Since my last post in "The community SBurb walk through" thread was not to the point and instead building up to something else, I decided to continue it as a completely separate fan fiction.
After the Combine Annihilation Part One
Originally Posted by ASBusinessMagnet
Show Final Trolllog
FUTURE aperturescienceBusinessmagnet (FAB) 20,351 HOURS FROM NOW started a memo on board SBURB 1.0 SESSION NO. 256.
FAB renamed the board to WINNING AGAINST THE COMBINE.
FAB: The title says it all
FAB: It's Seven Hour War and we are fighting against the Combine
FAB: They have a quantity million times higher but I have Portallic Trimille-Septet and the Universal Devastation Gun
CURRENT aperturescienceBusinessmagnet (CAB) RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
FAB: Wait for what
CAB: If the humanity wins whole Half-Life 2 arc would never happen
CAB: And Portal ORIGINATED from Half-Life 2 arc
FAB: That is the biggest piece of shit I ever heard
FAB: Why would my sweet loot stop the entire origination of me from existing
CAB: Just let the Combine win
FAB: No fuckin' way
FAB banned CAB from responding.
FAB: So yeah, I win with all my sweet loot, Half-Life 2 arc never happens, meaning Aperture Science will win before time
FAB: Of course against Black Mesa, not the Combine
FAB: We win, the new Half-Life 2 is based after the Portal backstory, it's a bigger win than I could imagine
FUTURE arachnidsGrip (FAG) 0:10 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.
FAG: Will you shut up with your text with a8solutely no 8s.
FAB: I don't need any fags here
FAB: Even if they choose to spell their nicknames leading to this pun
FAG: Why I'm a fag.
FAG: You're the 8iggest faaaaaaaag 8ever.
PAST arachnidsGrip (PAG) 6,912 HOURS BEFORE NOW responded to memo.
PAG: Just pointing out what I'm doing.
PAG: Will I 8e just like her.
FAB: Yes, you will be just like her
FAB: Now get out of my chat
FAB banned PAG from responding.
The sequence of events would cause FAG to be banned. Undoing.
FAB: It's always a puzzle
FAB banned FAG from responding.
FAB banned PAG from responding.
FAB: Now where did I stop
FAB: So Aperture Science Golden Age a thousand years earlier
FAB: And with younger me
FAB: Which means I'll have more of this life
FAB: This is win in every possible way
FAB: With all the "Fetch Modus Balltal" shit
FUTURE alterniantrollianceApocalypticmagnet (FAA) 10,000,059 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo
FAA: Wait a minute
FAB: Wait for fucking WHAT
FAA: You said in "The community SBurb walk through" thread that this is original timeline
FAA: Yet it seems to be the corrupted timeline
FAB: Why do all these PEOPLE have to TROLL me like they're fucking IDIOTS?!!!!
FAB banned FAA from responding.
FAB: For the shit's sake, I keep forgetting what I even wanted to SAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!
FAB: Oh yes
FAB: If I want me, corrupted me and Vriska to go on to attack, I need to go back in time, steal all the grist from Session #257 and use it to make more of these pieces of shits
FAB: See ya
PAST alternatetimelineBusinessmagnet (PAB) 0:15 HOURS BEFORE NOW responded to memo.
PAB: Here I am, in the past
FUTURE kizzyCocoa (FKC) 134,930 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.
FKC: just because you think I stole your grist you don't have to steal mine.
PAB: Will you shut up
PAB: I'm not the idiot from that past who thought you stole it
FKC: how it is possible?
PAB: It's in Portal 2: The Stupidest Sequel of All Time
FKC: there's no such thing in our universe, remember?
PAB: There's no WHAT?
FKC: it shattered like it was the rift and we got a new copy of...
FKC: let me read that...
FKC: fetch modus balltal 2: the most stacked queue of all time
PAB: Oh god, there's more things I need to change
PAB: What the hell is happening NOW
FKC: you launched all the shit faster than light
PAB: When did I even have TIME to do that?
PAB: I mean the FUCK?!!!!!
PAB: Well, that's going to take time
FKC: what's with this?
PAST alternatetimelineBusinessmagnet 0 (PAB0) 2:15 HOURS BEFORE NOW responded to memo.
PAB0: I went back in time some more
PAB0: Now just destroy the Fetch Modus Balltal artifacts before they cause this
PAB0: Fetch Modus Balltal: The 8th Swellennium - check
PAB0: Fetch Modus Balltal 2: The Fake Alternian Trolliance-Made - check
PAB0: What time loop instability I'm doing NOW
FKC: if you destroy the artifacts, you can't go regiciding like that.
PAB0: And how I'm going to avoid it?
FKC: wait, the stop of the regicide is a plus
PAB0: If only I could ban you
FAB banned FKC from responding.
PAB0: Now where did I stop
PAB0: Oh yeah
PAB0: Stealing the grist
PAB0: First make 1e63 gold for 1e63 build grist and steal it
FUTURE combineOverseer (FCO) 223,579 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.
FCO: remember what wa5 y0ur g0al fr0m the beginning
PAB0: What was it?
FCO: t0 win again5t the c0mbine
PAB0: Well guess what
PAB0: I have to make a million other things to achieve it
FCO: i 5h0uld 5ay well gue55 what
PAB0: You're on the side of the Combine
FCO: and i can 5e3 all the thing5 y0ure d0ing
FCO: all 0f them
PAB0: And it goes on and on and on
FAB banned FCO from responding.
FAB: I have a better plan
FUTURE alternatetimelineBusinessmagnet (FAB) 8,868,512 HOURS BEFORE NOW responded to memo.
FAB: Here I can have just one 1e63 piece of Gold and one piece of Build Grist
FAB: And then make a billion of them
FAB: And collect all of them at once
FAB: And then the timeline explodes, but I'm at another one fighting against these bloodsuckers
FAB's timeline exploded.
FAB: Finally an end to all these pieces of shits
FUTURE combineOverseer 0 (FCO0) 223,578 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.
