians.

sarasvati: Wow, I'm flattered. I've been told my writing is confusing before, and I obviously need to get better at being clear about what is going on in a scene. I had a vague idea of clear cut sunny John having to fight through a planet of shadows and half truths that dims his greatest asset(His, gC aside, uncanny insight into people.), but writing that is impossible to read is pointless.

I agree with it being hard not to give Dave a bit of a Doctor feel; I just think its important to remember that he's part of a quartet. Thematically, the kids need each other, and if you make Dave's particular burden too heavy it imbalances the whole thing. Conversely, it is entirely appropriate for this imbalance to exist because of John's mistake, so I may have been a little hard on this particular point. Your wanting to save the John and Dave bit for their own story makes total sense.

(And yeah now I'm trying to think of who'd be Dave's answer to the Daleks, Cybermen, Master, and Davros. Like some kind of turbo nerd.)

Anyway, I always dig your work and am looking forward to the other pieces you have cooking.

[sarasvati]

Oh no, your writing was crystal clear! I don't want you to get the wrong idea from what I said; it's more like getting dropped into the middle of a movie and having no clue what's going on. It's actually the clarity of your writing that pulls your story through that and turns it into something engaging versus a total clusterfuck. I had no trouble at all discerning what was going on in the scene, but I was left with questions about what was happening in a broader sense, why it was happening, etc--you know, all the hooks that a good, solid story uses to pull in a reader. Everything you were going for came across perfectly. A++.

It's easy for me to write Dave's burden as huge, I think, because at this point, he's the only character whose role is obvious. We know Dave is the kids' Get Out of Jail Free card, but we also know that this is at his own expense, so he has an edge of the self-sacrificing hero--pretty heavy by nature, even when it's dealt with in a (relatively) light medium like Homestuck. Meanwhile, we have no idea what being an heir, seer, or witch completely entails. Their burdens are probably equally massive, but something about them just hasn't stricken me yet.

I do absolutely see what you're saying about the kids balancing each other out, and this is something I hope to communicate a little better in future stories, namely the ones where Dave isn't totally hogging the spotlight. (because really, dave, do you need to make my fandom quirks more obvious?)

(And Bro is TOTALLY the Master to Dave's Doctor. The taunting, the fighting, but the twisted sort of brotherly love! oh my god turbo nerding is so much fun.)

[Gabu]

I decided on the Bro short fanfiction, but I kinda got bad writer's block and disinterest near the end and pretty much cut it off at the best possible point.

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He closed the door to his car and swaggered over to the club, where four other people were waiting for him, two of them taking drags on their cigarettes. It had just became night, and the unusually cold air gave them all the shivers.

A fairly short, strong man flicked his cigarette away. “Yo, what took so long?”

“Had to go get gas, man! Cars ain't gonna run by demselves, y'know?”

The brains of the group piped up. “What about solar powered cars? Or hydrogen?”

He scoffed. “Man, the day cars run on water, EVERYONE'S gonna flip off the fucking handle.”

The third man, the one with pretty bad stubble, spoke. “Well, c'mon, Bro. Let's get our asses drunk! We ain't gonna stand out here like some damn turkeys!”

“Gobble, gobble.” He smiled.

They got inside and began to enjoy the club's drink menu and entertainment. The music blared in the background, an odd mix of rap, techno, and industrial, but this group was in no way interested in the music, just the booze. This man did not care if tomorrow was Monday, mainly since he could be considered a self-employed man, and after all the work shooting the latest movie in a massive and popular series, needed to relax. Time passed, and when he ordered his second drink, he felt his cellphone buzzing. He grabbed ahold of it and answered.

“Yo?”

A feminine voice poked through all the noise. “Uh, is this Broliath Strider?”

“Hell yeah!” He paused. “Who is this?”

“Are you in any way related to David Strider?”

This didn't strike his alcohol-numbed brain as odd. “L'il bro, man! Why?”

“This is the hospital. He was admitted fifteen minutes ago with a high fever after he collapsed and went into a possibly fatal seizure.”

“…Oh, GOD! What are you gonna do to him?”

“I'm not a doctor, so I don't really know. You'll need to come over here and talk to the doctors treating your brother.”

“Where is he?” The receptionist gave the address. “I'm comin' right now!” He flipped his phone closed and grabbed his jacket.

