Credit goes to SkaianRedeemer, whom I'm 99 percent sure came up with the idea of Trollight. Hope you don't mind my using it! (I love A Hand in Holding Hands, by the way.) It does seem to make sense that Karkat would enjoy such a romance-centered series (the movies, anyway).
I may have created Trollight but you and Karkat have made it sing.
@Douhneill: We're both doomed, you know. You were gone, I was writing or otherwise working... This thread is going faster than romart all of a sudden. It's this ongoing flow of epic.
Thanks for the inspiration and support everybody!
Time to keep this going!
Part 4 - For better or worse
A whole lot has been going on, not that you care. Its really none of your concern, you’ve been laying back watching the rest of the Felt worry about the Midnight Crew, while you and Diamonds Droog partake in a friendly staring contest. You are Clover. Droog here has been rather red in the face with anger as you continue to tease and mock his intellect with your sheer amount of luck and cleverness.
He raises his fists in anger, he would love to punch you right now, but you and him both know if he were to try it’d only result in him breaking a finger or hitting himself.
He is trying to think of a gray area. There isn’t much of a gray area in your luck.
“You 4re 4 such 4n unlucky little o4f, you know.” You giggle slyly as he begins to count on his fingers, or perhaps plot with them.
“Shush, I am thinking.” He continues to ‘think’ out loud. He mutters about how he’ll get you yet.
He begins to pinch your ear, ouch! It is a stinging sensation that begins to burn and bother you. He tells you to divulge the location of Lord English and the Vault. You giggle in a fit of true humor and a small portion of pain.
“You 4re going to get 4n 4ll expenses p4id trip 4 this.” You laugh a bit, Droog doesn’t get the joke, but he’s about to.
A swift punch comes from Cans, that fella always lends you a hand when you really need it.
Cans sends him flying into the future by a matter of hours, not his strongest punch but it got him out of the picture for now.
Hours in the future, but not many….
..Oh fuck, oh holy hell Cans…no, not him. You look behind yourself and see Droog, looks like Cans can’t punch someone further along than before he himself dies, you suppose that makes sense, but you haven’t yet finished mourning the loss of him to really accept the first bit of bad luck you've had in some time. In all your anguish you don’t even care about Droog. He begins to hit you from behind; punching, bruising, scratching. It all feels so barbaric to you. You are not one to accept that the gray area of your luck is expanding as you are saddened, you turn to face him, blocking his next swing, and grab his arm.
“Th4t w4s a b4d move….” You know who killed Cans, you saw him do it. You can feel Fin’s presence, he’s watching the events unfold in the past. “Fin, I w4nt you to kill Deuce.”
You can’t see him nod, but you know he agrees to. You hold Droog’s arm tightly, he spits in your face. Guess that’s in the gray area, you wipe it off.
He smiles, “Looks like you guys are running low on back-up, aren’t you?” his smug expression, you’ll wipe it off of his face.
His face is red with your handprint. Your palm hurts, but you can feel Stitch making your strength return, you’ve never felt so enraged and lucky. You watch as in a fit of his own bolstering fury he swings at you with his razor blade.
He nicked your hat.
He also sliced his arm. The blood flow is amazing, a puddle grows steadily as he walks off and applies pressure to his wound. You would kill him, but you feel like sharing a bit of your luck for once, he needs it just as much as you do. You know chances are he'll bleed to death before he gets any medical help.
Kneeling before Cans, you wait…you wait until you can think of what else to do besides mourn.
5/15 green torsos dead
¼ midnight crew members deceased
2 doomed idiots
1 guilt ridden buffoon
Last edited by DJ-P0N3; 12-06-2010 at 08:54 PM.
Reason: ugh ugh ugh ugh
CURRENT turntechGodhead RIGHT NOW opened memo on board OPEN SPRITELOG
TG: all of you get in here
TG: i want to talk to all of the sprites
TG: all of them
PAST ghostyTrickster 3 MINUTES AGO responded to memo.
GT: right i’m in!
GT: what happened?
TG: just wait
TG: i dont want to have to break the news three different times
FUTURE tentacleTherapist 2 SECONDS FROM NOW responded to the memo.