FCO0: y0u will never pull thi5 0ff
FAB: How are you even able to TALK to me now
FCO0: im pe5tering an h0ur bef0re fr0m my per5pective but whatever time y0u have 5kipped int0 the future fr0m y0ur per5pective
FAB banned FCO0 from responding.
The sequence of events would cause FCO to be banned. Undoing.
FCO0: i win
FAB: What you win
FAB: We three already devastated the whole Combine
FCO0: there5 m0re
An unstable time loop has caused FCO0 to cease existing.
FAB: NOW who wins
PAST reepBlue (PRB) 10:47 HOURS BEFORE NOW responded to memo.
PRB: Why do you hate me.
FAB: My heart decides that I will talk to you
FAB: After I achieved my goal
PRB: You ruined the whole Blue Portals 2 story, destroyed the mod and now destroyed 0ver5e3r.
FAB: Fetch Modus Balltal is a million times better than Blue Portals, Portal 2:AAA and Prelude in one place
FAB: That place is called Session #257 and it's only ruins now
FAB: So I'm fine
PRB: You will pay.
FAB banned PRB from responding.
FAB: I won't
FAB: If I pay the best thing that can happen is my timeline ceasing existing
FAB: But since it's here (YET) I'm perfectly fine
FAB: Like I made an interdimensional crime and spread evil all over the world
FAB: But I don't pay
FAB: Because I have no sense of fear
FAB: Because I have a gift of believing in myself
FAB: Now to any people here, and any not here, bye and see you in next episode of Half-Life Portalized
FAB: Good night to whole world
FAB: Good night to the Incipisphere too
FAB closed the memo.
The 20122013 Business Magnet achieved his goal. The Seven Hour War was won, and therefore whole Half-Life 2 arc had Portal: The 4th Millennium painted all over it.
The 2013 Business Magnet, along with his corrupted timeline self and Vriska Serket, was sitting in his and his friends' "office" at a 200 m-high spire with his house, the Pyramid Structure, a land mass, the Constellation Rocket and chunks of Land of The Fake Community-Made. And then suddenly his own computer (there were three for each of the people) started acting up.
- arachnidsGrip (AG) started trolling aperturescienceBusinessmagnet (AB) -
He immediately looked at where Vriska was sitting. No, she did not start trolling him. But if it was not Vriska from this time, from what time she was trolling?
AG: Trollian must 8e a total f88888888l.
AG: When I added you to my chumproll, a 8ridge in my timeline appeared s8ving me from the Rift.
Oh, so she's from before the Rift. Okay.
AB: I guess that's because of a whole line of events that would start at my house at 31st March, 2012 and end right now
AG: 31st March, 2012?
AG: What d8 is it?
AB: I guess you're using some different calendar from our human one
AG: I'm interested.
AB: The big number (2012) is the year
AB: Our years have 365 days, save for leap years, which have 366
AB: These leap years occur when the number of year is divisible by 4
AG: W8, so 2012 is one of them?
AB: Then these years are divided into months
AB: The first one, January, has 31 day
AB: The second, February, has 28 days on most of the years but 29 on leap years
AG: And March is?
AB: The third one
AB: It has 31 day
AB: Which means that from the beginning of 2012 to the time you appeared here 91 day has passed
AG: So, if March is ending like the Rift, what next month we will 8e in?
AB: That one has 30 days
AB: The first is commonly known as April Fools' Day
AG: What's so special about it?
AB: People lie all over the place
AG: It seems we don't have such a day.
AB: How sad
AG: Oh god.
AG: It's 8eginning.
AG: The Rift.
AG: If only I could say one l8st thing.
Connection with AG lost.
And the 2013 Business Magnet perfectly knows that at this point, she and her lusus were teleported near his house, the lusus was electrocuted, Vriska proceeded to live in the house, they started playing Sburb 1.0, after seven months of bullshit made two devastative devices, went back here and beat the Combine.
"This is pointless."
The current Vriska proceeded to answer: "What?"
"I was talking to "arachnidsGrip" from the past JUST before the Rift, and now it happened. I can't tell more without showing the log."
*reads the log*
Suddenly the whole house started to fall. Oh god, it's happening.
And then a Combine Citadel emerged just below the house, firing it and resituating it two miles above the ground.
"Just throw the Trimille-Septet." Both Vriska and the Business Magnet rolled a bunch of dice with the result being 6014 3007's, which fired the Citadel and the house back down.
Of course the "Seven Hour War" had to last seven hours, and by now it was just one.
Well, I DO hope to get on with this and move on to epicness.
Well, the latest page inspired me to write this thingy.
"What the hell?!" Vriska, blue with fury, exclaimed to her companions huddled around a big screen. "I leave for like a few minutes and when I get back, you guys hogged all the space! How am I supposed to fit my epic king-sized spider-shaped constellation in here?"
"You think you have it bad?", Karkat sneered. "Look at the space I have to work with."
"Well, maybe we'd have more if Equius didn't feel the need to waste a shit-ton of room on his funky creation", Eridan muttered. "What the hell is it even supposed to be? A bowman? A musclebeast? For me it looks like crappy bagpipes, if anything."
"Look who's talking!" Terezi's voice was shrill and mocking as usual. "Yours is even bigger! And I can't tell what it depicts either!"
"Well, Feferi's even bigger than mine!" Eridan snapped back. "Hell, it's the biggest! Sorry, Feferi, I didn't mean to offend you..."
"To be frank," Sollux spoke, "I think you're all being retarded. You're wasting effort and stars on making random designs which don't resemble anything. At least my constellation does look like a thing. See? They're twins hugging each other."
"This is hard!!" Nepeta complained. "The controls are weird! It's really hard to make any recognizable shape. But I think I did pretty well with my one!"
"Oh yeah? And what is it? A coat hanger?" Karkat asked.
With a beaming smile, Nepeta answered:
Morthol Dryax on Formspring / My chumhandle's hourslongBrouhaha, have fun "talking" to me since I'm never online!
I remembered today a couple of arts in the last thread that Arcana did. (it was the two queens as kids) I put it in the art thread but then I realised it might be more suited here!