“Woah, Bro. What's wrong?”

“Goddammit, l'il bro's in the hospital. Goddammit! Goddammit!” Bro was out to his car in a blink. It wouldn't have mattered if he didn't have drank that beer or no as adrenaline pumped in his veins speeding through the street. He nearly ran over a cat and almost got into a car crash reaching the hospital, and the second he parked in the parking lot he ran to the emergency entrance. All the while he could only think about what possible ailment could've struck his brother. He did, and yet did not, want to know as soon as possible, and immediately made it clear with his speedy entrance and dash to the receptionist's desk.

“Strider!” He panted. “Brother! What's goin'… on?” He was certain the receptionist could smell the alcohol on his breath, but he could care less.

“Calm down, sir. I'll call down someone in the emergency room that's treating your brother.”

Bro watched the receptionist make the call, and was ordered to go to the waiting room, where he could not sit down in. His fingers twiddled and he unconsciously made circles pacing the room.

“Mr. Strider?”

Bro snapped his head over to the voice. It was a doctor, holding a clipboard and a grave expression. “What happened?” He felt too stupid to talk in his own natural way.

“Your brother had a very serious seizure, and it lasted for a dangerous amount of time. In fact, it was so long that we had to stop it with medicine.” Bro was at a loss for words, one of an extreme few times. “Based on symptoms his friends reported seeing, this seems not to have been a sudden illness.”

“I told him, man. Shit started two or three months back and just kept gettin' worse.” He scoffed. “But he didn't want to see no doctor.”

“So you suggested he get medical help before?”

“Fuck yeah! Dad fuckin' died from goddamn brain cancer!”

“I see. This could be very grave.” A pause. “The brain scan should be completed and being analyzed at this very moment.”

On cue, another doctor walked over to the first. “We got the results of the brain scan.”

Bro prayed to God it wasn't cancer. He wasn't aware of the whimper he vocalized. He saw the first doctor take a look, and utter something before turning back to him.

“It's an abscess.” Bro was unsure to be glad or not. “It doesn't look like either a tumor nor cancer.” He turned to the second doctor. “What's the plan?”

“I ordered a blood test to be drawn. Why?”

“Apparently symptoms started between two and three months prior, progressively worsening.”

“What were the symptoms?”

“Well, he just got more and more forgetful, he had a bad headache and shit and ralphed up crap for no reason, and sometimes he'd zone out and shit.”

“Hmm…” The first doctor thought.

“Should he be prepped for surgery?”

“Yes, do it now.” The second doctor left, and the first turned back to Bro. “I'll be honest. The chances that your brother will live is fairly low, since the abscess had gotten fairly large. It has rendered him comatose.”

Bro rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… better than no…”

“And the fact is that he could have sustained brain damage. It is uncertain right now just how bad it may be. It could be minor and reversible, or very significant and permanent, and needing others to care for him. He may not even come out of the coma.”

“If dat's the case, I'd rather he be dead.”

The doctor placed a hand on Bro's shoulder. “I know it's not easy to go through. The best I can say is to hope for the best. I'll… come tell you if his condition has changed.”

“Thanks, man.”

The news didn't help Bro out at all, and might as well just made himself feel worse. He could still remember the gut wrenching horror when he was called down to the school office that one day and saw his mother and Dave there, flustered and in near-hysterics. She told him that his father was rushed over to the hospital and that he had to go with them. It was late that night when the official diagnosis came in. Malignant brain cancer. Advanced. His father was going to die, and within the week he did.

His mother couldn't stop crying, but he and Dave just felt numbed, for different reasons. Dave was only 7 at the time, so Bro assumed he was trying to wrap his head around the whole concept of death. Bro had more of a fear of what was going to happen without dad. Then, the morning after his graduation, several months after dad's death, mom had vanished, leaving behind only a note. Bro had gotten to the note before Dave woke up, and read it. According to the note, she said she couldn't bear being with them anymore due to them reminding her so much of her husband, and decided it would've been best for everyone if she left them for good. It disgusted Bro.