TT: Alright, Strider, make it quick.
TT: I’ve been practicing with the Thorns and I don’t want to lose my touch.
??? crabDad AT ?:?? responded to memo
CD: YES, I’M HERE, WHAT WHAT.
CD: WHAT IS THIS IMPORTANT FOR-YOUR-SPRITES-ONLY MESSAGE I AM TO RECEIVE?
TG: dude you have the wrong session
TG: this is not meant for you
CD: VERY WELL.
CD: IT’S NOT LIKE YOU YOUNG PILLOCKS WOULD ENJOY ANYTHING I HAD TO SAY.
TG: if youre the sprite of who we think im not sure i would want to listen
TG: so long
??? crabDad ceased responding to memo.
TG: jade where are you get in here
CURRENT gardenGnostic RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
GG: yes i’m here!
GG: what is it?
TG: this took entirely too long
TG: so ill skip any preamble and come right out and say it
TG: doing the clock thing may have screwed us up just as bad as bec
GT: oh lord.
GT: IT KEEPS HAPPENING
TT: How have we screwed up this time, Strider?
TG: apparently giving him a time based prototyping gives him control over time itself
TG: and hes hit on just ripping chunks of timespace out of existence
TG: if you meet him, do not shoot to kill, hell just pause himself and heal
TG: and if you see like rocks and stuff disappearing
TG: get out of dodge because youre approaching a giant gaping hole in time and space
GT: uhh, wow.
GT: it sounds like we really messed up on this one!
GT: i can’t tell which jack i prefer less.
TG: yeah well dont trouble our past selves with it
TG: and try not to think about it
TG: im assembling a crack team of temporal specialists to deal with the threat
TG: meaning just hold your horses and let me do my job
turntechGodhead ceased responding to memo.
Dave looked out at the vast bubble of whatever that was that was left after you took all the time out of an area. It would fade back into an unnoticeable seam in due time, but until then it was a very uncomfortable place to find oneself.
And until then, Jack was stuck.
That gave them some room to breathe.
The Sprite formerly known as Dave Strider began to hatch a brilliant plan.
??? began pestering tentacleTherapist
TT: Umm, hello?
TT: Who is this?
Just a messenger.
There are certain individuals who have taken notice of this little stunt you and your friends have pulled.
TT: But I didn’t even want to pull it.
TT: If you’re seeking someone to punish, I can certainly point you in the right direction.
Oh, punishment isn’t their aim.
In fact, they’re looking to reward those who could pull such a complete turnaround on Paradox Space.
They asked for you by name.
TT: Oh, well then.
TT: That’s different.
TT: Where will I be meeting these admirers of mine?
Very soon, Rose Lalonde.
You’re getting very sleepy.
Rose the Sprite woke up somewhere. It wasn’t Derse. It certainly wasn’t the Battlefield.
“Where am I?”
You are in the Furthest Ring. And out of danger, for the present moment.
“What do you want from me?”
We only wish to take special note of this... “Time Slip” the Strider boy has perpetrated. He believes himself to be the savior of 14 lost souls. And he may yet be correct in his assumption.
But there is still work to be done. While he saves the timestream from ruin, you will also have a part to play. A part that your current form cannot sustain.
“And you seek to remedy that.”
When you awake, take up the Thorns. They must not leave you.
And Rose awoke.
Her first thought instantly went to the Thorns. She grabbed them, lying beside her resting place. The voice from before boomed in her head.
They must not leave you.
And nothing happened.
But that was alright. Horrorterrors had an obtuse way of working.
It was then she noticed her hubtopband flashing.
TG: hey your tentacleness
TG: wakey wakey
TG: we got a job for you
Last edited by Graven_Image; 12-06-2010 at 06:12 PM.
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.
@lucidSeraph: I nearly teared up. The ending was fantastic, and the sparse writing really fits Bro's personality. ....S-sob, orange feathers...
