MSPA fan fiction 2

[sarasvati]

raequiem: fuck yeeessss. you have no idea how happy this makes me. I am a puddle of contented goo. they are so cute together oh my god

breccia: gamzee is the best thing to happen to anyone, ever. period. I am cracking up so bad. "everyone's gonna be real motherfuckin' happy when I tell them about this tomorrow" fffffffffhahahahaha


I've been sort of taking inventory of all my projects, realized that I currently have nine in various states of completion, at which point I shot myself.

Several of my unposted fics are in the process of getting heavily revised and will probably end up looking nothing like what they look like now. So I decided that instead of hacking them apart and deleting most of them, I may as well post what I won't use!

so here I guess have some scraps/deleted scenes?!

scraps from all the king's men

scraps from gates of horn and ivory

[silrini]

Okay. Okay, okay okay. I'm still grinning like an idiot from breccia's fic, so I'll do that one first: OH MY GOD BRECCIA. THAT WAS AMAZING. I love the dramaz you threw the boys into, and the fight and working it out and GAMZEE and the other trolls and oh my heaven it was just wonderful. AND THE CUDDLES. HOW COULD I FORGET THE CUDDLES. Oh my god, so cute and funny. I'm so glad you finished that series, or whatever it was. Like Beep said, if you wanna make another part, that would be more than cool, but you don't have to, it works just as it is. ^__^

And raequiem. I feel like a moron for not noticing this before, but like, Dave keeps tracks of all the minutes and seconds(I only noticed once you had Jade keeping track of all the miles and feet and things). Also, I saw that little four minutes and 12 seconds. ^__~ I'm really loving this story, even with its' angst, because it's also cheerful-like too! I can't wait to see what you do with Rose and John for their 'remnants of SBURB' also. ^__^

[kmsumrall]

Moar praise!

raequiem : Does your story have a name? If not, I want to suggest Beats Per Minute. I'm really enjoying seeing the post game lives of the chums.

breccia : Trying to think of a good song to convey my feeling of this series. It's between "Have I Told You Lately" and " (I've Had) the Time of My Life"

As for my own project: I'm thinking of tackling The Alternian and the Troll again, or maybe write another Secret Agent Doc Scratch! overthetop epic.

[orngjce223]

Here we go. My first real longform piece. Hey, maybe I should write more second person with partial omniscience.

four titles

show spoiler

hide spoiler

It's one late night, when you and Dave are out killing Underlings and shooting the breeze, that he makes an offhand comment about having time in his head. Neither of you are entirely sure what this means - other than the obvious, the fact that the game changes you. Or, applying an overused Internet meme, the Russian reversal, that the game plays you, rather than the other way around.

It's when he tells you that it doesn't matter, that he's fine, that you get a flash of his thoughts - that he's lying, that he doesn't want you to worry about him. You ignore it, but when it comes time for you to bid goodnight to him and take first watch as he sleeps, you call him the Knight of Time, and he calls you the Seer of Light. You don't really know why.

A few months later, and Jade's trying to tell you that the fact that one corner of the tent is an inch higher than the other three and it's bothering her, and Dave's in the corner again trying to play his music to drown out the beat of time in his ears, and John's building a campfire with the help of the Breeze because he's terrified of going inside, and you're sitting there wondering if anyone else ever experienced the concept of a hive mind more completely than you are right at the moment. Probably not, you muse, and sigh as Jade comes over and, with her usual good grace, asks you to help her with the rope that's holding up the tent.

----

seer

You thought the role of a Seer would be to find the truth, not simply to look inside others. But, you suppose (as you yank on the pins holding the corners of the tent in complete darkness that would make anyone else blind), it's still easier to see what everyone else is thinking when they're lying. Which all four of you do a lot these days, with your own problems and, presumably, no point in sharing them.

The game gives, and the game takes away, and you would give anything for that moment of clarity you had when you first awakened into your dreamself; especially so now, when you have powers and no way to stop them. You're sure the others think the same; after all, you've seen it in their own minds. The Gods of the Furthest Ring have nothing to say about your powers save that they will become bearable in time. They say something about having seen this in other sessions, and you're not sure you believe them, but it's the only thing you have to cling to.

There's nothing in your psychology textbooks that talks about new supernatural senses. (Of course there isn't.) There's one passage on habituation, the fact that an input, repeated enough times, will desensitize most complex organisms to said input, but you suppose that, if Dave can't drown out what he says is nothing but incessant pounding, there's no way for you to ignore a complex and varied stream of input save doing it consciously. Unfortunately, you can't ignore it consciously; the thoughts of others reach into your mind and fill it with thoughts, tales, ideas. At least they're those of your friends.

But when it comes time to consort with the Consorts, your friends tell you to do it, and you reach into their minds, choosing the friendlier ones to ask favors of and avoiding the less positively inclined of them. It's easy enough, you suppose, and it helps keep everyone safe, as you get clearer pictures of the minds of the ones that don't like you and scare a Dersian spy away by threatening his home and family. But you can't do that all day, and when the thoughts start crowding into your head too close, too fast, too thickly together, you find something to distract yourself.

You distract yourself by sitting down and doing mindless things: knitting, sewing, and other sorts of crafting. You knit light, an alchemized glowing yarn, into many of your creations, and your friends wear them into caverns or shadows with gratitude. Jade asks you what you're thinking about when you deposit yourself into the corner and start knitting again, because you've been quiet recently. You know her strange perceptiveness, not the same magnitude as your powers but still significant enough, and you tell her that everything's changed. She just replies, "I know."

----

witch

She can change space with her music now. You're not sure how, but when something needs to be done, when a chasm needs to be made smaller or a goal brought within reach or something placed far away from anyone who would find it, she pulls out her bass, screws up her face in concentration, and with a few plucks of the strings the desired result is achieved.

Along with the use of this bass she also gets some kind of obsessive-compulsive need for things to line up straight in three-dimensional space - the corners of the tent not matching in elevation, say, or pictures needing to be hung exactly evenly on the walls. Sometimes she spins around in circles, for a long time, and she says being dizzy helps with the extra sense. You suppose it's better than taking to drink, and probably more convenient than your knitting, but when you're trying to help her across an uneven surface with her shutting her eyes and trying not to think of space, there's not much you can do.

You've heard that being told not to think of something increases the likelihood that you'll think of it anyway, so you try to distract her, the ditz that she is, and sometimes she'll sit down and play cards with you, or help you block your glowing knitting into shape for sweaters, or go swimming with you. She's good at swimming, and when it comes time to go back to shore and change back into your clothes, you let her lead you back.

It's from excursions like these that you learn she feels better when she can use her powers productively, so you stop trying to map your Land and let her navigate the sailboat through the shoals and islands and sandbars. She does this incredibly well, except when she takes ten minutes trying to park the boat exactly parallel to the dock and you finally let out a groan of exasperation and tie the boat down anyway. As soon as she steps onto land, she starts spinning again.

She asks you about the Witch part of her title. You dismiss the idea of letting her alchemize her rifle with the Grimoire - you don't think it would be a good idea to require a Prospit dreamer to consort with the Elder Gods - and instead let her alchemize with one of your many wizard statues. Her weapons let out green beams of fire to your violet, and you teach her the finer points of killing Underlings with them - aim for the base of the neck, that's the most effective part to hit - and some basic spells, like levitation and conjuring. She learns easily enough, she was destined for the title after all, and when Dave leans on his timetable-alchemized half-sword and watches you practice, you think Jade starts showing off a little.

----

knight

His power is the most obvious of the four of you, probably the most powerful - but also the most likely to drive him totally insane. When you reach into his mind, it's a great pulsation of time, a thousand clocks ticking in unison and cuckoo-ing on the hour. He has two timetables, alchemizing his time-code into his favorite instruments and using them masterfully, scratching back and forth across time. Sometimes there are two, three copies of him at once, and he synchronizes with himself to fight a common foe, jumping, slashing, spinning like a trio of dancers. Except he hates it when you use that metaphor.

He always knows the exact time, the exact date, the exact year, both from your point of view and from his. His point of view is an existence that runs back and forth upon a timeline, a train that runs both forwards and backwards to everyone else's forwards, and he's lonely in his own subjective experience, wondering why he had to be the one to contradict all of modern science and deconstruct all of modern physics.

The pounding in his head he first mistook for a migraine, and so Dave spent several days in bed with his eyes shut and the curtains drawn, trying to think of something, anything, other than time. Finally everyone decided that it wasn't doing anyone any good to have the best fighter in the group incapacitated due to strange mind powers that didn't seem to have any other side effects, and so he takes his mp3 player out with him now, blasting music into his ears, any music, any beat other than his own.

He finally speaks tonight, the first time he's done so in a long while, and informs everyone that in two hours, five minutes and thirty-five seconds we will have spent one full year in the Medium. You ask him if it isn't just his subjective experience of a full year, his having scratched back and forth in time so often, and he shakes his head and puts his headphones back on.

Jade suggests that everyone celebrate this anniversary, and John has you drag a table out of his house, and you come up with a lacy tablecloth, and Jade adds some fine china. Dave deposits himself at the alchemiter, creating towers of food and desserts, and when everything's taken to the table, somehow John has come up with party hats and noisemakers and candles and tells everyone to make a wish. You feel Jade wishing she didn't have her power, and Dave wishing he didn't have his, and John wishing he didn't have his, and you have nothing to add to that but a plea of the same nature, wishing that this game had never changed your life in the way it had.