He had fallen asleep before long, though, but woke up at a very early hour and was unable to go back to sleep. Bro went out to his car and grabbed a flask of hard liquor he stored in the glove compartment, thinking that maybe he would worry less and fall asleep again faster being drunk. Somehow, he couldn't really handle the taste then. He noticed another person walk towards him when he was just going to start walking back inside, a man around the age of his younger brother. Bro noticed the man was shivering, and proffered a sip from his flask, but he refused. After a short exchange, he learned that this man, John, was a very good friend of Dave, and had witnessed the collapse, along with several other friends. John was worried and even more confused about his friend's condition, so Bro explained to him what he had heard about Dave.

“Oh… I see…”

“Yeah, man. It's real bad.”

“He's not gonna live, right?”

“Dey say so, and if he does he'll probably be, uh…”

“A derp?”

“…Sure, man. Whatever y' want to call it.” Bro started to walk off.

“…I should tell Jade and Rose, then. Thanks, Bro. Could you tell us if something happened?”

He paused before continuing to walk off. “Sure, man. Y' did save his life. Well, not really, but…”

“I know, Bro. Thanks.”

And so they parted ways. Bro went back to the waiting room, and nodded off for several hours. He was shaken awake by the doctor, and his stomach immediately twisted.

“Mr. Strider, your younger brother's surgery was successful. The abscess was drained with little trouble, and we have found a disease from his blood test and is getting the proper medicine now.”

Bro exhaled. “Thank God, man.”

“He hasn't shown any signs of consciousness, though.”

“Dude…”

“I can lead you to his room, now. You want to see…?”

“Hell yeah, man! Why wouldn't I?!”

When Bro finally saw Dave, he wasn't sure what to think. His brother was hooked up to several machines and an IV drip, but the big thing that spun his head was the large pad of gauze covering the stitch on a totally shaved head.

“You… shaved my bro?”

“The hair would've gotten in the way during surgery, Mr. Strider.”

“He needs a hat.” Bro sounded forceful.

“Well, we can get one for him.”

“Sweet. And none of those baseball hat crap.”

“Army hat?”

“Sounds good, doc.”

“Why not a baseball hat?”

Bro grunted. “He's gonna be embarrassed about it when he wakes up! At least make him think the choice was done ironically.”

“Okay…”

Bro came back several minutes later with Dave's friends and found the hat just barely covering his brother's head. The doctor had vanished, and he looked around before going up to Dave and gently lifted his head up and readjusted the hat to fit better. “There ya go…”

Optimism was the word of the day there, but Bro was simply hiding his worries from everyone, and he guessed that his brother's friends were putting on a brave face as well. He got rid of some of his worrying through learning about Dave's friends, even though, despite having been around several times, never really regarded them as existent. But as the hours passed, his brother's lifeless body remained completely motionless, save for his chest moving up and down from the oxygen being mechanically pumped into his lungs. He offered John, Rose and Jade to stay over at his apartment, and they all accepted this.

They came back the next day, with the only news of note being about Dave's fever going down, probably as a result of the antibiotic being administered doing its job. They all began to talk to Dave, generally about trivial things, as Jade insisted that Dave shouldn't feel left out of their discussions. It was silly to Bro, and he made sure to punctuate that point, but still couldn't help but offer ideas to what Dave would be saying if he were conscious, being the one person in the room with the closest personality.

When no news of Dave's condition either improving or getting worse came on the third day, Bro was truly scared. He wondered if his little brother would be stuck in this odd limbo between life and death, and if his brain really was too damaged for even basic consciousness, and if he had to essentially make the decision to have Dave die. He excused himself to the restroom to “take a whiz”, but in reality openly mourn.

Day four came. Bro admittedly did not get much sleep, and apparently so did John, Rose and Jade. The reality was starting to sink in, and fast. There still wasn't much to say about his brother's condition getting any better or any worse, just that the medicine seemed to be doing its job and a short test gauging Dave's consciousness proved that there was none to speak of. Still, they kept their vigil going, holding fast to shrinking hope, at least until Rose, possibly the most stoic of all of them ran off crying, with John and Jade yelling and running after her.

“Lissen, bro. Dey're sure ya've been lost. C'mon, man. Y,know better than to take it lyin' down. Do somethin' to show us you're still here.” Nothing. “I ain't sayin' ya start beatboxin'. Just… somethin' simple.” Again, nothing. “Don't do this, man. Y'all all I have left. I love ya, bro, and…” Bro blushed. “…I'm so proud of you.”