@Kassiopeia: Holy shit I actually gasped out loud when
Rose killed Droog. AAAAAAAAH
I did NOT see that coming and wow, the next chapter really brought home how far off the deep end Rose has gone. I love all the ambiguous morality in this story; Jack is hateful and pretty much the poster child for irredeemable villains, and Rose is working her way to joining him on the far side of the Moral Event Horizon, but the both of them are still sympathetic: Jack and his nagging, protective instincts, Rose and her moments when her facade cracks a little and the old her squirms up from inside.
in short: everyone, keep rocking.
Last edited by c_rowles; 12-06-2010 at 05:45 PM.
Reason: Rose did not kill Deuce. That was a silly mistake! ....also if Rose legit killed Deuce I wouldn't be able to like her anymore
if you be brave and stout of heart:
'neath this link lurks my DeviantART.
fffff c_rowles I am RIDICULOUSLY DELIGHTED by your comment My usual aim in writing seems to be experimenting with how far I can push the characters into horrible actions while still bringing them back to sympathy, so that is highly gratifying (and it's really no wonder Vriska is my favourite >_>)
More of this nonsense! As always, many thanks to everyone who has said nice things! And of course, I'm always open to constructive criticism as well.
Karkat's Diary, Part 3
BLOOD AND BLOODLESS, CHAPTER 15
KARKATTIUS CRIMSONSICKLE AUTHORITARIAT STOOD HEROICALLY BEFORE THE HEAVY BOLTED DOOR THAT LED TO SATNAV'S PRIVATE SANCTUM. HIS SIGNATURE WEAPON, THE LACHRYMOSE CRESCENT OF WAXING RETRIBUTION, DRIPPED BLACK WITH THE COMBINED HUES OF EVERY BLOOD COLOR ON THE HEMOSPECTRUM. EVERY COLOR, THAT IS, EXCEPT FOR ONE.
BEYOND THIS DOOR LAY EDWARD—HOPEFULLY ALIVE. AND BEYOND THIS DOOR ALSO LAY SATNAV, THE DEADLY CLOAKED VILLAIN WHOSE RAVEN-BLACK SICKLE HAD TORN THROUGH SO MANY OF KARKATTIUS'S THRESHECUTIONER TROOPS. THE BATTLE-SCARRED TROLL LOWERED HIS HEAD AS HE REMEMBERED THEIR CRIES OF TERROR AND PAIN. THEY HAD BEEN HIS RESPONSIBILITY, DAMN IT, AND HE HAD LET THEM DOWN!
BUT THAT WOULD ALL END HERE. KARKATTIUS WOULD RETRIEVE HIS MATESPRIT, AND HE WOULD END SATNAV'S MISERABLE LIFE. THE FUCKER WOULD NEVER HARM ANYONE UNDER KARKATTIUS'S PROTECTION AGAIN.
THE THRESHECUTIONER PUNCHED THE DOOR OFF HIS HINGES WITH ONE MIGHTY FIST. SATNAV WAS WAITING FOR HIM IN THE CENTER OF THE ROOM, WHICH WAS AUSTERE APART FROM SOME MOVIE POSTERS DECORATING THE WALLS. THOUGH KARKATTIUS WOULD NEVER HAVE ADMITTED IT, HE HELD SOME GRUDGING APPRECIATION FOR SATNAV'S TASTE IN ENTERTAINMENT.
SATNAV HIMSELF LOOKED AS HE ALWAYS DID—A DARK FIGURE CLOAKED ALL IN BLACK, HIS FACE OBSCURED. ONLY HIS BARED FANGS WERE VISIBLE, GLINTING FROM THE SHADOWS OF HIS HOOD.
“WHERE'S EDWARD, YOU ASSHOLE?” KARKATTIUS ROARED. SATNAV GRINNED AND SILENTLY POINTED UPWARD.
THERE HUNG EDWARD, SUSPENDED FROM THE CEILING BY CHAINS OF UNBREAKABLE UBERGRIST, HIS FACE TWISTED WITH EXHAUSTION AND FEAR. “vv KARKATTIUS...HELP ME...vv” HE GASPED. THEN THE CEILING OPENED, AND EDWARD WAS LIFTED OUT OF SIGHT.