----

heir

He can control the wind, a less useful power than everyone else's except that he can also control the breath. Jade would hyperventilate and he'd slow her down, holding the air in her lungs until she was back in a calmer state of mind and could figure out what was bothering her about space and position. But John still prefers working with great blocks of air rather than small currents, throwing sand into the Giclops' eye while he beats it down with a great hammer made of stone blocks and a sledgehammer and a hot iron, and this means he gets anxious if the air he works with is ever taken away from him by walls.

It's a good thing you don't have elevators anymore, you guess, and that Sburb doesn't require the stairs you build to his gate to have enclosures, because otherwise he would go mad. Already he's insisted you knock down several of the walls in his house, and you comply only because Sburb's wall-building material is so much stronger than anything you ever had on Earth. He has to use his own powers to calm himself when you explore caves or ruins, and you're not entirely sure why he gets the relatively mundane claustrophobia to your uncontrollable mindreading, or Jade's OCD, or Dave's pounding mind, but he's not complaining so you don't bring it up either.

Eventually he alchemizes an organ to give him more control over the Breeze, assisting the parcel pyxis system in getting things delivered to the ones who have asked for them in his free time. It sounds a bit like community service or volunteering to you, and that's what you tell him, but he shrugs and says it's helping his consorts route around his denizen's slime, and thus it's his obligation.

He shows a bit of his Dad's incredible strength in him now, a man who could lift safes and punch out enemies without breaking a sweat, but somehow it never shows on his frame - John is still a thin, gangly kid, and the only indication of his heirdom is the fact that he struggles less when he needs to toss great chunks of rock out of the way of a path to clear a cave-in. There are whispers of "so proud of you" coming through your mind when you catch a glimpse of John's dad watching his son show some mangrit, and you dutifully relay them. John just sighs and wipes his brow, and then goes back to work.

----

It's not that you play the game; you suppose, applying an overused Internet meme, the Russian reversal, that the game plays you. Late that night, after the party, you're putting the tent up yet again, trying to pitch it on level ground, routing around Dave with his pounding music running a counterpoint to his pounding mind, reassuring John that you'll take first watch to stay with him - and you realize you would prefer even this, strange and unavoidable as the sensations come, to being dead.

And you just barely notice as, when you and John are out killing Underlings and shooting the breeze, the pressure of thoughts on your mind shifts and you realize you can tune it out. You decide not to.

[JudgeDeadd]

What better activity with which to precede bedtime than immersing yourself in orngjce223's beautiful prose? I enjoyed the second person narrative, as it really helps to identify yourself with the characters.

[Mr Bound]

Maybe someone can help me--I'm trying to track down a fic I saw a few days ago, with Dave and Terezi in an art gallery. I seem to recall it was accompanied by nV's artwork. Can anyone assist?

[angelheero]

Maybe someone can help me--I'm trying to track down a fic I saw a few days ago, with Dave and Terezi in an art gallery. I seem to recall it was accompanied by nV's artwork. Can anyone assist?

Is this the droid you're looking for?
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4014141

[raequiem]

orngjce223: Second person is delightful, isn't it? And you do it oh so well. God I love Rose. And nice take on the kids' powers - slightly different than mine, but I like it!

kmsumrall: I had no title in mind when I wrote the first chapter, and I posted it on dA as "PTSD". I had every intention of coming up with some witty acronym, but now I kind of hate it and want to change it. I may use your suggestion, thanks!

silrini: Yep! Each of the kids will have a similar quirk, obviously, but some are more subtle than others.

sarasvati: I'm so happy it makes you happy! Couplefluff is like my favorite thing to write ever.

The bad news: I don't have the next chapter. *dodges thrown shoes and tomatoes* But it's for a good reason!

I have something I like to think of as a prequel. Rose's POV, sort of her musing on her relationship with John. And this one actually has a title!

How it Started

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The foundations, of course, were laid in the Game. Everything traces back to the Game, eventually. Like the way you never need to turn on the lights - Seer of Light, indeed. (Useful, since you find that you do your best writing late at night. John is not so nocturnal, but you're both adapting, both learning.)

Or how, that first kiss, the wind picked up around you, whipping your skirt around your ankles and your hair around your faces, closer than a breath, tasting energy and pain and something else, something more. (Something just a bit uncommon between thirteen-year-olds, but it's there and it can be patient, it can wait for the end of the Game. It has to.)

When you pulled apart after a moment that somehow seemed both hours long and far too short, you couldn't keep from smiling. His face was so priceless - eyes still closed, lips slightly parted (with just a smudge of your own dark lipstick on them), looking like a man who'd reached nirvana.

His eyes opened, and he smiled back. "Wow. That was..."

"Yeah," you agreed, "wow." And for a moment, you closed your eyes and just enjoyed being there, with his hands at your waist and yours at his shoulders. You rested your forehead against his and sighed, content to rest for a moment. "Just... wow."

Something chirped in your ear. You pulled away to see red text scrolling across the lens of your Hubtopband. Apparently Dave had been trying to get your attention for a while.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

TG: hey lalonde
TG: uh
TG: we kind of have work to do
TG: so if you and john are done swapping spit
TG: do you think we can get back to imp-smashing and saving the world?
TG: seriously, anytime is good
TG: not like we're in deadly danger or anything
TG: we can just call up jackshit noirledouche and let him know we need a time-out on that whole war thing, two of our players are too busy sucking face to fight
TT: Dave, shut up.

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

I will never ever not be writing in second person. It's just so delicious.

[Mr Bound]

Is this the droid you're looking for?
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4014141

That's the one! You rock!

...come to think of it, did this ever get posted in the Fanfiction thread? Might want to leave a message in the fanfiction archive thread to make sure it doesn't slip through the cracks.

[PaulPower]

As it happens, I'm sort of writing something like that right now - with Rose being jealous of John and Jade's BFF-ness and Dave having to do the sense-talking - although it's set during SBurb rather than after, with the added fun that John doesn't even think of anyone "that way" yet (well, except for Liv Tyler). I also don't know yet whether it'll see the light of day .

Well, here goes. Ironic that there's been so much fic lately with Dave being the one needing advice, and now it's his turn to dispense some.

Title? Well, going with my usual naming policy of picking whatever phrase from the text seems most significant, Hammer and Nails

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Dream John and and Jadesprite floated through the remains of Prospit's moon, scattered over the surface of Skaia. Some distance away, Rose and Dave sat on the chessboard ground and watched, their friends curled up asleep beside them. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what the Prospit dreamselves were saying to each other. But Dave could tell that something was bugging his... sister? Yeah, okay, his sister.

"You all right? You seem a bit... off. More off than usual, I mean."
"Hmm. I suppose I'm... yes. I'm jealous."
"Jealous? They're picking through the remains of the dream moon that they never got to explore together. Have some fucking heart."
"They're also holding hands."
"Yep, they sure are."
"John. Holding hands with Jade."
"You're getting at something, I can tell."
"Are you doing this deliberately, Strider?"
"Well, I dunno, are you deliberately beating around the bush, Lalonde?"
"Well, Strider, are you asking to be on the receiving end of Rose Lalonde pouring her heart out?"

Dave considered the offer. "Actually, that would be something. I don't think I've seen that before. But yeah, it would be pretty fucking nice not to be the one on the couch for once."

Smiling, Rose calmed down. "Okay. You asked for it... I guess I've always liked John. Well, obviously, he's my friend, but you know what I mean."
"... yeah, I guess. Seems like the dude is everyone's best friend."
"Exactly. He's easy to talk to, and that makes it easier for me to open up. In that sense, he's a better therapist than I am. Even when he says something insulting, it's easy to take because you know he's never trying to hurt you, just being honest and saying what he thinks. Although," she added, with half a smile, "now that his dreamself's woken up and he's become a bit more self-aware, he does at least warn me beforehand."
"... huh. Okay, I guess that fits..."

The smile vanished. "And then of course there's these memories in my head, of a timeline I never personally experienced, but that a version of me had to live through. Memories where John's dead, and I can't call him up when I want to chat to someone who'll be silly and nerdy and straightforward with me. Quarrels with Other You when things got heated, with no John or Jade to break up the tension. Dark little moments where I think we're going to be stuck in that timeline forever... with all that in my head, it really was a relief to see him wander goofily around my bedroom on your computer. Even if we did miss each other that time."
"What would you have done if you hadn't missed each other?"
"Ha. Good question. In all probability I'd have just stood there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Maybe we'd have both gone down to the kitchen and tried wearing magnetic Ws as silly moustaches."
"Ah, true love."

Ignoring the jibe, Rose continued. "I haven't even mentioned yet what this other me went through getting my dreamself to wake. Trying to work out what it was the game wanted from me... I think having Mutie around helped, and the other you did what he could, but you know what seemed to help most? That birthday letter from John. Other Me must have read it a hundred times, at first just as something to remember him by, but gradually realising the message behind it, hidden though it was behind a crude metaphor. Just the simple acknowledgement that I'm a better person than I think I am, that deep down I care for people, and that all it really comes down to is opening up to people, helped tremendously."
"Yeah, he does have a way with words. Well, actually, no. He's pretty terrible at words."
"A way with the words between the lines, perhaps?"
"Sounds about right."
"And then, finally, there's this whole... breaking the game thing. I'm still not sure if it counts as 'stopping me going over the edge' or 'following me over the edge', but he wanted to keep us all together whatever happened and that meant a lot to me. Even when he wanted me to help him with his silly "Save the Salamanders" detour, it was the least I could do. Maybe he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hammers don't need to be. After all, they've got nails to do that for them. Little thin needles..."