>__ Be the queen
You are now the QUEEN OF DERSE, or at least, you will be in the future! For now you are just a little princess with a future chance at the throne. Your name is DAWN QUALTROUGH, and while today is of no particular importance for you, your PARENTS have been having quite a busy day indeed! They have been searching out the various DENIZENS that reside in the planets between YOUR HOME and PROSPIT, making DEALS with them, and trying to bring them to your side when the ACCURSED FOREIGHNERS arrive to their planets. Efforts have been very rewarding indeed, and the rulers of the planets have even exchanged GIFTS OF GOODWILL to each other.
Your HOBBIES include MUSIC, MAKE-BELIEVE with your TOYS, and learning about being a future RULER OF DERSE. You also hope to one day make peace with the PROSPITIANS, who do not seem to be all that bad of a people. Your parents, however, seem determined to instill a different belief in you.
I haven't come to the fora in a while, and I've already posted this elsewhere, but... thought I might as well add my first-ever Homestuck gen fic to the mix!
Parcel Mistress self-consciously grasped the medal pinned to her chest and scanned the ornate ballroom. Aside from White Queen and her tag-alongs, it was filled with award recipients much like herself: clerks, artists, bakers even. She couldn't remember the significance of the honour or even its name, but didn't feel that these details were relevant to her -- not when she was unable to comprehend deserving an award at all. Hadn't she only fulfilled her birth-right? Still, she wasn't going to pass up a chance to get some face-time with the queen. Getting to know her was least as good as being chummy with nine other pawns.
"This has come far too late, Parcel Mistress," WQ said with a playful smile. "The fact that it's taken this long for your name to come my way, and that I've had to fend off an inexhaustible supply of beguiling self-promoters all the while, is... unfortunate. You deserve recognition more than anyone else in this room."
"Uh, I am grateful! Your Majesty. I'm very flattered," PM stuttered, limply shaking WQ's hand. Her protocol was rusty, but it seemed she was getting good feedback with her style. WQ nodded to her handlers; they quickly left the pair and busied themselves with other things.
"I want to know you better. You may not believe that I am a 'personal monarch', as the scholars like to write, but I am dedicated to fostering close relationships with my subjects... especially one as effective and loyal as you."
"I'm honoured, Ma'am, but -- why me? With all due respect and humbleness, I don't think I'm really that special," PM waffled.
"Your reputation has travelled with your name: Parcel Mistress of Prospit, she of tenacious determination and yet unflappable morals, fastidious propriety and yet exemplary ingenuity. Don't you agree with that assessment of your character?"
PM didn't answer, only averting her gaze.
"I'm taking the time because a position in my court opened just as your name became known to me," the queen continued, "and I would very much appreciate it if you considered accepting the appointment. I am aware that it is a significant increase in the scope of your duties. But you have already proved yourself capable of the impossible..."
WQ called her handlers and prepared to move on to the next honouree. She turned to the nonplussed Mistress one more time.
"Please, do not feel pressured to respond immediately. However, a quick reply would be appreciated."
"Your work is meaningful to me, but our cooperation cannot continue until you accept the committed terms of your command and put to good use the brilliant mind that you present so clearly in writing..."
PM transcribed these words to paper with practiced speed. They capped off a series of phrases that, while very flattering, came across with a wholly intentional air of condescension.
Upon hearing her letter read back to her, WQ sighed and walked up to the window of her reading room. Prospit unravelled below her, resplendent in white and gold against the dark Incipisphere. PM found the view from this room indescribably, subliminally pleasurable, but WQ didn't appear to share the feeling. If anything, she seemed oddly displaced, as if the world she inhabited wasn't actually her own. Ballroom conversation excepting, she was as distant as PM had expected.
At first, she barely acknowledged her newest servant; the only appreciable changes in PM's day-to-day routine were an increase in clerical work and a phenomenal unpredictability in the length and location of her mail run. The Prospitian palace was a damn slight better place for a pawn than the Dersite one, but there was a challenge in rising so many stations at once. Even she would admit to being run a little ragged: it was a constant barrage of messages to far flung parts of the kingdom, constant invitations to graft and corruption, unbecoming advances and general disrespect. Her down-to-board, tube-spun straightforwardness was a terrible match for her new duties, and the officials she encountered made no secret of it. Perhaps the Queen was lying about her reputation being well-known.
Then again, PM knew that her treatment would've been worse had the Queen not eventually made clear that she was destined for her retinue. But, although her situation improved, their relationship did not thaw too much. WQ liked her, sure, and was appreciably kinder to her any other pawn, but she was not above putting her to use as a mortar between the bricks of her other, less competent servants. She was asked to prepare small meals while the cook was away, requested to entertain dinner guests when the Queen was held up, and even required to deliver urgent messages to the King on the battlefield at risk of life and limb. She took to these tasks gladly and never complained, because beneath it all, WQ was still holding back on something. PM knew there was something that she'd wanted to say since the beginning that, before it made its way out her mouth, always mutated into some sort of order or demand. PM wanted to find out what it was.
"It's a lot of rubbish, isn't it?" WQ said.
PM wrote that down too, blushing when she realised that WQ was only making conversation.
"No, not at all! It's very well composed."
"Throw it out. I'm not happy with it."
"Ma'am is trying to pump up his ego, right? That's what I'm getting from it," PM said, without complying to WQ's request.
"Yes, that is my aim, but I am considering if it's something we should lower ourselves to... if you understand. You see, he is concerned primarily with egos and posturing and toying with the system, which is fine. He, like many, is a man of that type. But men of that type have to accept their place within our system as social butterflies, amoral merchants and mid-level bureaucrats. Men of that type are ill-suited to serve as front-line generals, and I should not be playing games with a man of that type if he has so overstepped his bounds.
"I should have recalled him a long time ago, but... inertia is a powerful force in this kingdom. Trying to accomplish something is like drowning in a bucket of sand."
"Ohh, I'm so sorry Ma'am has to go through that, but it's tough for all of us and we should never lose sight of our duties." PM flinched, knowing that that sentence could not possibly come over well. She took mental stock of the opulent surroundings with the expectation that it would be her last happy memory. WQ, however, did nothing more than stop pacing and sit down in the chair beside PM.