KARKATTIUS WAS CONSUMED BY A RAGE MORE POTENT THAN ANY HE HAD FELT BEFORE. “SATNAV, YOU NOOKSNIFFING BULGEWAD!” HE BELLOWED VALIANTLY, CHARGING FORWARD AND SLASHING AT THE VILLAINOUS TROLL WITH THE LACHRYMOSE CRESCENT OF WAXING RETRIBUTION.
THE EVILDOER'S REFLEXES WERE EXCELLENT, BUT HE HAD BEEN TAKEN BY SURPRISE BY THE SPEED AND FEROCITY OF THE ASSAULT. A SHALLOW CUT HAD BEEN INFLICTED ON SATNAV'S LEFT ARM. KARKATTIUS GRINNED. NEVER BEFORE HAD HE SUCCEEDED IN LANDING A BLOW; NOW HE KNEW THAT HIS EXTRA BATTLE TRAINING UNDER ROSALIE HAD MADE THE DIFFERENCE. THE TWO TROLLS CIRCLED EACH OTHER WARILY, EACH LOOKING FOR AN OPENING TO MAKE THE NEXT ATTACK.
BUT KARKATTIUS ABRUPTLY STOPPED SHORT. ON THE FLOOR, NEAR WHERE HE HAD MADE THAT FIRST STRIKE, WERE DROPLETS OF BLOOD. CANDY-RED BLOOD. FOR A MOMENT, THE THRESHECUTIONER THOUGHT THAT HE HAD BEEN INJURED WITHOUT REALIZING IT. BUT AS HIS ENEMY BEGAN TO CHUCKLE SOFTLY, KARKATTIUS KNEW THAT SOMETHING MORE SINISTER WAS AT WORK.
SATNAV LOWERED HIS WEAPON, GRINNING. “THAT'S RIGHT, KARKATTIUS. ALL THIS TIME YOU THOUGHT I WAS SOME RANDOM ASSHOLE, JUST ONE ENEMY TO BE DESTROYED AMONG COUNTLESS OTHERS. LITTLE DID YOU REALIZE THAT YOU WERE FIGHTING...”
IN A SINGLE SMOOTH MOTION, HE THREW OFF HIS HOOD.
“THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!” KARKATTIUS SNARLED, BUT ALREADY HE KNEW IT WAS TRUE. THE TROLL WHO STOOD BEFORE HIM HAD THE SAME DEADLY HORNS, THE SAME WILD BLACK HAIR, THE SAME WAR-HARDENED EYES, THE SAME INIMITABLE AURA OF LEADERSHIP. HE WAS OLDER, WEARIER, HIS EYES MORE SUNKEN—BUT IT WAS UNMISTAKEABLY KARKATTIUS WHO WORE THE CLOAK OF SATNAV.
“NOT SO IMPOSSIBLE, MY RETARDED FORMER SELF. NOT FOR SOMEONE AS DESPERATE AS WAS—AS I STILL AM.” THE TROLL'S EYES BURNED. “I SEARCHED FOR SWEEPS TO FIND SOME WAY TO RETURN TO THE PAST. MY JOURNEY WAS LONG AND PAINFUL, BUT I PERSISTED. AT LONG LAST, I DISCOVERED THE TECHNOLOGY THAT WOULD BRING ME HERE.” HE REACHED INTO THE FOLDS OF HIS CLOAK, PRODUCING A CHARRED MUSIC BOX.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.”
“IT'S A TIME MACHINE, STUPID. I KIND OF THOUGHT THAT WAS OBVIOUS. ANYWAY, I PUSHED IT TOO FAR. IT WAS ONLY DESIGNED TO GO BACK HALF A SWEEP, AT MOST—BUT THAT WAS UNACCEPTABLE. I HAD TO GO BACK FARTHER. AND I DID—BUT THE MACHINE BROKE IN THE PROCESS. I'M TRAPPED HERE UNTIL I CAN FIND A WAY TO REPAIR IT.”