She ground to a halt. After a while, once he'd decided that nothing more was coming, Dave spoke up. "Well, I've got to say that's some premium grade heart-pouring."
"Thanks. I suppose."
"Certainly explains this whole jealousy thing. Although that's still pretty fucking stupid."
"Why?"
"Gimme a minute, I'm thinking... okay, I've got three reasons. First up, John was twelve less than two days ago. I doubt he's really thinking about this sort of thing yet. I'm not really thinking about this sort of thing yet, not counting declarations of bromance. I'm actually kind of surprised you are."
"Girls develop earlier in that regard than boys. Standard psychology."
"Yeah, thanks for basically confirming what I was saying. Let's face it, for boys our age it's impressive that two of our three best friends are girls."
"Couldn't that be taken as a sign of early maturity?"
"Could be. Then again, it could just mean that we don't actually think about it that much. Either way, you can't be jealous when the guy in question probably doesn't think of anyone like that yet, yourself included. Unless you count Liv Tyler."
"And she's probably been hit by a meteor by now."
"Yeah, now there's irony for you."
"Okay, duly noted. What's your second point?"

Dave scratched the back of his neck. "Weeelllll... once you get past the whole doofus thing, John's a good kid. He's got a lot of friendship to give and us three are the lucky people he gives most of it to. I mean, that's why we all like him, right? It's obviously not for his taste in movies. And he's an emotional, touchy-feely sort of guy. GC told me she's seen him tearfully hugging salamanders and paradox babies, and I'm not in the least surprised. Although I'd bet a year's supply of box office receipts that those were both Con Air references..."
"So your point is..."
"My point is, you can't get jealous with John for being, well, John. Well okay, you can, but it defeats the fucking object. If he wasn't the kind of guy who could hold hands with a close friend who it turns out is also his sister, you probably wouldn't like him as much as you do."
"I guess you're right. What's number three?"
"Well, this is the killer. As much as Jade loves John as a friend and a brother, and as much as she's quite happy to hold hands with him on that basis, I really don't think she sees him... that way."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Well... a few things. She seems to be deliberately trying to stay strong when he's around. All the crap she's been through lately, she's got as much right as any of us to feel down. And when she's talked to me in private, she does feel down. But when John's around, she toughens up, does the whole "brave little soldier" thing. I'm no expert, but it feels to me like she's trying to make John worry about you more than her. I know you said that you could hardly ask her about this, but I don't think it's a bad option. Maybe she'll surprise you.

"As for John... if we somehow get out of this mess alive, then... I dunno? Wait it out? Be a good friend to him in the meantime? Alternatively I guess you could tell him how you feel and watch him flip the fuck out because he's not prepared for this sort of shit. Probably pretty useless advice, but there isn't really much more I can offer. Like I say, you're best off talking to Jade."

Rose sighed. "I guess. I don't know. They just seem so... similar. They've got so much in common."
"Can't deny that. But maybe there are more important things than having a lot in common, and maybe that's what Jade's hinting at. You said it yourself, Rose: hammer and nails. You complement each other. If he can get you to open up, and you can get him to sharpen up, then that's making the universe a slightly better place. Even without bringing... that sort of thing into it."
"Thanks, Dave. But... you aren't... disappointed at all, are you?"
"Oh boy, back to being the one on the couch."
"Actually, this one's less psychology and more literature. I was just thinking about Shakespeare. Much Ado About Nothing. Specifically, Benedict and Beatrice."
"Oh yeah, the two witty ones who can't stand each other and are always making jokes at each others' expense but then the hero decides to play a joke on them where he tells them both that the other secretly loves them and they actually end up getting together at the end."
"Um... yes. A rather prosaic summary, but an accurate one."
"I get what you're saying, though. And hey, maybe it'd work. I don't know. Ball would be entirely in your court, mind, because I honestly don't mind either way. Although there's the whole 'oh hey turns out we're actually siblings' thing. That puts a pretty serious damper on things."
"Perhaps..." said Rose, looking over at John and Jade again.
"Look, just talk to Jade about it, will you? Please? I'd really rather not deal with this love triangle that probably doesn't exist."

Okay, that was something she could do a snappy comeback on. "How do you know it's not a quadrilateral?"
"What?"
"You said Jade is trying to stay strong in front of John, but she breaks down to you in private. Perhaps... just perhaps..."
"... ah, shit. You think?"

Rose smiled mischievously. "I think I will have that talk with Jade after all..."

also:

orngjce: Fun stuff. Kind of scary to think of them spending a year playing the game though (hey, maybe this is a timeline like the bad future one but where John and Jade use their "extra lives" ).

[Tenebrais]

Such a flood of fic of the kids lately! I love it all. I especially like all of them.

[Red Pen]

Procrastinating like crazy on Unhinged, so here, have a drabble.


Three Exiles, Slightly Broken

show spoiler

hide spoiler

-Sleep-

She wakes up screaming, and AR sits with his arms around her shoulders until her shrieks dissolve into sobs and she buries her head in his chest. It's still so early in the morning that the air is frigid and the stars glimmer distantly in the darkness. The small, dark shape of WV is huddled like an animal by the ashes of the fire he fell asleep tending to. He sleeps like he's dead, and no amount of screaming ever wakes him.

Part of her is glad AR is there, and part of her wishes he wasn't; she never had nightmares like this when she was alone in the desert. She'd been empty, isolated, cushioned by the luxury that was not remembering. Now she has to crack her jaded shell just to recall how to interact with other people, and when her walls come down, the memories and nightmares creep in.

They can't leave the fire unlit; the desert nights are too cold and there's a very real danger of freezing to death in their sleep. AR steps over WV and stirs the ashes with his bare hands. There's still some warmth beneath them, and he throws more fuel on the fire - broken slats from the crates stacked high in the temple that looms darkly over them. He breathes on the dead coals until they glow and catch the wood alight.

He'll sit up with her, if she'd like. But she'd rather go back to sleep, if only for a few more hours. She isn't afraid of nightmares.



-Eat-

They eat whenever they're hungry, out of cardboard boxes and the strange, rusted, temple machines, and the tin cans that she rather smugly pries open with her Regisword, showing off a bit for the others. The three of them sit in the cool, shady interior of one of the powerless stations, cross-legged on the metal floor and reveling in the fact that they can eat with their fingers and no one but AR will care, and even he grudgingly admits that it isn't as if they have any silverware.

Mealtimes seem lighthearted on the surface, but she knows it's only because she's trying not to think about how very broken they are. AR is careful not to spill, she notes, and he doesn't toss his garbage carelessly aside like the rest of them, as if it the cities of this post-apocalyptic world weren't already filled with trash. She used to wonder what he did with those neat little piles of empty cans and cartons until one day she saw him carefully burying them in the sand, in a neat little landfill he'd marked off with caution tape.

He's never really been hungry, and neither has she. She was lucky enough to find the wheelbarrow, and smart enough to plan ahead and pay attention and learn where to find food in the broken husks that had once been cities. On cracked sidewalks half-buried in sand she learned to open cans, and she feasted on syrupy fruit and spicy soups and piled them by the armful into her little pushcart so that she'd always have something for later.

They have to keep an eye on WV when they eat, because if they don't he'll just keep eating and eating until he makes himself sick. She doesn't know if it's some kind of compulsion or if he's just been hungry for so long that he can't remember what it feels like to be full. She doesn't want to ask what he's been through; what he was doing on nights when she was curled up with a full stomach, licking syrup off her fingers.



-Talk-

She's bad at conversation. Her mind darts around too much, trying to look for hidden aggression, trying to turn everyone into an enemy. She holds too many taboos and gets angry at too many subjects, and she feels like the world is just waiting to insult her. It makes the others uncomfortable, the way she jumps at sudden movement and draws her sword on anyone and everyone who approaches from behind her. At night when they sit around the fire and talk, she's too busy glaring at the flickering shadows to contribute.

AR and WV talk about anything and everything, as if they've known each other their entire lives. They revel in what she would call "arguing" but what they assure her is "debating." They bicker about law and government, and how they're going to rebuild civilization. WV insists that his newly-constructed world will have a new set of laws, tailored to aid the common man, and AR goes on about how the law is something sacred and can't be changed, and they dissolve into heated shouting matches that always end with the two of them drafting out yet another constitution in the sand.

AR's eyes go fever-bright when he talks about the law, as if it's a religion and he's been filled with holy fire. It isn't insanity, she reminds herself, any more than that wheelbarrow full of old, rusting mailboxes is insanity. When you'd lost everything, you needed something to grasp on to.



-Think-

She'd grasped on to the mail, if only to have something to do that kept her mind and her legs moving. She remembers a time when she'd spend days on end scouring the desert for scraps of paper, gathering them in her wheelbarrow and delivering them at random to the corroded boxes still peppering the cities. It didn't matter which went where, because there were no addresses anymore, and it was only something to do to keep her mind and her legs moving. Except sometimes she thinks it was more than that, because when she was delivering letters she could almost pretend that she was back on Prospit and the world hadn't ended in blood and fire.

WV is building a city out of cans. He happily devotes hours to stacking them atop each other, empty and full, whole and dented, and he makes bridges and skyscrapers and sidewalks paved with pop-can tabs. The desert sunlight catches it and turns it to silver, and it is precise and beautiful in its minutia. She wonders if he was an artist before the Reckoning. Farmer, he says. He's never seen a city.