"You and I, and possibly the King."
"P-pardon me, your Majesty?" PM stuttered, discovering that her tongue had apparently doubled in size.
"We are the only living people here... did you notice? I realised you would understand this as soon as I saw you. Did you think I would waste so much breath on anyone else?" WQ said, not appreciating PM's confused expression.
"I... I thought Ma'am did that for everybody."
"There are dedicated citizens and beautiful ones, of course, but in you... I saw something greater than your stated purpose. You might not know yet, but I am certain you are destined for something beyond the call of duty. That's the only reason I wanted you here. All I ask is that you listen."
WQ took PM by the hand and gripped it tightly. Her eyes shut in thought.
"My deepest apologies, but I am a little overwhelmed!" PM said. "What else is there 'beyond' here?"
"I daren't ask this of anyone else, because our kingdom is otherwise inhabited by shambling automatons: what are our duties, Miss Messenger, and to what end do they serve? I would be pleasantly surprised if you can find more meaning in them than I can."
"I... I've been told we are working towards betterment of Prospit and the defence of Skaia."
"That is a pithy sentiment, but no truer than the hateful words in the letter you're writing."
"I don't understand. We know what we're doing from the very beginning, right? From Veil to Skaia. Why would Ma'am, of all of us, have doubts?" PM asked with growing distress.
"Because Skaia cannot be saved and our planet can never be preserved -- at least, not by our hand. We answer to forces entirely outside of our control, and that is fine for most. But I've always found that my capacity for a purposeful existence far outstrips the purpose given to me. The chances are not in our favour but we press ahead anyway. But no one knows what's on the other side. It seems as though I was the only one to ask," WQ said with a noticeable edge in her voice.
"Forgive my rudeness, Ma'am, but I choose to believe we can win this and get the reward that good people get when they defend what is right!" PM replied with familiar words, but they failed to soothe her mind.
"I believe we can win too, Miss Messenger, but even if we do, the victory will not be ours. There's nothing for us at the end. It's a little difficult to explain, but you'll find out in due time. We both will, and no one else. I strongly suggest that you follow me closely from now on so that you're ready when that time comes and we need to... leave. Please understand." WQ attempted to calm PM, but she wasn't having any of it.
"Are you telling me that everyone will die except for us, that we're going to be exiled and there's nothing we can do about it? That's what you believe in?" PM stood up out of her chair, as if preparing to defend herself. "I am very sorry, but I will not give up everything I've done just because you have some half-baked doubts!"
"I only wanted to warn you of my misgivings about our shared future, but it looks like I've made a hash of it, haven't I? Leave, immediately, and hope that I don't punish you for speaking to me that way."
"I'm going to let your valet know you probably need some help, because you're not thinking very clearly!"
WQ grabbed a capped inkpot off the end-table and hurled it into the wall, speckling PM with black ink.
"Get out of my sight," WQ hissed.
The White King took a seat next to PM on a bench in the palace garden. He kicked at the gardening implements that laid at her feet and cleared his throat.
"She is sorry for her outburst, but her point stands."
"You too, your Majesty?"
"She's a complicated being -- it was a stroke of awful luck for her to be released from the tube with that kind of insatiable curiosity. See, I take events one by one, and I know that I may die in the very next moment, or in battle, or never at all. But she's decided she needs to find out how this all ends beforehand, and... I think she's right in what she found. I'm not bothered, though, and I can't fathom why she would be. Me, I think it's just who we are. She accepts that I'll never understand but for some reason she's dead set on you 'getting it', which is why she's so upset... listen to me babble on. I just wanted to tell you she forgives you, but hopes that you'll come around."
"I don't understand, Sire. I have my doubts, but to accept that this is all for nothing and we have to exile ourselves to survive... it's hard to accept!"
"I wish I could provide more guidance, but as I said... I am not thinking nearly as far ahead as you and the Queen are. This is between you and her. There will be a chance for you to meet up with her at the ball, and she wanted me to let you know she would appreciate it if you were there."
"I... I'll try, Sire. I am eternally thank--"
"No, stop. Don't take it personally, but I'm sick of hearing stuff like that. I'm not a god."
WK got up to leave, but stopped, apparently remembering something important.
"One more thing. She's told me in detail about you, and she's really very taken. If she does choose to connect with you in that most familiar way..."
"I'm sorry, what?" PM turned red as her mind wandered to an inappropriate place, only to get even redder as she realised WK was thinking the exact same thing.
"If it happens," he chuckled. "I'm not saying you have to follow through, but if it happens, please keep it discreet. Follow the proper protocols in public. It's all I ask: for you to keep her happy and to keep me not looking, well, like a idiot. Just a small courtesy I ask of you."
PM found herself once again in that most unnatural of places for her -- the ballroom -- and looked over the crowd. She knew her days at this stratum of society were limited and decided to cash in her connections at least once before her departure. The tailor had done a wonderful job, creating for PM a simple lilac dress, excellent in colour against her own carapace, one she could wear close to her body without changing its shape and without obstructing graceful movement. That is, if she wasn't too terrified to move. She resembled a particularly attractive statue more than anything, and the young men of society had long since given up trying to get her attention.
PM saw WQ at the other end of the ballroom. She was clad in a tasteful black dress, low-cut and exposing the shoulders, giving particular contrast to the pendant she wore around her neck. Against the far gaudier colours of her court, she stood out in a most remarkable and beautiful way. PM felt her heart make an attempt to leap into her throat. A thousand terrible situations flashed through her mind, but as WQ approached they fell one by one. The Queen took her hand and kissed it. PM bit her lip.
"Please accept my apologies, Peacemaking Messenger. I have confidence that you'll find your own way. I accept that it is not within my control."
"I am forever grateful for your Majesty's understanding," PM whispered. "I suppose... I am no longer in employ of the court?"
"Unfortunately, I would be too tempted to try to convince you again," WQ said, smiling that kind smile PM remembered so well. "I'm sure you agree that you'll be happier just doing your rounds. Until the right time comes."