“THAT'S REALLY FUCKING TRAGIC. I'M WEEPING BITTER TEARS OF ENDLESS LUSUSFLUSHING PITY HERE,” KARKATTIUS SPAT. “NOTHING YOU'VE JUST SAID EXPLAINS WHY YOU KILLED MY THRESHECUTIONERS AND ABDUCTED MY MATESPRIT!”
“OUR MATESPRIT!” FUTURE KARKATTIUS SHOUTED, LOSING HIS COMPOSURE. “MY MATESPRIT!” HE TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “YOUR—OUR—TROOPS WERE...AN UNFORTUNATE BUT NECESSARY SACRIFICE. THEY GOT IN MY WAY. ALL I WANTED WAS EDWARD.”
KARKATTIUS GRITTED HIS FANGS. WOULD HE REALLY BECOME THIS TROLL SOMEDAY? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HAPPENED TO MAKE HIM WILLING TO KILL HIS OWN FORMER RECRUITS? “YOU'RE STILL NOT ANSWERING MY QUESTION! WHY?! WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY WANT WITH EDWARD? ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A THREESOME? YOU'VE GOT ONE BACK IN THE FUTURE, WHY DON'T YOU GO PLAY WITH HIM AND LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE?”
“BECAUSE HE'S DEAD!”
KARKATTIUS COULDN'T BREATHE FOR A MOMENT. “YOU'RE LYING,” HE SAID FLATLY.
FUTURE KARKATTIUS SHOOK HIS HEAD. “I'M SORRY.” KARKATTIUS THOUGHT HE SAW A SINGLE RED TEAR AT THE CORNER OF HIS ENEMY'S EYE, BEFORE THE CLOAKED TROLL QUICKLY BRUSHED IT AWAY.
“HE DIES NEXT PERIGEE,” THE OLDER KARKATTIUS CONTINUED. “AT JACOB'S HOOVES.”
KARKATTIUS COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY KILL YOUR KISMESIS. HURT THEM, MAIM THEM, HUMILIATE THEM—BUT NEVER KILL THEM. WHAT COULD POSSESS JACOB TO DESTROY A PERFECTLY INCOMPATIBLE CALIGINOUS RELATIONSHIP THAT WAY?
ON TOP OF THAT, KARKATTIUS AND JACOB HAD SECRETLY BEEN MORAILS FOR A FULL SEASON NOW. HE HAD ALWAYS KNOWN HE COULDN'T EXPECT THE VOLATILE WEREMUSCLEBEAST TO REFRAIN FROM FIGHTING EDWARD, BUT HE'D THOUGHT...HE WASN'T SURE WHAT HE'D THOUGHT.
HE PULLED HIMSELF AWAY FROM HIS BROODING THOUGHTS. FUTURE KARKATTIUS WAS STILL TALKING, HIS VOICE DESPERATELY INTENSE. “BUT NOW THAT I'M HERE, I CAN MAKE SURE THAT NEVER HAPPENS. I'LL KEEP HIM SAFE WITH ME UNTIL I FIX THE MACHINE, AND THEN I'LL TAKE HIM BACK TO MY OWN TIME. WE'LL BE TOGETHER AGAIN AT LAST.”
“NO.” KARKATTIUS DREW HIMSELF UP, DETERMINED. “I WON'T CLAIM NOT TO UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL, AND I'M GOING TO FIND SOME WAY TO KEEP HIM ALIVE. BUT YOU HAD YOUR TIME WITH HIM. HE'S MINE.”
TWO OF THE SAME TROLL GLARED INTO EACH OTHERS' EYES FOR A LONG MOMENT.
“YOU KNOW,” FUTURE KARKATTIUS SAID FINALLY, “I REALLY FUCKING HATE YOU.”
“WELL, OBVIOUSLY. AND I THINK I'VE MADE IT PRETTY CLEAR HOW MUCH I HATE YOU.” KARKATTIUS BRANDISHED THE LACHRYMOSE CRESCENT OF WAXING RETRIBUTION, ITS BLADE TINGED CANDY-RED WITH FUTURE KARKATTIUS'S BLOOD.
