MSPA Fanfiction IV

[egregiousBass]

Okaaaay. Back with more Multidave. The last chapter didn't get any comments, so I'll have to conclude that there wasn't enough angst. But it's okay, the person on DA who drew GreenDave is gushing over this and linking my shit (hello by the way).

Previous entries: 1|2

So anyway...

Lord English' Interdimensional Orphanage-themed Soap Opera

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Open Pesterlog:

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-- arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling triptuneGammaray [TG] --

AG: Surprise, d8rk ::::)
TG: oh noooo D:
AG: Did you think you could sh8ke me off that easily?
TG: why won't you just leave me alone >_<
AG: No can do, 8u8.
AG: You ruined the timeline for all of us, not just you.
AG: So I'm here as well, and 8oy have I got time on my hands!
AG: Wanna know how much?
TG: it's not my fault!
AG: Wah wah, so8 so8.
AG: Should I call the WHAAAAAAAAm8ulance?
TG: SHUT UP
AG: >::::O
TG: i dont need to take this crap from you
TG: it's your fault, not mine
TG: you tricked him and now he's dead!
TG: all because you had some sort of inferiority complex or whatever
TG: i don't care how many irons you have or where, you're a bad person and i hate you!
AG: Well well, aren't we suddenly ass8rtive.
AG: Bl8ming everything on me again? Let's see what HE thinks a8out that!
AG: Or do you w8nt to stay 8eefed up on coffee forever????????
TG: oh come on
TG: please don't :(
AG: Don't you wanna go seeeeeeee him again?
AG: He'll 8e very sad if you don't!!!!!!!!
TG: he's already dead, uurgh
AG: Are you so sure? It's almost like you want him to 8e!
TG: you're just saying that because you know i'd freak out
AG: But you've grown so much! I'm sure you can h8ndle it ::::)
TG: he was my best frie
triptuneGammaray [TG] is an idle chum.
AG: Nap time 8888)

Meanwhile, three very uninvited rascals spied on a two-man rehearsal.

"They're huge!"

"MILF?"

"For sure."

There were two dersites, one with a violin and the other with a double bass, working on a tango piece retrieved from the earthling Astor Piazzola.

"You're putting far too much pressure on that G-string, dear."

"Can you do it better?!"

"I'm just suggesting you play with a bit of restraint."

"Easy for you to say! Just blow against a violin and sound comes out."

The tall, fancy lady chuckled. "Once more, from the top."

And so the sound of their intruments filled the small sitting chamber, quickly absorbed by the ornate rugs and paintings that adorned every part of the mansion. The violin coursed through flawlessly, but the bass struggled to keep up.

"What do you say?"

"I say we're done for today."

She leaned in and gave the other a peck on his forehead. He blushed, and frowned as strongly as he could.

"Thank you for your time."

"L-likewise."

SnOwman deposited her violin in its case and marched out with elegant strides. Hearts Boxcars decided to wait a little while before beginning the struggle of packing his bass in.

"Did you guys fucking see tha-"

Flare's voice was muffled when the other Daves pushed their hands over his mouth.

"I HEARD THAT. WHO'S THERE?"

The hulking brute peered in their direction. It had been a perfect hiding place, under that commode. Until Flare had to go and open his mouth.

"I CAN SEE YOU, LITTLE RUNTS." Boxcars put the bass down on its side and grapped the commode, heaving it as if it were a bathtub. The Daves quickly scurried away.

They were trapped. The only door was across the room.

"WHICH ONE OF YER'S GONNA EXPLAIN?"

They all looked at Ace. With style comes responsibility.

"Well, um, we were just... Unscrupulously eavesdropping, and-"

"The boob lady caught me off guard, is all!"

Cue slapped the back of Flare's head. Jesus christ, that guy looked angry. So angry his face was assymmetrical or something.

"WHAT, CAN'T TWO AGELESS ADULTS HAVE A ROMANTIC MOMENT AROUND HERE?!"

"Not at all! I mean, yes, of course you can!"

"Congratulations, sir! We're very happy for you." The hulking bassist appeared to be settling down.

Ace whispered to Flare. "(Say something nice, you dunkass.)"

He shifted awkwardly for a moment. "Uh... Nice cello!"