She honestly can't tell if AR is helping or humoring him, but every so often he'll join in and add streetlamps and spires made of gleaming ammunition, and they'll argue some more about their constitution and whether or not the main throughway needs a strip mall. She finds it amusing, like some ridiculous game the two of them are playing, until one day she makes some innocent comment about wanting one of the pillars of City Hall for dinner and finds herself cornered by an enraged WV who can't believe she'd tear apart his city just so she could have something to eat.

It takes all her self control not to draw her sword on him then and there, but after she's taken a few deep breaths and managed to calm down, she sees the haze in his eyes and realizes that the line between fantasy and reality doesn't exist for him anymore. He's grasped on to his city the way she grasped on to her mailboxes, but now he doesn't know how to let go and he's lost the ability to tell that it isn't real.

She feels sick inside, and even with that scowl on his face she wants to reach forward and hug him, but she's not good at touching people and so she just turns and runs. She hides out in the temple for a while, and by dinner he's forgotten all about it.



-Love-

Every night, unless it's her turn to watch the fire, she sleeps next to AR, curled up in the hollow of his arms to absorb as much of his body heat as possible. "Not good at touching people" doesn't apply to him. Long after WV's fallen asleep, the two of them stay up and stare upward at the stars sparking in the blue-black sky.

Stars are new to her; they didn't exist in the empty blackness of the medium. She names constellations and he commits them to memory, until all she has to do is point at a cluster of stars and he can tell her what she's decided to call it. Silly names like "squiggly snake" and "giant spoon." Out here in the desert there is no smog, no city lights, and no clouds, and the stars go on forever, like a bottomless ocean filled with little glowing lights. AR ruins the magic a bit by wanting to count them all, and so far he's gotten to four thousand and thirteen. He hasn't even managed half the sky.



-Live-

The worst part, at the beginning, is being a Prospitian among two Dersites. She knows them, loves them, thinks of them as her only family in the world, and yet there are days when she can only see black and white - her pearly hand stark against ARs - and it makes her jumpier than usual and more prone to threatening them with her sword. They give her a wide berth when she's like this, even if they don't know why, and she finds herself wandering off to hide somewhere and cry.

She is the last Prospitian in the multiverse. Her home is fire and death and blood and wreckage and snow-white corpses lying in the streets, and the only two people left in the world look like Jack Noir. And she hates herself for thinking like that, and so she cries even harder and can't seem to stop, and when AR comes looking for her to ask her what's wrong, she throws her Regisword at him and doesn't even care when it almost impales his foot.

She's alone for a while, and then WV finds her. He sits next to her and gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, and offers her the can she wanted from his city.

It's full of apricots. They sit side by side in silence for a while and eat it together.

When they're done he lectures her about all the trouble he and AR had to go through to renovate City Hall. She smiles slightly and wipes her eyes, and tells him they're all just cans.

He smiles back at her, and tells her they're all just people.

[resdaMalos]

Three Exiles, Slightly Broken

This is adorable, I have to tell you.

Okay, posting this before my internet connection completely dies. SEE MY DEDICATION TO YOU PEOPLE.

Scratch, Chapter 4 in case it got missed. I might go back and edit next and previous chapter links into all the posts.

Scratch, Chapter 5

show spoiler

hide spoiler

TG: you what
TG: i get it
TG: bad idea
TG: you shouldnt have given me the timetables
TG: how could i have been such an idiot
TG: i know what youre thinking
TG: because i was thinking the same shit
TG: so skip the bitching
TG: and tell me how to fix it

Dave was satisfied with his banter, rereading it as it slowly appeared on his shades. Take that, future self. The time for bullshit was over. He would fix the timetables, then go back to kicking ass, and then the four of them could complete this game and move on with their lives.

But it's never that simple, he thought to himself. And as if to justify his uncertainty, Davesprite's orange-tinted message appeared onscreen.

TG: they cant be fixed

"Can't be fixed?" Dave wanted to yell again, but Rose was still nearby. Keeping cool was paramount. He took another quick breath, preparing to launch into another rant.

TG: dont tell me
TG: you dont know how they work either
TG: you got them from some future version of us
TG: and he was a piece of shit and didnt tell you how they worked
TG: the right one controls the timeline and the left one controls where you appear
TG: just dick around with it and youll get it
TG: go ahead and fuck with the timeline all you want
TG: just dont accidentally lose the record
TG: or youre fucked
TG: would have liked a little warning there boss

He stopped. If he knew himself at all, he knew that Davesprite would cut in any minute now. It was almost like playing yourself in chess, except instead of pieces you have masterful flow and immeasurable charm.

Right on schedule.

TG: no the timetables are all me
TG: alchemized those shits myself
TG: im actually kinda pissed
TG: i worked hard on those things
TG: and then you go and break them
TG: like you recorded over my best jam
TG: with some soft rock or classical shit
TG: and im about to play it live for the first time
TG: get the dj off the stage
TG: but no
TG: thats not the problem
TG: you said the record slipped off
TG: that should be impossible
TG: because they shouldn't be breakable
TG: theyre built like fucking rocks

"Well, that's great," Dave muttered to himself. Rose gave him a questioning look; he waved her off.

TG: oh no you saw right through me
TG: because i have every reason to lie about this shit
TG: you were the knight too
TG: you have to notice that somethings up
TG: thats the thing
TG: im not the knight anymore
TG: just an awesome dude
TG: merged with a brainless feathery asshole
TG: in this timeline
TG: youre the knight
TG: its you
TG: no ceremonies
TG: no king beating you with the flat of his blade
TG: telling you arise sir strider
TG: no round tables
TG: ok maybe there are round tables
TG: you know what i mean
TG: i hear you
TG: the reference is secure
TG: but that kinda leaves me with no plan
TG: you sure rose cant cast the spell
TG: maybe rig something up to work long enough
TG: so that you can go back and tell yourself to stop being an idiot
TG: yeah lets add more layers of time traveling copies of us to this timeline
TG: its been working out awesome so far
TG: thats all ive got
TG: not good enough
TG: msg me when you come up with something better

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

Dave flopped backwards onto Rose's bed. "This has gone from bullshit to kinda okay all the way back to bullshit again," he said, forgetting for a minute that Rose couldn't hear him. "Oh, damn it."

TG: he said he doesnt know how to fix it
TG: that they shouldnt have broken in the first place

Dave watched Rose as she composed herself; if he hadn't been spinning the platter the entire time, he would have thought she froze again. One agonizing wait later, she had her reply.

TT: I have been thinking.
TT: Future Dave brought the timetables with him, from his timeline.
TG: no shit
TG: he had to save john from being retarded
TG: getting himself killed or whatever
TT: You really have a good grasp of the situation as a whole, don't you?

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. Dave shrugged in reply.

TT: But I digress.
TT: By traveling back, his timeline changed.
TT: Or ceased to exist, whichever terminology suits you.
TG: my hand is getting tired
TG: id like to know if my time is being wasted properly
TT: I'll assume you understand. Here is point two.
TT: Moving the timetable back and forth shifts you back and forth through time.
TT: This means, of course, that the record must have some sort of recording of the timeline on it, of past, present and future.
TT: The records on the timetables at this point in time came with Future Dave when he went back.
TT: Meaning...

Rose looked at him, expectantly, but Dave was drawing a blank. He quickly stopped time again, trying to think. "Meaning what, Lalonde? Couldn't you not be cryptic for once?"

Dave paced the floor, the Rose statue still watching him, silently waiting for an answer. "Okay," he thought aloud, "so future me brought the timetables. He made them himself, before giving them to me." Somewhere along the line... David Strider earned his knighthood, and then passed it on to himself, he silently added. "The timetables exist because he made them. But why is that important?"

Dave looked at Rose, still frozen. She had a nearly imperceptible trace of a smile on her face - he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't give her a closer look. "Rose, you're really frustrating me." He reread her pesterlog. "The records. Why did you mention the records?"

"I worked hard on those things," he could hear himself say, as he read backwards through his conversation with Davesprite. "Alchemized those shits myself."

Dave stopped - it was starting to become clear. "The timetables, the records. He made them. They're his. Not mine." Dave restarted time, ready to answer.

TG: the records are from his timeline
TG: they stopped working because his timeline doesnt exist
TT: You reasoned that one out quickly.
TT: Or did you?
TG: no need to question it
TG: im a fuckin genius
TG: like an autistic savant except im good at everything
TG: all kinds of skills here
TT: Or you cheated.
TT: But we're losing ourselves again.
TG: right so we know that these timetables are busted because they shouldnt be here
TG: lets just ignore the fact that one of them is working
TG: ill bet that wont last long with my luck
TG: where does that leave us
TT: Where else?
TT: You're going to have to make your own timetables.
TT: From scratch. Alchemize them yourself.
TT: That way they correspond to this timeline.
TG: love this disposable mentality
TG: oh no i broke it
TG: dont worry dear ill get new ones
TG: closet full of busted timetables
TG: oh i cant bear to part with them they mean so much
TT: We could go back to almost twisting your arm out of its socket.
TG: see i dont see that working
TG: ever

Dave shrugged his shoulders. At least he wouldn't have to feel like he didn't earn his title. He'd have to do the work for this one himself. Perhaps it was better this way, he thought.