“DO YOU KNOW...” THE OLDER TROLL SIGHED. “IT'S BEEN THREE SWEEPS SINCE I WAS YOU, AND I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND A HALF-DECENT KISMESIS.”
“WHAT A BIG FUCKING SURPRISE. I AM NOW THE GOD DAMN CONDUCTOR OF THE SURPRISE TRAIN, ON A ONE WAY TRIP TO FUCKING ASTONISHMENT TOWN WITH MR. SHOCK AND THIRTY TONS OF PURE AMAZEMENT. BUT OH WAIT! THE TRAIN JUST GOT DERAILED BY A FEW STICKS OF ASTOUNDMENT, AND—”
FUTURE KARKATTIUS CUT HIM OFF. “AND YOU KNOW, HERE I AM, AND HERE YOU ARE...AND I CAN'T HELP WONDERING IF MAYBE YOU'D LIKE TO TRY SOMETHING A LITTLE BIT...CALI--”
BEFORE HE COULD EVEN FINISH THE WORD, KARKATTIUS WAS ALREADY BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM.
Wow, that was kinda long. Credit goes to my friend Bert for the following parts: The Lachrymose Crescent of Waxing Retribution, "lususflushing," and the surprise train rant.
Last edited by ceruleanTresses; 01-24-2011 at 06:43 PM.
Because Fanfiction does not have to involve canon characters and I want to prove it (who was asking?)((I DUNNO SHUT UP)).
Exit Stage Right
There's blood on the ground.
Deep red pools of it, running in rivulets between the lamenated tiles she so lovingly placed around her house. It mixed with the freshwater spilling from her fishtanks. Ah, we all knew poor little aquaticDepths, loving and level, like a mother. Caring for her little fish.
It makes you sick to your stomach. People these days, still beliving that peace could be achived. Well of course it could. Just so long as you kill anybody that stands in your way, you can have all the peace you want. Bitch.
You let loose a deep breath as you wash your hands. Feels good to know the Bitch will never pester you again. Sure, at the funeral, if there is a funeral, you'll cry like the others. A elaborate play, and they'll be none the wiser because it's not on a stage.
It looks like the imps found the body. It amuses you to think that the weakest creatures would also be the most caring. Look how they shut her eyes, and try to respect the fishy bitch. If they were any sappier it would make you proud.
As it is, it just makes you angry. Another bunch of grist for your collection. Frost will be none the wiser for the time you spent here. And niether will your sprite. Aquatic will rot here until finally someone further down the line makes their way here. Maybe Spectra will find her corpse. You decide you want to be around to hear her scream.
Haven't you always thought of Spectra as like a child to you? Children should be taught the meaning of death, the sincerity of killing. Too many games nowadays, giving them extra lives. Yes, Spectra needs to be the one to find the body. But she can't know you did it. It would tear you apart to lose her.
Maybe Seth will find it. Poor Seth, the only girl to ever love him bleeding all over her immaculate tiling. Maybe he'll even cry. He doesn't seem to care all that much though. He says he does, but he doesn't even try to hide it on his face. No, He'll probably set up the funeral, the emotionless ass.
And if Flyer gets here, you can kiss the corpse goodbye. The girl is a freak. She'd probably stuff it or something, make a purse? You can't even comprehend the kind of mind that girl has.
You leave a trail of bloody bootprints in the snow, but you don't care. It'll be gone in the next few hours. And so will you. Vanished in to La Midnight Dramatic.
Exit, Stage right.
Naw, I just wanted to characterize midnightDramatic a bit. She probably won't murder anyone in canon, though. I think Aquatic would kick her ass, especially in the snow or rain.
And Spectra would scream if she saw a body. Or a rat. Or even a imp. I'm looking forward to that one.
Graven, My Future Self And Me is so very much fun. It hits the right mix of a zany concept yet with the potential for a nice involving plot.
I'm surprised to find myself warming up to Notes From A Doomed Timeline. I normally don't go for crack parings, but the mood is really good. The art used in the beginning really helped to set the tone. Bravo.
Random fic idea: write a fic/chapter/whatever with the title (or inspired by the line) "White moves first"