The fifth day arrived. The doctor came in and said there still was no improvement observable overnight, and told Bro to start seriously considering having the respirator unplugged and let Dave slip away. Bro once again put on his tough guy mask and took it as an insult, saying he would not do such a thing, as his brother would come out of it beatboxing. All that did was have the doctor offer grief counseling, and acknowledge that maybe it was still a bit early to bring up the issue, but would rather address it then and give more time.

Apparently Dave's friends had heard this exchange, and a hushed conversation followed, only to have everyone agree the topic too morbid and switch to another one.

“Dude, you like that shitty movie?”

“Hey, Bro, it's not shitty, it's cool!”

Rose didn't really sound up to the conversation. “I have to agree with Bro here, John…”

“Come on. That last scene makes me cry every time, it's so beautifully done.” John suddenly realized who he was talking to, and immediately blushed. “Uh… dammit…”

“Pansy.” Bro could swear he heard someone.

“Guys, did anyone just hear that?” Jade seemed to scoot her chair close to Dave's head. “I think that was Dave!”

Silence, which was only broken by Bro's shaky voice. “Dave?”

He was answered by a soft moan and fingers slowly twitching to life. Bro goaded Dave to awaken, as his friends were as well. He saw his brother's face ever so subtly scrunch up and eyelids tremble before finally His eyes had a cloudy, glassy appearance, and his face was still ever so slightly tensed up. But then he spoke, and for a moment Bro was ecstatic. It was a miracle to see his brother alive and mentally together after all those grave predictions to the contrary. It got shattered, though. Dave couldn't seem to recognize him, or any of his friends. Any weaker of a man and he would've felt his heart break.

--

“Hey, bro?”

Dave stirred, and looked at Bro. “Uhh…”

“It's Bro.”

“I… knew that.”

“Right, man.” Dave sighed. “Doing any better? I know, man, you woke up several hours ago, bu…”

“Where am I, and what the hell happened?”

“Thought they explained that shit to you.”

“Who?”

“Doctors, bro.”

He saw his brother go to scratch his head and pause when he felt extremely fine stubble. “The hell? W-what's going on?” Dave almost sounded frightened, and Bro went to explain the situation to Dave. “Goddamn it.”

Bro spotted the hat lying on the side table, and gave it to Dave. He snatched it up and put it squarely on. Bro had no idea what to think, as he was there several hours earlier hearing that doctor explain everything to Dave. Bro wasn't going to have Dave like this. In fact, he was somewhat afraid of what would possibly happen if Dave were to go back to his own apartment afterward in this state. While the thought of Dave injuring himself somehow was a farfetched idea, Bro was not going to let that happen. He wanted his little brother to get better, even if it took forever.

And when that day came, after weeks of dwindling hope on his brother's part, it was glorious.

I dunno. I just know that Raccoon's story is fucking hilarious and I love him/her forever for it. And DocBeard, I cannot wait for the next installment.

[Solaris]

Damn, Gabu why do you make me want about tragic things befalling Dave?
Also, Tenabrais, looks like timing for "In Which Twelve Trolls Ascend" was kinda... unfortunate....
I hope you continue regardless...

[Tenebrais]

I'm not sure what I'll do with Twelve Trolls now. Whether to continue disregarding whatever's happening in the comic, or just start something completely new...

[orngjce223]

Hmm. I have an idea kicking around about what Rose + OCD would look like. Probably leave this to Gabu - she's better at writing that sort of thing - but in the event that it doesn't get written by someone else, I may just take it on.

[DocBeard]

Howso? Like, what would be the ritual she obsesses over?

[Gabu]

I had a different idea in mind, actually. But what would the general plot be about so I can steal it help you out with it?

[Layra]

I really would have liked to see Twelve Trolls. By which I mean I am perfectly fine with you writing it in complete disregard for canon.
Also, I love all the other stuff in this thread, but I haven't been here in a while so it would take me all week to comment on all of it. But I read it all!