TG: shit lets be the knight of time
TG: fuck
TG: who would even make these
TG: conksuck timetables anyway
TT: Time travelers??..
TG: heh you got it
TG: ironically shitty punctuation and all
TT: Anything for you, Dave.
TT: So. There is one problem remaining.
TT: You can't exactly go off adventuring if time is still frozen.
TT: Which, unfortunately, puts us right back where we started.
TT: We need to do something to restore the regular flow of time.
TT: Then, once you're able to interact with the rest of the world properly, you can take whatever actions you need to regain your time-hopping ability.
TG: so essentially we got nowhere
TG: best circular logic ever
TG: lets restart time so we can get the item we needed to restart time
TG: awesome
TT: I see two options.
TT: First, we get the platter spinning.
TG: if we could do that we wouldnt be here
TG: i wouldnt have to be flying around your planet watching you and everything else be statues
TG: whats the second option
TT: Destroy the timetables.
TG: wait what
TT: Time was flowing just fine before they existed... or so I believe.
TT: Perhaps, without their influence, the time stream will move as expected?
TG: whoa no
TG: lets not be hasty here
TG: if youre wrong then i cant fix this anymore
TG: everything will be frozen forever
TG: one universe wide tableau
TG: like something out of a twilight zone episode
TG: do you really want to risk that
TT: As much as I would love to stake the universe on a coin flip...
TT: You're the one with the final say.
TT: If anyone is destroying the timetables, it's going to be you.
TT: Even if I wanted to do it myself, it's physically impossible for me to do so without you getting caught in the blast.
TT: Case in point, the rotation spell.
TT: So tell me. You're the Knight of Time, after all.
TT: Through firsthand experience alone, you have gained knowledge of inner workings of the space-time continuum I doubt any of us could grasp.
TT: Even if you play dumb to it.
TG: hey
TT: So, O Knight, whose very will causes life to go on,

Dave groaned.

TT: Will the time stream flow without your guiding hand?

"Ever the poet," Dave muttered under his breath, confident that Rose could not hear him. He sighed, closed his eyes, and released his hand from the tables. His ears perked up, but caught nothing. The universe, usually chaotic, was silent and still.

It was unnatural.

He thought back. The universe was always moving; time, always flowing. He heard it in everything; the tick of the clock, the rolling boil of lava. His heart beat. The lilt of Rose's voice. He had always been aware of it; he had always kept time. Before, it was musically. Beat sequences, calculated verse. An attempt to impose order on chaos, take the beat of the universe and synchronize it to his own mind. But now, the term "keeping time" was a little more literal.

He spun the record forward, drawing his blade.

TG: hey rose
TG: come here one second

Rose complied, standing beside him.

TG: theres something i wanna do
TG: in case this does fuck everything up

Without another word, Dave planted a kiss on Rose's cheek. He watched as the blood slowly filled her face and she reeled back, as if the kiss was a gunshot wound. He snickered as he lifted his hand off the record again, watching Rose freeze with a look of genuine, shocked, embarrassed confusion on her face. "Okay, fun part's over." He lifted his sword into the air and brought it straight down, right into the center of the platter.

[foxesforsale]

@kmsumrall: This is like the best action film ever. Except, a fic, so EVEN BETTER.

@breccia: ASFHLDAFALSFKJ:SLDGHA YES YES YES this is amazing and I love you The Gamzee bit at the end just clinched it as fantastic.

@raequiem: I'm really enjoying this, and I'm looking forward to the next part. You write Jade very sweetly! Also, the John/Rose ficlet was wonderful, it really felt like a special moment. And of course Dave is just great.

@orngjce223: Great exploration of the kids' powers, and nice work with Rose! I like the idea that John is claustrophobic, and hates closed spaces. It makes quite a lot of sense to me.

@PaulPower: This was excellent. (shit I'm running out of adjectives. I'M SORRY EVERYONE, I JUST LOVE YOU ALL WHILE NOT BEING ELOQUENT ENOUGH TO SAY IT WELL) Dave and Rose work together very well, and I like that Dave is giving Rose the advice Yesss love quadrilateral

@Red Pen: Awww, PM You really made them feel like a family. Lovely writing too!

@resdaMalos: Um, hell yes? This story is awesome and you're awesome. Can't wait to see how this pans out!

Oh man I am out of words. LOVE YOU ALL

[Sushi Database]

I'm really enjoying Scratch, but it kind of makes me feel guilty, because the more of it I read that means the more tiny circles Dave has to make.

[nextian]

I'm really enjoying Scratch, but it kind of makes me feel guilty, because the more of it I read that means the more tiny circles Dave has to make.

It's like Rosencrantz and Guildernstern. But with more carpal tunnel syndrome.

[VagabondRaiser]

I need to stop being a lazy bastard, I think.

I've been keeping up with Scratch, and I just about squee'd at the sight of the new chapter of Unhinged, but I've been neglecting the thread. Basically, just checking to see what's been posted, not reading, going back to my headbangingly annoying school work. I did just read through Three Exiles, however. Red Pen = Awesomesauce. Nothing more need be said on the matter, I think.

Last night, I tried to get to sleep. Spent half an hour lying with my eyes closed. Couldn't shut my brain up, so I got up and started writing.

The result?

Hearts Across Time: Chapter 3 Intermission (1st Base)

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Warmth on Dave's face from a gap in the blinds brought him from a dreamless sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he forgot himself; blearily, he sat up in a hurry, and looked about at the various posters adorning the walls, each proclaiming the arrival of 'DJ Erscratzch' at a number of increasingly swank venues.

Idly running his hand across the spot on his chest where his seppublade would be, he glanced down as his fingers crossed a rough patch on his bare chest. A two-inch high scar adorned his chest, right at the bottom of his sternum. Hazily, he remembered that this Dave had been the target of an attempted assassination by a gang of street thugs early on in his career.

Only one of the four thugs walked away from that fight, and it was the one that managed to run him clean through with a shitty decorative sword he grabbed from the trunk of Dave's car. He had been picking up a replica of a rare katana as a birthday gift for his brother, a special order from the pawn shop in town, when they showed up.

One pulled a gun, and lost the use of his other hand when he propped himself on the open trunk while threatening Dave. A quick slam and the thug's fingers were crushed by the lid. When the thug went to reach for the lid to try and open it, Dave had the gun out of his grip and across the sidewalk with an easy flick of his hand.

One of the others jumped in with a knife as he rammed his elbow into the first man's face, but he redirected the attempted thrust into his partner's back and snapped the guy's other elbow. It felt as easy as snapping a twig, but it sounded like bending a sapling in half.

The third guy didn't seem to be as stupid as the others-- he just held up his hands. When Dave turned to free the first guy's hand from his trunk, the third guy jumped onto his back-- and wound up being flipped across the roof of Dave's car for his trouble, slamming his face into the rear bumper of the car parked in front of him.

After he got the first guy's hand free, he calmly went around to get his cell phone so he could call the police. He hadn't noticed the fourth guy, who had ducked behind a postbox when the first drew his gun. He didn't see the man draw the sword, but he certainly saw him lunge as he turned to get out of the car.

Caught between the car and door, and his attention diverted, he didn't have a chance to avoid it.

He could tell the last thug was young blood, a fresh-faced newbie; the way he stared in shock and surprise after driving the sword almost all the way through Dave's chest was pretty much a dead giveaway. Dave grabbed him by the shoulder, handed him the cell phone with every ounce of dignity he could muster, and whispered 'ambulance, call, shitcock,' and collapsed.

He should've died. By the time the paramedics arrived, he had been dead for almost five minutes. Yet somehow, they managed to defibrilate him; somehow, they managed to bring him back from the land of the dead. With Jade's perpetual support, he was able to regain full function of his body, despite the fact that the sword had gone clear through and shattered one of his vertebrae.

The doctors were just as surprised as he was that on the day they discharged him from the hospital almost a full year after the attack, he signed out at the front desk, stood up out of his wheelchair, and with Jade as support, walked out of the hospital.

Sure, he didn't walk again for a month, but it was worth the looks on their faces. If it weren't for Jade, he probably would've moonwalked out the door.

He was back on the nightclub scene three months later. The story of his survival had his CDs flying off of the shelves; he started practicing various dance styles, and landed a couple public speaking gigs for disabled kids. Eventually people calmed down about it, sales went down, and it wasn't a federal fucking deal if he decided to tear up the dance floor.

It was all a rather riveting tale, and Dave found himself vaguely dejected by the fact that he was getting the experience second-hand through the memories of yet another hijacked Alt-Dave. He started to attempt to reminisce about some other possible exploit this Dave had gone through when movement from the cracked door caught his attention.

He thought he saw something black shifting at the bottom of the door. He twisted to set his feet on the floor, and as he did a black streak shot into the room, bounded over the shirt-and-shoes pile beside the door, and plowed into his chest. With a surprised yelp, he fell back onto the bed.

Mutie sat calmly on his chest, watching him with a pleased look on his face, tail flicking about like a cat that'd caught wind of prey.

A giggle came from the door, and he sat up, catching the pudgy cat before it fell off the bed and setting him in his lap. Jade pushed the door the rest of the way open, and leaned on the doorframe, smiling and shaking her head.

"Glad to see you're awake, Mister Sleepypants. It's almost one in the afternoon," she said. "I was about to go get a bucket of water or something."