PM smiled back. "Thank you."
WQ suddenly pulled her into the crowd -- the music was starting to play. PM was a bit confused, but she quickly came to realise WQ only wanted one last moment before ending things. The pair had an audience before long, as people stopped mingling to watch WQ and PM together.
"Shame to him who thinks ill of this," WQ said.
She invited PM to the waltz. After she accepted, WQ wrapped her arm around PM's waist and gracefully guided her through the proper steps...
"You have strange dreams, Miss Mendicant," WQ deadpanned, filling up PM's dented champagne flute with well-preserved sparkling wine. PM took some of the sweet elixir, letting it fizz pleasantly on her tongue. It provided welcome relief from the relentless heat of the desert.
"Yeah... I'm sorry that my mind thinks you're such a jerk. I'm weird like that! I get mad at how I can be guarded and really indecisive, so I guess I had you take it out on me."
"Well, in case you need to be reminded, I'm not angry at all. Even my dream self forgave you. You're the best friend I've ever had, and, well, if anyone should be blamed it should be me. When I first came down here, every night I would just relive the terrible experience of being cut loose... I dreamt I was tossed off the ship onto the sand, and just left there to die."
"That's awful. I'm really sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. My subconscious has been much kinder to me. That's the best things about our memories -- they can be soothed."
WQ climbed into the foam-lined crate where PM was sitting and embraced her tightly, kissing her on the cheek. She took a sip of her own wine while toying idly with PM's tattered wrappings.
"So that was mine. What's yours?" PM said puckishly.
"Alright, this one might be tricky so, please, stop me if you feel uncomfortable."
"I remember that you had put on the ring, and were fully prototyped. You had me cornered in the royal chambers..."
So, I was looking through the fan art thread, of which I am only 40 pages in, and saw the influx of trollsonas. I'd write a trollsona but that would be a bit selfinertiony.
Mine would have an anhk horn and a eye of horus-like horn.
Something I guess. Involves OC, OOC and OOOOOOOOOOOC (Out Of Obstinately Obnoxious and Oxygenated Oxymoronic Overreacted Orthodontic Orthogonal Oligiocenic Oceanic Occitan Characters?). Oh and CH3 some of the time too.
413 Stories L1: GelostiBokan
Sender () Action (^) Message ()
AG : Doroesteeeeeeee.
GIV : Ah, Ms. Elongated Vowels. Queries on the rationale of contacting me?
AG : Ms. Elgonated Vowels? What an idiotic name.
AG : My name, if you haven’t read a 8ook, is Vriska.
AG : Vriska Serket.
GIV : So it shall be, Ms. Serket.
GIV : Still, comments on your elongated vowels travel far.
AG : You remind me
AG : Of a certain man.
AG : One that I don’t want to think about.
GIV : And who will that be?
TELFE : Me. Of course.
TELFE : Although my anonymity seems to be stripped here.
TELFE : TELFE is what, exactly?
AG : Ha! Serves you right, you stupid manipul8ve 8east.
GIV : Now, now. Restrictions on verbal conflict must be imposed.
AG : And what is with you, then, making words longer than Kanaya’s?
AG : You just so want to talk to her.
AG : I’ll get her in a minute.
GIV : Hang on, what?
TELFE : Wait for 10:2.
GIV : Yeah, sure. I’ve got the time.
GA : What Is The Problem Here
GA : Why Am I Summoned Here
GIV : And you must be the aforementioned “Kanaya” 7thing?
GA : The Way You Stated That Makes Me Somewhat Uncomfortable
GA : Don’t Do Anything About That Seven
GA : I Am Not Of The Seventh Gender If That Is What You Are Hazarding
GIV : Records show otherwise.
AG : See? 8ig words. I told you two will fit peeeeeeeerfectly.
GA : We Seem To Have Different Types Of Loquaciousness If That’s What You Meant
GIV : I’m not loquacious; I just use word order a little unconventionally.
TELFE : Does this even pertain to me?
TELFE : I’ll be back after a certain period of time.
TELFE : It all depends.
TELFE Status = –1
GA : GIV, If That Shall Be Your Name
GIV : No. It’s Doroeste.
GA : Very Well Then Doroeste
GA : There Is Something You Must Know
GA : Kalšunay Has Received Intelligence Of A Certain Planet Being Invaded
GA : I Do Not Know What Is Said Planet’s Name
GA : It Seems That That Data Is Restricted
EKD : Not really. Ask around! Look for answers!
GIV : Why didn’t you tell me anyway?
EKD : Because I forgot.
EKD : Call me clumsy.
GIV : Clumsy!
GC : 1 SM3LL THE N33D FOR 1NFORM4T1ON
GC : TH4T SUNR1SE R3D
GC : 1TS 1RR1S1ST4BL3
GIV : So apparently you told
GIV : Terezi
GIV : Of the planet!
GIV : I don’t know how you mistake us, with wildly different colors and names!
EKD : Yeah like whatever.
EKD : Does not matter now that you know who holds the key now does it?
GIV : I suppose that’s true.
GIV : So, Terezi, what shall be the name
GC : 1T 1S
GC : OH GOD TH1S 1S H4RD
GC : 3L3SK1STOKÁSO
GC : HOW DO3S ON3 PRONOUNC3 THAT >:?
GIV : Eleskitokáso? It’s just how you say it.
GIV : Elle-skit-o-ca(r)-so.
GIV : Pretty simple, isn’t it?
GC : HMM
GC : 4PPAR34NTLY 1T 1S SOME K1ND OF S3CR3T M1L1T4RY B4S3
GC : 4ND 4LSO 4 R3SORT 1SLAND
GC : THOSE TWO TH1NGS JUST DON’T GO TOG3TH3R
GC : 1TS L1KE K4RK4TS BLOOD AND W4TER
GC : EUUGGH
GIV : That one!
GIV : EKD, just how do you manage this thing!?
GIV : You give these things to some odd girl way out in Alterniyë, and not me!?
EKD : Look I said I was sorry.
GIV : My rage is rampant!
GIV : But in any case, write on.