Also, since people are talking about Rose,

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Born from madness

Seer Seer you were too late
She landed amidst a cloud of white, glaring up at the sky. "What do you mean? I destroyed the notebook just as you told me to."
too late Seer too late
She shook her head and glanced around. Another empty island. Nothing here to find, nothing here to kill. The swarm behind her grew closer, its howling rage filling the air.
"Do you see anything Jaspers?"
"Nyope. Just trees and sand."
the prince of the Moon Seer copied the code
Strider? He had snooped through her belongings? No wonder he sounded so odd. He was never good at hiding guilt. "Well, at this point I can't do anything about it. I burned my copy. I can't imagine him doing anything meaningful with a hundred pages of meows."
born from truth born from madness Seer it exists it exists
She growled and grabbed her temples, trying to force them away. "Shut up! I don't have time for this."
"Who are you talking to, Rose?"
She waved Jaspersprite aside. "Nevermind. They're here." She turned to face the swarm, raising the Thorns and summoning another sphere of chaos and darkness. She flung the sphere at them, bounding away as it exploded.
Grist sprayed outward in all directions, and she grabbed what she could before flying off. Hopefully that would stall the swarm for a while.
She finally landed before a cave. No, not a cave, the entrance to a building, now covered in the same white sand as everything else. Twisted, leafless trees formed a path leading up to it, their branches reaching out Seer overhead. This was promising Seer no Seer don't go in
She entered slowly, the empty passage Seer turn back beckoning her forward. There was something familiar about the stylized turtles inscribed on the walls.
"I don't think we should be here Seer." Jaspersprite murmured. "This doesn't lead to the gate."
She spun to face her sprite. "I thought you couldn't tell me where my gate is."
"I can't. I don't know where it is. I just know that Seer it's coming for you this isn't where you're supposed to be."
She turned away. "The gates won't be of any assistance or interest at this point. I need to find answers, not to just play along." She started walking, entering a large, empty hall, large enough that she could barely see the other side. She spotted an exit in the far wall, deciding to keep that in mind Seer it's coming leave leave Seer leave for later.
"Rose, I think that we should leave." She glanced at Jaspersprite, unsure of what to make of the shaking of his voice. "Something about this place Seer escape if it gets you we can no longer help creeps me out."
A quick skim of the room revealed nothing of interest on the walls, just the stylized turtle pattern. She took to the air it's almost here Seer it exists if it gets you and looked down. Inscribed in the floor was decidedly not a turtle, but the spirograph. So, she was in the right place at least.
She headed down the exit hall, still in flight, not bothering to see if Jaspers was keeping up. A small platform caught her eye you are running out of time Seer born from truth you must escape before it arrives. Perhaps another of those transport platforms. But like the gates, turn back Seer born from madness it awaits you it exists she wasn't ready to move on yet.
At the end of the passage was a door, again marked with the spirograph, as well as an odd, angular symbol. Two triangular extensions the sides, if it gets you we can no longer help Seer two on top like ears on an animal's head.
"Rose, please don't open that door it awaits you within Seer. Trust me you don't want to open that door it exists within turn back turn back."
"Jaspers, it has the spirograph on it. It must have something meaningful inside."
"Rose, turn back Seer turn back Rose, please don't open the door born from madness born from truth turn back turn back Rose, please"
She shifted both Thorns to one hand no Seer do not open the portal, ready to launch another orb of chaos if necessary if it gets you we can no longer help, and grasped the handle. Seer born from madness born from truth it awaits it exists within
With a sharp tug it exists born from truth it's too late she pulled open the door Seer it's too late
Sharp white teeth grinned. "Hello, Seer of Light. Rose Lalonde. How wonderful it is to finally meet you."
Seer it's too late

Painting the fourth wall is fun, but a lot of effort.

[Ember]

Breaking Point

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Pain, and she's on the ground. She rolls onto her stomach and crawls, head reeling too much to try standing up. It was in her hand just a moment ago, so it must be— oh, down there. That's an awfully tall, steep hill.

Pain again, this time between her shoulders. Her arms crumple beneath the force of the blow and she falls flat on her chest. This time she does try to stand, and something pulls her down. She pulls back, hears fabric ripping, is up on her feet with sudden and surprising ease. When she turns around, the large Dersite has a foot on the remains of her skirt and the arm of the White King around his neck.

"Hurry!" the King calls to her, and she tries, she really does. She's over the edge in a heartbeat, but from there it gets so much harder. The ground of the battlefield is smooth and glossy with no friction except what she can make with her claws. There are no rocks jutting out, only very slight grooves she can cling to by the tips of her fingers or larger ones she can wedge her body against. The spray from the falls is no help either. Minutes slip through her hands like the cliff-face almost does several times. She considers jumping, feels the phantom pain of shattered ankles, and keeps going how she is. Finally her feet touch down on something firmly horizontal, and she turns to sprint to the place she last saw the scepter.