Dave calmly eyed her rather dishevelled state as he scratched under Mutie's chin. She was wearing another one of his red record shirts, but at least this time she had a pair of blue atom-print pajama pants on. Her hair was a mess, and she was clasping a large mug with both hands, a single tea tag hanging over the side by the butt of a spoon.

"And I'm supposed to assume you've been awake for hours," he droned, picking up the furry abomination and setting it down on the floor. As soon as he stood up, the cat sprang onto the bed and curled up in the warm spot his body had vacated. He briefly considered scolding the cat, decided it wasn't worth the trouble, and made his meandering way to the closet for a fresh shirt.

"So, one planet down, several to go," Jade said at length, while he was navigating for the head-hole of a long-sleeve black shirt with the Midnight Crew bloody spade on the back. He grunted noncommitally.

"Any idea how many, exactly? I'm guessing since we're back here again, it's not one of the contended worlds." He finally popped his head out of the shirt and rammed his hands through the sleeves, making a cursory attempt to straighten his hair. Jade wasn't looking at him, but rather the cat, which was already off in dreamland.

She almost did a spit-take when she looked back toward Dave as she sipped her tea, covering her mouth with a hand and giggling. He frowned at her, looked down, realized the shirt was backwards, and grumbled to himself as he started to pull his arms back through the sleeves.

"It's not a world being attacked by the Darkness, no," she said after she composed herself. "This world is fairly well outside of the ring of worlds it's attacking, but close enough that we can essentially 'hop' back here between planets. It has an added benefit as well: In this world, you don't have Time Powers."

Dave thrust his arms back through his sleeves and brushed past her, heading for the kitchen. Jade followed halfway, sitting at the table covered in clutter from various music gigs while he ransacked the fridge.

"The fuck are we gonna call this thing, anyway? Every time someone says 'The Darkness' I wanna shoot a Magic Missile or something." He eventually came up with a pizza box with half a cold pizza inside. Frowning at it, he plopped the box onto the counter and began to methodically pick the olives off of the top.

"Well, there's really no name for it," Jade said after a moment. "It's basically a sentient nothingness. Like if shadows came alive, or a being composed of the absence of light." She sipped at her tea, and raised an eyebrow as Dave folded a slice of the pizza, now sans olives, and crammed half of the slice in his mouth.

"Tho effth a fthken bwack thwork thenn?" he eloquently murbled around the pizza, and she rolled her eyes. A few seconds later, he tried again. "So it's a fuckin' black smoke thing?"

"Basically." She set the mug down and got up as he stuffed the other half of the slice in his face, and plucked his next slice from his hand with a smile, sticking her tongue out at him in response to his annoyed look and taking a dainty bite of the broad wedge.

"Tho whrre--" *GULP* "--so where are we going next?" He returned to the fridge and rummaged a bit, grumbled something about 'man-laws', and cracked open the case of sodas on the counter, feeding cans into an empty space on the top shelf. He kept one and bumped the fridge shut with his hip.

"Don't know," she admitted. He paused in the middle of opening the soda as she picked up her second slice from the box. When did she eat the first one? "I do know that the worlds the Darkness is attacking first are all connected through the stories. It can't get to the others until it has control of the Prime World."

"So then, if I've told a story about a high school, a pirate ship, and Film Noir gangsters," Dave concluded, "And we just cleaned out the Film Noir world, that leaves a high school and a pirate ship." He punctuated his statement with the carbonated kchak of the soda can, and slugged it back, draining half the can in one go.

Jade nodded, chewing thoughtfully on part of the crust, all that remained of the slice of pizza. Fearing he might not get another if he didn't hurry, Dave snagged up another slice and crammed half of it into his mouth.

For a few moments, the apartment was silent, save for the sound of soda sizzling in the can, the sound of Dave's furious chewing, and the dull noise-music of the city outside. He finished his slice just as she finished her crust, and they stared each other down across the pizza box.

One slice remained.

If she moves first, I'm hosed. I'm still holding my soda, which means I can't deflect her hand and get the slice at the same time. But she's waiting for me to make my move, which means she knows she's got the advantage. She could easily block me. Plus, the lid's facing her, so she could easily pull it to move the slice, making me miss.

His eyes narrowed as he slowly set the can down on the counter behind him.

She gently pushed the lid of the box, rotating it so that she had an equally open shot for the slice.

As if on cue, the two of them dove for the pizza slice.

A black streak shot by, and both of their hands struck empty cardboard, their fingers interlinking at the point where the slice had just been.

Both of them stared as Mutie began to extricate the pepperoni slices and sausage chunks from the cheese, purring contentedly as he sat at the far end of the counter.

Dave and Jade shared a surprised look, which turned into a fit of laughter that echoed through the apartment.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Note: 'DJ Erscratzch' is a shamelessly kludged together portmanteau of 'Scratch' and 'Ersatz', pronounced 'Ur-scratch'. I considered myself incredibly witty for coming up with that on the fly, because the first name I came up with was 'DJ Caliber' as a play off of Lil Cal, but it didn't seem Dave enough.

As I was writing the pizza slice showdown, all I could hear in my head was a spaghetti western showdown whistle. I also briefly envisioned seeing the screen go all Kill Bill letterboxed EXTREME ZOOM eye shots as they stared each other down.

There is certainly something loose inside my head. I think it might be a screw, but for all I know, it might just be nuts.

After I wrote all that up, I promptly fell asleep in my computer chair like I got yarn-bonked from the aether. I have learned two things as a result:

1) I am surprisingly linguistically productive when I haven't slept in approximately 24 hours (although a conversation with me is likely to produce nonsense gibberish), and
2) My computer chair is a very, very uncomfortable place to sleep (despite the fact that I've now fallen asleep in it four times).

[Ember]

Red Pen. Red Pen, my heart feels all funny. What did you do?

"He's grasped on to his city the way she grasped on to her mailboxes, but now he doesn't know how to let go and he's lost the ability to tell that it isn't real."

"She is the last Prospitian in the multiverse. Her home is fire and death and blood and wreckage and snow-white corpses lying in the streets, and the only two people left in the world look like Jack Noir."

Oh God. Just. Need to hug all of them. Urgh.

[Nickie]

Procrastinating like crazy on Unhinged, so here, have a drabble.


Three Exiles, Slightly Broken

show spoiler

hide spoiler

-Sleep-

She wakes up screaming, and AR sits with his arms around her shoulders until her shrieks dissolve into sobs and she buries her head in his chest. It's still so early in the morning that the air is frigid and the stars glimmer distantly in the darkness. The small, dark shape of WV is huddled like an animal by the ashes of the fire he fell asleep tending to. He sleeps like he's dead, and no amount of screaming ever wakes him.

Part of her is glad AR is there, and part of her wishes he wasn't; she never had nightmares like this when she was alone in the desert. She'd been empty, isolated, cushioned by the luxury that was not remembering. Now she has to crack her jaded shell just to recall how to interact with other people, and when her walls come down, the memories and nightmares creep in.

They can't leave the fire unlit; the desert nights are too cold and there's a very real danger of freezing to death in their sleep. AR steps over WV and stirs the ashes with his bare hands. There's still some warmth beneath them, and he throws more fuel on the fire - broken slats from the crates stacked high in the temple that looms darkly over them. He breathes on the dead coals until they glow and catch the wood alight.

He'll sit up with her, if she'd like. But she'd rather go back to sleep, if only for a few more hours. She isn't afraid of nightmares.



-Eat-

They eat whenever they're hungry, out of cardboard boxes and the strange, rusted, temple machines, and the tin cans that she rather smugly pries open with her Regisword, showing off a bit for the others. The three of them sit in the cool, shady interior of one of the powerless stations, cross-legged on the metal floor and reveling in the fact that they can eat with their fingers and no one but AR will care, and even he grudgingly admits that it isn't as if they have any silverware.

Mealtimes seem lighthearted on the surface, but she knows it's only because she's trying not to think about how very broken they are. AR is careful not to spill, she notes, and he doesn't toss his garbage carelessly aside like the rest of them, as if it the cities of this post-apocalyptic world weren't already filled with trash. She used to wonder what he did with those neat little piles of empty cans and cartons until one day she saw him carefully burying them in the sand, in a neat little landfill he'd marked off with caution tape.

He's never really been hungry, and neither has she. She was lucky enough to find the wheelbarrow, and smart enough to plan ahead and pay attention and learn where to find food in the broken husks that had once been cities. On cracked sidewalks half-buried in sand she learned to open cans, and she feasted on syrupy fruit and spicy soups and piled them by the armful into her little pushcart so that she'd always have something for later.

They have to keep an eye on WV when they eat, because if they don't he'll just keep eating and eating until he makes himself sick. She doesn't know if it's some kind of compulsion or if he's just been hungry for so long that he can't remember what it feels like to be full. She doesn't want to ask what he's been through; what he was doing on nights when she was curled up with a full stomach, licking syrup off her fingers.



-Talk-

She's bad at conversation. Her mind darts around too much, trying to look for hidden aggression, trying to turn everyone into an enemy. She holds too many taboos and gets angry at too many subjects, and she feels like the world is just waiting to insult her. It makes the others uncomfortable, the way she jumps at sudden movement and draws her sword on anyone and everyone who approaches from behind her. At night when they sit around the fire and talk, she's too busy glaring at the flickering shadows to contribute.