GC : TH4TS TH3 3ND OF TH3 P4P3R
GC : OH NO
GC : TH3 B4CK R34DS
GC : “FOR MOR3 1NFORM4T1ON PL34SE CONT4CT T4VROS N1TR4M OF 189 K3LTR3ST3 STR33T, 4KOR3NS3, 4LT3RN1Ÿ3.”
GC : TH4TS NOT HOW YOU SP3LL 4LT3RN14 >:[
GIV : Phonetic spelling. It’s important.
GIV : But in any case, boss, why!?
EKD : …
The original is this one; I don't know how to change from HTML to BBCode. Word to HTML: Easy. HTML to BBCode: Hard.
Karkat and the Chocolate Factory
Part 3: Wherin the proprietor of the chocolate-making establishment is revealed. Karkat continues to rage as before. The parody becomes increasingly strained but less meta. Several dolls burst into flames attempting to rap.
The gates screeched open. The contestants stepped inside, and the gates shut again.
They were alone.
The doors to the chocolate factory opened. A tiny carapaced being poked his head out. Perched precariously on the tiny things head was a massive tower of hats, several of which looked as if they belonged to a clown of some sort. Vriska snorted.
The thing bumbled down the steps like a toddler, almost tripping himself up three times during his descent. Finally, he reached the contestants, all of whom were thoroughly annoyed by this point, save Gamzee, who looked as if nothing had happened.
"Mr. Nitram will see you now!" Squeaked the little thing. It turned away and began walking towards what looked like a garage, but with curtains hanging over it. The contestants trailed behind the thing until they reached the garage, where the being took it's leave, bowing before scuttling back off into the factory.
Several long minutes passed. The sweltering heat of the alternian night was oppressive. in no time, Equius had used all of his towels and Karkat was fuming. Then the curtains drew open, with some fanfare echoing from inside. Inside of the garage- no, theatre, were several puppets. The one in the forefront bore a flashy gold chain and a backwards baseball cap. The blue T-shirt that adorned his chest read CAL in bold white letters. One of the eyes glinted, but nothing had moved.
And then, everything did. The puppets stood themselves up and began to sing:
Yo, listen up.
They call me Lil' Cal,
I'm a little man
Wit' the grand plan
We doin' dis like Japan
We got bots up in here
(bots up in here)
Been here since the new year
(since the new year)
But we be hangin'
Cause mother-F'in Tavros got cash
he a pig!
but he dope
Just like a big bro
to us dolls
Hell yeah, now we rollin'
We in the hot cars
like nottin' ya seen befo'
Lil' Cals cohorts burst into flame. The inferno reached tendils of smoke into the dark altrnian sky. As for Lil' Cal himself...
The doll just disappeared. He blurred for a second and then he was just gone. Behind the group, someone clapped.
"oH, BRAVO! bRAVO! i CERTAINLY, uHH, eNJOYED THIS! bRILLIANCE IN IT'S PUREST, uHH, fORM, dON'T YOU THINK," Said Tavros Nitram. He had donned a quite outrageous purple suit for the occasion, complete with a top-hat, which he doffed as everyone spun around to gape at the famous candy-maker.
"i KNEW lIL' cAL WOULD BE, uHH, a ISSUE THOUGH, bAD DECISION ON MY PART," continued Nitram. He looked at the contestants with a great, flashy, sharp-toothed smile.
"aND WHO MIGHT YOU CHILDREN BE, hMM, i THINK cONTESTANTS, uHH, rIGHT," Asked Nitram in his slow way.
Karkat wanted to tear his own spleen out and beat himself with it. Today was going to be a long day.
Can I just say that I love each and everyone one of you here? And I really mean it too.
The writing in this thread is incredible. It's a damn shame that I have such long lapses in catching up with this thread, because otherwise, I would be checking these updates as much as I do for the actual comic.
Just...thank you. All of you. I really don't know what more to say besides that.
Originally Posted by Dastreus
ToreaderTornado is Lord English and LE is busy being Spades Slick, who is everyone. ToreaderTornado is everyone because ToreaderTornado is the dreamer.
Originally Posted by Varkarrus
IT'S FUN TO STAY AT THE
Originally Posted by MayorSillyBiscuits
Originally Posted by Tesseract
Originally Posted by Varkarrus
Originally Posted by ToreaderTornado
Originally Posted by The One Guy
I am the bullhornedAirman .
Avatar courtesy of apatheticZombie
Took me about a year to notice the typo. How long did it take you?
I expect much fanfiction to be written about the most recent [S].
I've already got an idea.
[EDIT] Wrote it up!
This is possibly a prologue for a longer story.
Karkat excitedly scrolled up and down through a display of four brightly colored timelines, trying to decide on which one to single out. Sollux had just set this up- the timeline interface wasn’t new, but the timelines he was seeing were. These four timelines were their last hope of redeeming his and his eleven friends’ lives; the people they were connected to were the orchestrators of the trolls’ demise. He knew exactly what he was going to do with these people, too. He was going to troll the ever-living fuck out of them, make them pay for the scratch they had and would orchestrate.
Earlier, he’d heard from Tavros, who had already begun trolling the four children, that the blue one- ghostyTrickster, AKA ectoBiologist- was the leader of the group, and so immediately Karkat claimed the right to troll him. He remembered saying it was only logical- since he himself was the leader of the Troll group, he would have better knowledge of what he was going through and thus troll him more effectively. Really, though, he just wanted to verbally kick that shitbag up and down the street for doing this to his friends, his family, and him. Finding the near-end of the blue timeline, Karkat quickly clicked on the line and opened up the viewport, to see the infamous ectoBiologist at the moment of his arrival on Earth.
For a moment, he was dumbstruck. There was nothing that Karkat expected to see, other than the crater; but the little creature’s disgusting visage was almost horrifying. He was pink-skinned, with big blue eyes, a round nose, and a stupid-looking overbite, dressed in only a piece of cloth wrapped and pinned around his lower body, and seated on top of a strange old book. And to complete the effect, the whole package was right on top of a seemingly adult specimen of his species, face-down and dead as a doornail. It was disgustingly fascinating, and Karkat’s face contorted in revulsion.