It isn't there. Of course it isn't there. Because why should things start going right now? Why should the universe suddenly start caring how much sweat and shivering adrenaline she pours into just doing her damn job?

Off in the distance is a dot of black and bold, garish colors carrying a speck of shining blue. Her eyes trace its path ahead of it, up to the summit of the next hill, and what she sees there stops her heart.

Then the sky lights on fire and jolts it back to beating.

Looking back up the cliff she sees the King is still wrestling with the Brute, who seems to have gained the upper hand. It's far too late to save the scepter, but maybe there's still something she can do to help. Her only other option is to run for her life, and that would be disgraceful. A ruler sacrificing himself for his kingdom is one thing, but not just for one peasant, not for her. Even if he'd meant to do it, she couldn't possibly accept that.

Going up is, mercifully, faster than coming down, though the strain it puts on her arms is almost unbearable. Red lightning cracks above her head like a whip spurring her on. The Brute has his back turned to her when she reaches the top, and she draws her sword and strikes him across it — not hard enough to cut into the endoskeleton, but enough to draw blood. It's something she never wanted to do, but it's her duty as a loyal citizen of Prospit.

"Get out of here, your Majesty!" she shouts as the giant of a man roars in pain and spins around to face her. The King says nothing, just looks at her, and there's a small glint of admiration behind the quiet despair in his visage — and then he does as she tells him.

The Brute takes a looming step forward, and she holds out the Regisword between them in shaking hands. "Don't come any closer!" she says. He does, and she knows she should strike — that she has to strike — but instead she backs up until her heel comes down on open air and she realizes she's hit the cliff. She's cornered in more ways than one: there are only two things that can happen now, and she isn't ready for either of them. "I mean it!" she says. The way his mouth splits open into a grin as he ignores her plea, the way the strands of saliva cling and stretch from tip to tip of his needle-sharp teeth, for a moment he doesn't look like a person so much as something that crawled out from the shadows at the edge of the universe.

She swings her sword — haphazardly, half-heartedly — and he leans out of the way so that she barely scratches him. On the downswing he lunges forward and swats her to the ground — not the far-too-far-below ground at her back, but to the side. The Brute kneels down over her. One double-sized hand pins her wrist, trapping her sword. The other closes around her throat and presses in. Her free hand shoots up of its own accord and wraps around the arm holding her down, claws sinking in until she can feel something warm and viscous well up against them. The Brute takes no notice, and as her muscles shudder and soften from lack of oxygen, her grip loosens and her arm collapses under its own weight, falling limply to her side.

The sound of falling water pounds in her aching head — much louder than it was a minute ago, she's sure — and the awful beauty of the sizzling sky almost burns her eyes as she stares up into it. The thought, When was the last time I looked at the sky?, darts in and out of her mind. There's an unusual sharpness to the world even as the edges start to blur, like her senses are fighting to soak up as much of it as they can. Above her, so very far away and out of her reach, she sees Prospit, her home, its great golden spires visible even from space.

She sees it ignite and start to crumble.

Something changes. The pain in her head and chest seems suddenly dull. Something else hurts, something that overshadows all the rest of it. She's dying, and the last thing she'll ever see is the end of the world. That's just too much.

Darkness creeps in around the edges of her vision, and her mind flickers like an old lightbulb.

Too much.

She's had such a long day.

What is that?

(She's so tired.)

Wait. Is it..?

…the moon?

Skaia quakes from the impact. Air rushes into her lungs and blood into her head, and she realizes the shockwave has thrown the Brute off of her. She pushes through the light-headedness and gets to her feet while he's still struggling to his. His size and weight — an asset to him a moment ago, when he was using them to crush the life from her body — are now working against him. She could try to run, but she's seen how fast he can be and how intent he is on killing her. She sees — with the same strange, cold clarity with which she saw the world as she lay suffocating — what she has to do to live. He's half on the ground and it really isn't fair, but then neither is anything else that's happened today. She's barely even surprised by the strength with which she brings the sword down.