AR and WV talk about anything and everything, as if they've known each other their entire lives. They revel in what she would call "arguing" but what they assure her is "debating." They bicker about law and government, and how they're going to rebuild civilization. WV insists that his newly-constructed world will have a new set of laws, tailored to aid the common man, and AR goes on about how the law is something sacred and can't be changed, and they dissolve into heated shouting matches that always end with the two of them drafting out yet another constitution in the sand.

AR's eyes go fever-bright when he talks about the law, as if it's a religion and he's been filled with holy fire. It isn't insanity, she reminds herself, any more than that wheelbarrow full of old, rusting mailboxes is insanity. When you'd lost everything, you needed something to grasp on to.



-Think-

She'd grasped on to the mail, if only to have something to do that kept her mind and her legs moving. She remembers a time when she'd spend days on end scouring the desert for scraps of paper, gathering them in her wheelbarrow and delivering them at random to the corroded boxes still peppering the cities. It didn't matter which went where, because there were no addresses anymore, and it was only something to do to keep her mind and her legs moving. Except sometimes she thinks it was more than that, because when she was delivering letters she could almost pretend that she was back on Prospit and the world hadn't ended in blood and fire.

WV is building a city out of cans. He happily devotes hours to stacking them atop each other, empty and full, whole and dented, and he makes bridges and skyscrapers and sidewalks paved with pop-can tabs. The desert sunlight catches it and turns it to silver, and it is precise and beautiful in its minutia. She wonders if he was an artist before the Reckoning. Farmer, he says. He's never seen a city.

She honestly can't tell if AR is helping or humoring him, but every so often he'll join in and add streetlamps and spires made of gleaming ammunition, and they'll argue some more about their constitution and whether or not the main throughway needs a strip mall. She finds it amusing, like some ridiculous game the two of them are playing, until one day she makes some innocent comment about wanting one of the pillars of City Hall for dinner and finds herself cornered by an enraged WV who can't believe she'd tear apart his city just so she could have something to eat.

It takes all her self control not to draw her sword on him then and there, but after she's taken a few deep breaths and managed to calm down, she sees the haze in his eyes and realizes that the line between fantasy and reality doesn't exist for him anymore. He's grasped on to his city the way she grasped on to her mailboxes, but now he doesn't know how to let go and he's lost the ability to tell that it isn't real.

She feels sick inside, and even with that scowl on his face she wants to reach forward and hug him, but she's not good at touching people and so she just turns and runs. She hides out in the temple for a while, and by dinner he's forgotten all about it.



-Love-

Every night, unless it's her turn to watch the fire, she sleeps next to AR, curled up in the hollow of his arms to absorb as much of his body heat as possible. "Not good at touching people" doesn't apply to him. Long after WV's fallen asleep, the two of them stay up and stare upward at the stars sparking in the blue-black sky.

Stars are new to her; they didn't exist in the empty blackness of the medium. She names constellations and he commits them to memory, until all she has to do is point at a cluster of stars and he can tell her what she's decided to call it. Silly names like "squiggly snake" and "giant spoon." Out here in the desert there is no smog, no city lights, and no clouds, and the stars go on forever, like a bottomless ocean filled with little glowing lights. AR ruins the magic a bit by wanting to count them all, and so far he's gotten to four thousand and thirteen. He hasn't even managed half the sky.



-Live-

The worst part, at the beginning, is being a Prospitian among two Dersites. She knows them, loves them, thinks of them as her only family in the world, and yet there are days when she can only see black and white - her pearly hand stark against ARs - and it makes her jumpier than usual and more prone to threatening them with her sword. They give her a wide berth when she's like this, even if they don't know why, and she finds herself wandering off to hide somewhere and cry.

She is the last Prospitian in the multiverse. Her home is fire and death and blood and wreckage and snow-white corpses lying in the streets, and the only two people left in the world look like Jack Noir. And she hates herself for thinking like that, and so she cries even harder and can't seem to stop, and when AR comes looking for her to ask her what's wrong, she throws her Regisword at him and doesn't even care when it almost impales his foot.

She's alone for a while, and then WV finds her. He sits next to her and gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, and offers her the can she wanted from his city.

It's full of apricots. They sit side by side in silence for a while and eat it together.

When they're done he lectures her about all the trouble he and AR had to go through to renovate City Hall. She smiles slightly and wipes her eyes, and tells him they're all just cans.

He smiles back at her, and tells her they're all just people.

Oh my god. This is amazing. Words cannot express how wonderful this is.

[Tezrial]

all the king's men

Replying in class (Yay databases!!!), so just popping in to comment on the following line:

Jade holds up her hand. “I have a flashlight.”

I am in love with this line. So in love with it. If I can't just marry you I will marry this line.

(I may draw this line. I may already have. 'Draw' may be an overstatement. I may be unable to draw.)

[PaulPower]

Right then, may as well finish this off.

Hammer and Nails, Part 2

Ironically, for something that's supposed to be John/Rose, the more dramatic bit of romance here is between Dave and Jade (going with the idea I thought of the other day that they'd somehow have a more... mercurial relationship.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

It wasn't long before John and Jade decided that they'd explored the ruins enough for now, and headed back over to them. Jadesprite went to sleep, and Jade woke up. John's dreamself vanished as it teleported back to his new home - Dad's campsite - and then he woke up as well.

"Right then," he said, his expression unreadable. For once.
"Find anything?" asked Dave, casually.
"Not really, no... but, you know. It felt like something we had to do."
"Like the salamanders?"
"Yeah, I guess. S'pose we'd better go to the camp."
"... actually, you and Dave go on ahead," said Rose. "I need to have a quick word with Jade."

John looked puzzled, but Dave took the hint, and started to steer John away. "Sure. Say, John, how's that Johnny Five robot working out for you?"
"Oh it's great, it's just like the real thing!..."

As they headed off, Rose turned to Jade. "I expect you're wondering what this is about."
"Actually, no!" said Jade, grinning. She tickled her sleeping sprite behind the ears. "Radioactivity-boosted dog hearing. I could hear you and Dave loud and clear! You weren't exactly keeping your voices down." Her grin froze when she caught Rose's expression. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything to John about it..."

Rose's face remained stony.

"Look, Rose... don't worry. Really. Pretty much everything Dave said was right!"
"You mean that?"
"Yeah! John... well, he's my best friend and my brother and yeah, I'd say that makes us close enough to hold hands. Doesn't mean there's anything to it in... y'know, that sense."
"Okay..." said Rose, dubiously.
"And Dave's right about other things, too."
"Oh?"
"Well, it's a bit of a funny confession, but... I am trying to push John towards you."
"Oh," said Rose, momentarily lost for words.

Jade looked away. "It's just... you know. I think you both need each other more than me. You've been through a tough time of it, lately."
"We all have. I'd say you've experienced an especially traumatic seqence of events."
"Yeah, but at least I was happy before that. And I'm sort of happy now. I lost my dreamself, but then I found her again. But John... well, he's getting better, but he still has problems. And I don't think they're problems I can help with, no matter how much I tell him I believe in him. But you can help. You already are doing, whenever you tell him that he's done something well. He takes that sort of thing more seriously coming from you, because you're Ms. Longwordy McSmartpants. And I don't think I need to say how much he's helping you!"
"No, no I suppose you don't," said Rose, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks.
"Also... you're right about something as well. Dave's a part of the... what's a quadrilateral, exactly?"
"Any four-sided shape."
"Oh, okay. I always wondered if they had like a name for all of them. But yeah, that's another reason not to worry. John's my best friend forever. He's a really nice guy. But... I dunno. I'd prefer someone with a bit more... self-confidence? And Dave has that in spades, even when he's at his worst. He's is just Mr. Cool Guy. Sooooo cooooooool!"

Rose chuckled. "I suppose he is. Although... are you sure that's a sensible basis to make a decision like that on?"
"No. It's a lot less sensible than anything you and John could come up with. But you know what that means? If I think it's worth going for just because I think Dave is Mr. Cool Guy, then you and John are a no-brainer."

Rose looked at her feet. "Okay, perhaps you're right. But... I really don't think they're ready for something like this. Well, Dave admitted as much to me, and... I think he's right about John, too."

"I know what you mean, but... I dunno. I still reckon we can get out of this, but it's possible that we might only have a few more hours to live. We need to make the most of this. I wish they weren't so clueless!"
"Well, they're boys. They don't exactly do subtle hints. They don't exactly do obvious hints. Maybe we should have some kind of competition to be the first to display an unambiguous sign of romantic affection," Rose said drily.
"Good idea! Race you!"
"Wait! Jade! I didn't mean that literally!"

But it was too late. Jade was already sprinting forward towards the unsuspecting boys. By the time they'd turned to look back, she had gone into a pounce. Maybe Dave was right. Maybe living alone with a dog all that time had turned her feral. But he hadn't predicted anything like this. Jade knocked him over, and the two of them tumbled over the chequerboard floor. Just roll with it and see what happens.... Dave's shades came flying off, and Rose saw for a brief moment the bewilderment in his eyes. He hadn't had time to panic. But then Jade kissed him. There was the panic.

John just stood there, jaw dropped, staring like something in the back of his brain had broken. Once more there was a discrepancy between reality and his personal model of the universe. It wasn't quite on the scale of finding out that his dad was just an ordinary businessman, but it was close.

"You okay?" Rose asked, as she caught up with him. He's still in shock. You couldn't make things any worse by... but no. John was worth more than that.
"What in the Hell is going on in here?"
"No idea," Rose lied. "Why don't we change the subject? How far is your Dad's place now?"
"Ummm... should be just over this crest, I think..."