Karkat slowly scrolled forward, through the boy’s life. He observed his father finding and adopting him, him becoming acquainted with his new home- particularly the strange bouncing green ride in his backyard. He saw the boy ride it, gleeful, until he built up too much momentum and flew off, landing with a spectacular fall. As young ectoBiologist cried, Karkat watched in awe as bright red blood seeped out of a scratch on his pink knee. A knot came into Karkat’s chest as he realized: he’s like me.
Onward he scrolled, seeing the child happily interact with his guardian, making food, learning a strange keyed instrument, being hit in the face with other foods, and the scowl on Karkat’s mug grew harder and meaner, till he was nearly seething at the screen in uncontrollable rage. This idiot, this evil moron was the cause of all his SGRUB-related troubles, and didn’t even have the back-breaking hardships Karkat had been forced through. No dead lusus, no culling, no terrible blood hierarchy, no out-of-place feelings, nothing. EctoBiologist was completely carefree, and in being so, was everything Karkat hated.
Boiling, seething rage built up and bubbled inside Karkat’s seventh bile duct, but seemed to be unable to be expressed; all Karkat had on his face was a dumbfounded expression. He’d never felt this intensely pissed off at such a swill-brained nooksniffer before, and this amount of hate was a little bit unsettling.
The only time he could remember being even close to this much emotion was when he was arguing with, banning and re-banning his future and past selves. But even those times were incomparable to this inferno inside him now.
Soon, he was up to the point where the boy, who he now knew was called John Egbert, was actually playing the damned game of SBURB. Face blank, he saw John scramble throughout his house trying to retrieve the game, the floor plan memorized by now; he watched him struggle with the Cruxtruder, puzzle over the Kernelsprite, and finally, just barely, save his ugly, normal home from the oncoming meteor.
Karkat felt his seventh bile duct jump up into his throat, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming at the computer. Why did you do this? Why did you do this to my friends?? Why did you do this to ME?! I wish I had never created your universe, you slimy son of a bitch, you… you…
Suddenly he was aware of the bright, hot feeling under his cheeks. His eyes readjusted, and in the reflection on his computer screen, he could see his gray cheeks turning red. The only other time this had really happened was when he and Terezi had… had their moment, on her planet. It dawned on him, then, that the amount of pity he’d felt for Terezi in that instant was almost as much as the hatred he felt coursing through him now. His cheeks went redder as he watched his reflection and the odious John Egbert trying on one of the presents he’d found. He swallowed hard, watching with mixed emotions- awe, hate, and… relief.
God I can't stay mad at Noir.
He's like when a tiny puppy murders a squirrel and brings the corpse into your house as a present to you and it's wagging its tail and is SO PROUD of itself.
Then it goes into your house, tears your couch apart, and shits on all of your carpets.
John looked around, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the dank cave. Oil or perhaps slime dripped from the ceiling, making a sticky splat sound with drop. He readied the Wrinklefucker, listening closely. Yes... he could hear the rhythmic rush of air just ahead. His mouth was dry and his hands were sweaty.
The Denizen was here.
The boy rushed into the next room, waving both hammers around wildly, yelling and smashing everything in sight. After a moment he realized the room was empty. The only thing around was a updent in the middle of the room, which John walked over too. Did the troll lie? No, he could still hear the breathing. It was all around him.
The air started to grow hot and stale. John ran to the edge, flattening himself against a wall. The mound he had just been standing on started to grow bigger, leaking black tar from opening holes. Giant green orbs came into view, rising up with the mound. Below that emerged a snarling mouth, spittle coming down from the corners. It opened wide and John could feel the pull as it inhaled. He grabbed at the wall for a handhold but it became slick with oil. He turned to face the beast but oil erupted from the floor, making him fall.
The inhaling grew stronger and the boy flipped onto his back. With all his power he threw the Pogo Hammer at the beast. It bounced harmlessly off it’s eye and flew into the shadows. Quick as he could John donned his Ghost Gauntlets and pulled himself back by his collar. The beast sounded a deafening roar and the floor began to shake. The roof fell down in pieces and chunks and John could see the dull green clouds of Shade. John leaped from falling piece to falling piece, activating the Rocket Pack when he tasted fresh air. The Temple below exploded and the Denizen rose.
Land flew in all directions as the beast took a swipe at the shocked Heir. Barely dodging, he closed the distance and got behind its large shoulder spike. Black scales sparked as the WrinkleFucker came down blow after blow but not even a scratch was made. The beast roared again and turned sharply, slamming John with its spike. Ogres emerged from its skull and leaped at the Heir of Breath as he struggled to remain airborne. As he dodged left and right he spied as Return Node. Countenance grim, he zoomed though.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
EB: rose i need your help!!!
EB: i screwed up real bad!!
EB: rose please!!!!
John closed his Serious Business Goggles. Outside he could see the Denizen on the horizon, getting closer by the second, ground shaking with every step. Ok, not good.
He looked to his dowels, trying to come up with any sort of plan. He made another WrinkleFucker and two new Telescopic SassaCrusher. Fuck, would this even work? He need something stronger! There was the Barbasol Bomb, but it seemed just as weak. Plus the delivery... But what if the could send it from the house? At a distance?
Moving quick, he created a new item, combing the explosive power of the Barbasol Bomb and the explosive power of the Rocket Pack.
Seven new Barbasol Rocketing Missiles were now at his disposal. Expensive and nearly bursting, he hoped it would be enough.
Back up in the sky, John hovered over his first gate. “Sorry Casey, but this isnt the place for a little girl!” He dropped the salamander through the spiralgraph. The Heir of Breath turned to face his Denizen.
“I can do this! You think I’ll just let you hurt my friends?! I’ll beat you and save Rose and Jade and Dave and Dad and everyone!”
John shot the missiles and sped toward the beast, hammers out, ready to face his fate.
John woke with a gasp, his whole body dripping with sweat. Whoa geez, what a weird dream. He held his head and sighed deeply. The psychedelic colors on the walls were oddly soothing at times like this, and the yellow pajamas were as soft as bunnies.