Some time passes. She doesn't know or care how much. She watches the man she killed bleed into the stream and waits to feel something besides anger. It will hit her eventually, the horror of what she's just done. It has to, or else she's no different than—

—than the person whose voice she suddenly hears crackle from the radio on the dead man's body. She picks it up, listens, asks, "Archagent Noir?" Her own voice sounds distant and unfamiliar.

"Who is this?"

"The Parcel Mistress." Just a simple mail-carrier, she thinks, and something that's either a laugh or a sob wells up in her throat, but she swallows it before she can find out which.

"Where the fuck is HB?"

"He attacked me," she hears herself say dispassionately.

There's a moment of silence followed by barking laughter. She realizes all at once that he understands, that she knew he would understand, that somehow she's speaking in the tone of a hardened killer. "All right, doll," Jack says, now sounding positively cheerful. "What's the status on your mission?"

"I did what you wanted me to." She could phrase it any other way and it wouldn't be a lie. An hour ago, she would have chosen to. But there's a small, worthless triumph in deceiving this destroyer of worlds, and a somewhat less worthless one in the hope that the deception just might keep two people alive for at least a little bit longer. If they aren't already dead, she thinks, and wishes that sort of thought would still make her shudder.

"Good, good! Well, that makes my life easier. You still on Skaia?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Stay where you are, I'll be right over with your reward."

It occurs to her there's a strong possibility he means to "reward" her for her supposed treachery and for killing one of his men, and that therefore it would probably be a good idea to get as far away from the rendezvous point as she can. But damn it, she's come this far and she isn't giving up. Even now, even at the end of the world, her job matters. It has to matter. She sets the radio down, takes the crowns out of her bag, and waits.

She's never hated anyone before, so she isn't ready for the feeling that hits her when she sees him descend from the flame-lit sky. She wants to scream at him until her throat is raw, to fling herself on him and dig in her claws, to draw the sword he gave her and tear him to pieces. Holding herself back hurts so much that tears start to prick at her eyes, but she holds those back too.

There's some relief when he's true to his word, even if she can't stand the way he smiles at her. But as the Droll hands her the box and she hands him the crowns, Jack Noir clears his throat. "I like you, kid," he says. "You've got style." He gestures toward the headless corpse at her feet. "And, hey, looks like I've got an opening for a new agent. Interested?'"

"No." The word comes out like bile. What kind of person do you think I am? she thinks, and remembers having the same thought when he first handed her the sword and the hit list. She isn't the person she thought she was then, either, and she doesn't want to know how deep the hole goes.

"You sure? Keep in mind, doll, it's either me or the wasteland. There's nothing else left for you now."

She looks him directly in the eye and forces as much of her hatred as she can out with the words she speaks. "Then I choose exile."

"Huh. What a waste. Well, hold on to that radio. If you change your mind between here and the portal, you know how to reach me."

Without a word, she stomps on the radio and smashes it to pieces. The broken casing cuts into her foot, but she doesn't care. It's worth it, because for a moment Jack looks at her with undisguised shock.

"Suit yourself, doll," he says, regaining his composure. The anger is seeping back into his voice, and she's so very glad; the last thing in the world she wants is his approval. "But there is one more thing that I'm going to insist you do for me: think of me, when you realize that the food is all gone, that there isn't a scrap left on the whole miserable planet and your only options are to wait patiently to die or to end your suffering by your own hand. When you're hurting and fading from the hunger — believe me, doll, I've had prisoners starved, and there is nothing more pathetic — remember this moment. Remember that I tried to give you a way out." She says nothing, and he turns away from her. "Come on, CD. We've got worlds to conquer and brats to kill."

She holds her breath until they're out of sight, and when she lets it out only part of the ache in her chest subsides. There's just one more job to do, and after that she doesn't know what. Maybe the fate he foresees for her. Maybe deservedly. After all she thinks, looking down one last time at the decapitated Dersite, her victim, I've just gone and thrown away everything I've ever believed in.

But that's not true at all, says a mocking little voice in the back of her mind. You believed in work ethic, and see how far you've gone for that? Prospit is destroyed, there's blood on your hands, and you've struck a deal with a man who murdered most of the people you've ever met, but the mail will be delivered!

Then again, if that's what she has to cling to… Well, she could still be worse off, if not by much. She's done her job, and that matters. It has to matter.

She will make it matter.