As they crossed the top of the hill, Rose could see the tent that John's dad had set up. There was John's dad. There was Dream John, sleeping peacefully now having been teleported back to his new home. There was the bunny and its weaponry, the whole reason they'd com to Skaia in the first place. And there, coming back from guard duty with a powerful-looking gun in her hands, was...

"John! You never said my mother was here!"
"Um... yeah, sorry. She's been here with Dad pretty much all the time since my dreamself woke. I, uh, I didn't say anything because I thought it'd be a nice surprise for you."
"A nice surprise?"
"Yeah, I thought it'd help you out a bit. You know, with... stuff. Honestly I find it really helpful being able to talk to my dad down here when I'm dreaming. I think I've got a lot of my issues with him sorted out."

Rose shook her head. Of course John meant well, but... "That's because you never hated your father. You were confused and irritated by some of his interests, and you felt insecure from excessive devotion that you didn't think you deserved... but you always thought he was a decent person. And he always loved you. My mother... is different."
"Rose... are you really sure about that? Honestly, I've talked to your mom and she really doesn't seem all that bad. I think if she's got a problem, it's that she thinks she's a bad parent when it comes to quality time and stuff - well, maybe she is - and sheovercompensates by showering you with gifts. And... well... oh, man, how do I put this?"

There we go again, that pause before saying something she might find insulting. "Look, John, I've had any number of chances to be offended by your home truths. And yet I haven't been. Just be honest. It's what you're good at."
"... okay," said John, turning to look Rose in the eye. "You haven't made it any easier for her by being so closed-minded and always assuming the worst from her. I think that might have been what drove her to drink. I'm getting a bit fed up with quoting This Ocean Charles, but Barkley really hit the nail on the head with 'Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.' Your mom isn't the best mom, and I think she knows she isn't, but maybe, just maybe, you should try giving her the benefit of the doubt."

He could see that she was skeptical. "Look, we'll talk together, the four of us. You and me, Dad and Mom. I'd say Dave and Jade as well, but they still seem to be..." He looked over his shoulder. Dave and Jade had at least separated now, and were sitting up on the grass, Dave having retrieved his shades and doing his best to look composed. Sooooo cooooooool, thought Rose with a smirk. "Busy?" she finished.
"... yeah. Maybe it's for the best if they don't meet your mom just yet. Keeps it simpler."
"John... I don't know about this..."
"Come on, Rose. For me?"

He held his hand out. Had Dave said anything to him while she'd been talking to Jade?

Did it matter?

"Okay, John. For you."

Hand in hand, they headed down the slope to their parents.

[Metaflare]

I wake up to find SOO MUCH AWESOME WRITINGS. It's just like xmas!

[Sushi Database]

The Esoteric Adventures of Zazzerpan the Learned, part four

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Rose was knocked out of the bed suddenly, rubbing her face. What the hell. It felt like she'd been slapped by an invisible hand. Rose drew wands and braced herself against the bed as the invisible forced grabbed her again, shaking her wildly. A voice shouted in her face, distorted as if it was being heard underwater, but somehow... right in front of her. Rose! wake up please!"

She tried to brace herself against the force that kept shaking her. "Stop doing that! C-can you hear me? I cant wake up! I need your help!"

"Rose?"

"Yes, can you hear me? I'm in Derse, so-"

In front of Dave's bed, space shifted out of the way. Jaspersprite peeked through a hole in the fabric of space about four feet into the air. "Hi rose!"

Rose felt like she was going to pass out. "H-hi, Jaspers. I didn't... know you could do that."

"Yeah i'm pretty amazing like that!" Jaspers looked around, perhaps noticing that time seemed frozen here. It was hard to tell what Jaspers noticed. "Rose i'm sorry if i scared you or something but i didnt know what to do! you wouldnt wake up!"

"It's nighttime, Jaspers, and I've had... I'll admit it, I had a bit too much to drink. Don't repeat that to Mother. I appreciate your concern, but-"

"Rose you've been sleeping for two days!"

Rose felt her train of thought come to an ubrupt stop. "I what?" It seemed like this couldn't make sense. It had been, like, thirty minutes tops, and besides...

...wait, wasn't time frozen?

Rose didn't know how to put all this in context for Jaspers. Instead she struggled out "two days?!"

"Yes! i tried to wake you like over and over but you weren't answering! you need to eat and i need someone to make me tuna!"

"Jaspers, you don't need to-" she cut herself off. No point. She needed to eat. And until she completed her mission, she couldn't wake up. How could time not be frozen?

Unless they had frozen this room. Which meant it wasn't just her. Dave was in the dream too, and if time was passing normally on LOHAC, he was totally undefended and wasting away. And she had no idea how much faster time had been passing awakeside. The time with Shib-Nyugragoth had been difficult to quantify. Even thinking about it made her feel crazy. She realized that she and Dave were in serious trouble, and that Jaspers was staring at her as if expecting an answer to a question.

"I'm sorry, Jas. I was miles away. Um...?"

"I was saying that you can probably turn the light into food with your wands, right? so, i need you to do that!"

She stared at her cat. "What? I don't- like a plant? People can't do photosynthesis, Jaspers. It doesn't work that way."

"You can! you're the seer of light, rose, you just need to play the light!"

"Play the light."

"With your violin!"

Oh. Sound-based magic. When she thought of it that way it seemed a lot more reasonable. "I don't have my violin here, Jaspers, and my waking self cant play. Can you bring it here?"

Jaspers nodded. "Yeah i think so! i dunno i'm not sure how my spooky eldritch princess powers work"

"Try. It's on top of my dresser."

Jaspers disappeared and Rose waited. She didn't think there was any way she could get the cat to LOHAC. Her gates had been magically redirected to LOWAS in her ill-fated rescue attempt, and John's gates pointed back to her planet. A closed circuit. Could the sprite fly to another planet, without the gates? She felt like Jaspers existence was somehow dependent on this house, or at least her, to anchor it. He couldn't go that far away. Could he?

He had to. Dave's life depended on it. Rose didn't know how long it would take her to find her target in the underverse, but she was sure it would like longer than a few hours. And if two days had already passed... Dave didn't have long.

Jaspers emerged back from the hold he had torn in the incipisphere, considerately recycling his spacial anomalies. He cradled Rose's violin in his furry tentacles. "Here rose! i'll hold open the door to your house and you play to the light!"

This probably would work just like normal magic; the song would be the incantation. She tried to narrow down a theme appropriate and settled on one her mother had taught her. She stretched out her arm and raised the violin up to her chest, drawing the bow across the strings. Rose played the light.

It felt right, and now she knew what Jaspers had meant. Light, rain, life, dream, they were all patterns. Waves and structures that could be forseen and understood and changed. It felt right to be playing the rain. She could just imagine doing so much more, with just the right theme she could play a civilization of consorts back into existence. She could play a Denizen into oblivion. She knew she could, the magic called to her the same way it did when she called upon the Old Gods. The temptation to just solve her problem with more magic...

...no. She could only settle one dangerous magical contract at a time, and she wasn't prepared to make one with Sburb. The song had worked, though. She felt much more rested, and she felt like her hangover was gone. Perhaps it was just hunger, after all. "...thank you, Jaspers."

"Are you going to wake up soon rose?"

"...Probably not. I seem to be stuck dreaming here until my contract is fulfilled. I guess I'll be fine. I dont know how much nourishment I can get from sunlight, but it's magic, so... mm. Dave. Jaspers, Dave needs your help."

Jaspers looked truly surprised by this. "Really? but he's awesome!"

"He's stuck in this dream too, Jaspers, except he's frozen. I need you to fly to LOHAC as fast as possible and... feed him, somehow. He probably has food there, just... I don't know, figure something out. Spooky eldritch princess powers. You may need to keep him alive for a while to give me time to... uh. Journey through the afterlife."

"Oh. okay rose i guess i can do that!"

"You're sure? You can fly to LOHAC from my house?"

"I think so! sprites sort of get backdoors through the incipisphere that only we can use! i'm not supposed to talk about them, but only i can use it so it's probably okay."

She nodded slowly. She'd have to figure out if these "employee entrances" could be cracked with magic later. For now she had business to attend to.

"Okay, Jaspers. Just... hold out. I'll be back as soon as I can. Check in on me every now and then if you can, okay?"

"Okay, good luck rose!"

Rose walked towards the black space in the wall where the door to Dave's room would be and put her hand into the void. If that man had been telling the truth, this should be the way out and into the... afterlife, or whatever. It felt and smelled like the fake smoke firemen used for demonstrating fire drills. More like a thick fog than a smoke, really. Then she felt something- not a hand, but alive, grab her hand, and she was pulled into the black.

Red Pen: I always love seeing more carapace-fic, especially since it's so rare. This a brilliant character examination of the main three exiles. It makes me wonder if WQ is this damaged... or any of the troll exiles, for that matter.
VR: My favorite part is the pizzabattle. XD You cannot hope to beat Mutie in a last slice-off. He is simply the best there is.

[Shad]

Red Pen I love everything you write so far or at least what I've read. It isn't even that long and then so much emotion sob

I'm new to the whole reading fics and secretly writing some of my own but man this fandom is so full of great stuff I don't even know where to start
Seriously aaaa everyone's stuff seriously.

[Tenebrais]

I'm getting hooked on a lot of these fics as much as I am to the main comic.

I hope NV gets to get some drawing done soon for our collab. You guys are gonna love it.