Wait... He didn’t own any yellow pjs.
John got up, knocking a deformed doll to the floor. He looked out the window and saw some sort of yellow golden city miles below, gleaming from some unknown light source. This was not Kansas anymore. This wasn’t Washington either. Hell, this wasn’t even the medium!
The scared boy leap back into bed and pulled the blanket over his head. All he had to do was wake up again or go to sleep or something or pinch himself and go back home and-
Something tapped the top of his head. Shaking, John slowly lowered the comforting blanket, peeking out. Some strange creature with black hair and buck teeth was staring at him.
You know how the SCP site is written? Kinda like that. Very formal. Very buisiness-like. Not sure if that's what you were going for.
Emancipating from me is that characteristic "Hong Kong English". We talk formal; none of us uses contractions like half the time, and some words in English are exclusive to us, like "amah" or "latté" (stress on e).
50,000,000,184 k181+849° 308’ 41”
Sender () Action (^) Message ()
GC : YOU R34DY
GA : Yeah Pretty Much
GC : L3TS DO TH1S TH3N
GC sent File /alarm37801.exe/
GC execute File /alarm37801.exe/
GIV mood (–180,800, –1)
GIV : Why?
GC : >:]
GIV : Well congratulations, head is now throbbing.
GIV : I hope have elevated happiness feelings.
GIV : Like a (780,467, 1) or a (818,671, 1) or even a (999,237, 1).
GIV : Positively elated.
GC : LOOK 1 H4VE NO 1D34 WH4T ON 4LTERN14 YOU 4R3 T4LK1NG 4BOUT
GC : BUT 1F YOU W1LL
GC : TOMORROW YOU W1LL B3G1N YOUR M1SS1ON
GC : BUT F1RST
GC : W3 W1LL CONT4CT T4VROS F1RST
GIV : Right. Tavros.
GA : You Know
GA : The Guy With The Brown Text
GA : Constantly Stammering And With A Crippling Sense Of Self-Esteem
GA : I Hope The Pun Is Excused
AT : uHH, gUYS,
AT : tHAT’S AFTER HOURS,
AG : If that’s the case how are you still using that syntax????????
AT : tHAT’S JUST ME,
AT : bUT i HEAR THAT i, uHH, aM REQUIRED, hERE,
AT : wHAT IS THE, uHH, pROBLEM,
GA : Your Timing Is Just Right
GA : Do You Have A Small Piece Of Papyrus
GA : One Addressed To You
GA : In An Envelope Stamped With The Logo Of Kalšunay
AT : wELL, IT TURNS OUT, uHH, i DO,
AT : wHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO, uHH, dO WITH IT,
AG : Read it you idiot.
AT : wELL, oKAY, tHEN,
AT : “yOU ARE REPORT TO THE sPACEPORT sTATION ON THE lINE OF tEN rOOFS ON THE cALENDIAN mETRO.
AT : gO OFF TO EXIT s18 AND TAKE THE TELEPORTER INTO THE SHUTTLE PROVIDED BY THE cULTURE.
AT : mEET ON pORT 86 ON THE eLESTIKOKÁSO FOR FURTHER BRIEFING AND THE INTRODUCTION OF THE GAME.”
AT : tHAT’S ALL, uHH, tHERE IS TO IT,
AG : We are also told to help you using this program.
GA : I Will Be The Leader Of That One
GC : WH1LE 1LL H4NDL3 TH3 T3RM1NOLOGY
CG : WHOA WHAT IS THIS?
CG : AM I LATE FOR THE PARTY?
TA : ii am and 2o are you.
CG : YEAH WELL I’LL DEAL WITH THE FINER TROLL CULTURE FOR THOSE UNINITIATED.
CG : AS WELL AS MAKING SURE THAT YOU GUYS DON’T EXPLODE.
CG : FOR SOME REASON ELESTIKOKÁSO IS CURRENTLY COMPLETELY OCCUPIED BY EARTH THINGS.
CG : PRETTY UNUSUAL.
CG : ALMOST CERTAINLY CONTRIVED.
CG : BUT WHATEVER.
TA : whiile the re2t of us wiil deal wiith makiing thiings siimpler for you.
TA : you should be grateful.
AC : :33 < and also guide you over for some harder bits of the game!
CT : D --> We won’t directly help though
CT : D --> That’s part of the contract
CA : the contract that got this thin runnin in the first place
CA : so mainly its all you
CA : wwell meet you on the other side.
CA : elestikokáso that is
CA : until then its goodbye for you
GIV : Yeah. Rendezvous at the terminal on Calendia though, not back at Elestikokáso.
GIV : Time could be spent rationalizing with you.
GIV : Your kind is sort of difficult to decipher.
CA : yeah wwell wwhatevver
CA : in any case wwe havve to go noww
CA : fef say bye to doroeste
CC : BY-E DORO-EST-E! )(ope you )(ave a good time!
CC : BY--------------------------------------------E!
50,000,000,184 k181+849° 308’ 41”
You are now the other queen. But wait! This future queen is just a princess as well! She forgives you for your grave mistake. Meaning, of course, that you forgive yourself. Ugh, this is getting way too meta. Anyway, your name is LAUREN QUELLEN, and while this day is not altogether too special for you, it has been quite the opposite for your parents. Their attempts to sate the ravenous needs of the DENIZENS circling your moons have failed, and they have decided to switch their unreliable allegiances against those wondrous SAVIORS that would soon appear on their planets. As a sign of continued goodwill, so that they do not turn their aggressions to Prospit, the GLORIOUS MONARCHS have continued to send GIFTS to their planets in a hope to draw them to neutrality.
Your hobbies are not many, although you do sometimes indulge yourself with TEA PARTIES, which you sometimes have with the guards of the palace, or your DOLLS if the guards are not feeling too chummy. You wish to learn more about WIZARDS, since their magic would be of great assistance in the battles you foresee. You also hate Derse with a passion, and want to finish them off in a war as soon as possible. Your PARENTS advise against this, however.
They say that should a war happen, defeat would be imminent.