Oops, bad idea. A cry of indignation, and the man took another step closer, driving the Daves into a corner as he towered over them. He launched into a frivolous rant, containing such elements as "DO I LOOK LIKE A SNIVELING CELLIST WHIMP TO YOU?", "A CELLO IS THIS BIG", and "IF THIS IS A CELLO, THEN WHAT THE HELL IS A BASS?"

He finished. The Daves stared in awe. Silence.

Boxcars stepped aside. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT."

Cue nearly tripped over a billiards carpet on the way out.

---------------

Elsewhere, Dog was being a sneaky little bitch. Spots' apparant slowness from they day before had gotten him curious as to the weird shit going on in the mansion. The first thing he'd done after breakfast was explore, all ninja-like and shit. None of Scratch's weird consorts had seen him.

Eventually, he had made his way to the basement. It contained a whole alchemy set, with a designix hooked into a big screen. He could lock onto any object from any part of the alpha timeline and make a punched card out of it.

The first thing he did - naturally - was alchemize his bro's plasma TV and playstation 2. Secondly, his sylladex to take everything back upstairs. All the awesome stuff would have to wait. He took care not to be seen. Even though there was a delirious amount of grist on hand, he figured Mr Scratch wouldn't be too happy if he knew Dog was messing with the equipment.

Right now he was rocking Mark Ecko's Getting Up. Man, what a shitty game. Someone knocked on the door. Dog hastily captchalogued the whole TV set. "Yeah?"

Oh sweet jegus, one of those creepy amphibian mofos. He held the door open without coming in.

"Your friend is having a nap in the foyer. You'll want to wake him up."

"How do you figure that?"

"You're going to. I just checked."

*sigh* Fine. Can't argue with destiny.

Sure enough, Spots was fast asleep on a fancy bench propped up against a wall, right next to a huge pendulum clock, and also a bunch of smaller ones. Clocks everywhere up in this bitch.

What a place to fall asleep, on this hard bench surrounded by the noisy devices. He seemed to be sleeping lightly. Or maybe Dog couldn't hear him snoring over the infernal ticking.

Suddenly, Spots grimaced and curled up. He made a few whimpering noises before settling down again. But his breathing was still uneasy.

Yeah, night terrors happen. Wakey time.

Dog put his hand on Spots' shoulder. He snapped awake and grabbed the other Dave's wrist. His breathing was panicked, eyes wide open behind his shades. Cold sweat glistened on his forehead.

Nothing Dog hadn't seen before, or experienced first hand.

After a few seconds, Spots began to relax. He let go and sat straight up. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"You okay?"

He opened his mouth to say either 'yes' or 'no', but settled for an ambiguous answer. "It happens every time."

Recurring dreams. Wonderful. Oppurtunity for psychological bullshit.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really..."

"A promise is a promise, dawg."

Spots stared at him for a few seconds. Then he caught on. "You bully >:/"

"Haha, whatever. But let's get away from these clocks first."


A little while later, they sat on Dog's bed. They'd both taken their shades off because it'd be pretty douchey to keep them on. The normally cheery boy was staring at the floor with a burdened expression.

"So what was that dream about?"

"Do you know what horrorterrors are?"

Alright, something we have in common. "Yeah, the big tentacle monsters. I dream about them too, sometimes."

"Well I dream about them every time!" He was about to say more, but fell silent. Dog cocked an eyebrow.

"That's not the whole story, is it?"

Spots took a deep breath. "Do you know John?"

"Egbert?"

"Huh? No, Lalonde." Dog gave him a blank stare. "That's what you meant, right?"

And then he finally put two and two together. "Oh, I get it now!", he said, excitedly. "You're from a timeline where everyone had different parents. Man, that's some metaphysical shit. Oh wait, shit." The other Dave was eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you have, like, a dog for a parent?"

"Yeah..."

So that's why he named me that. He couldn't dwell on this for much longer, though. Spots didn't seem to be getting any happier.

"Sorry. What about John?"

His gaze went back to the floor. "So he was like, all chummy with the horrorterrors. They reached out to him when he slept, I think. And he trusted them. And then..." He seemed to struggle putting the rest to words.

"You don't have to tell every little detail if you don't want to."

Spots rummaged through his hair. His expression was pensive as fuck.

"Is he in your dreams?"

The boy nodded. "Do you have any idea why?"

"They... they claimed him. Or something. I guess." His voice wavered.

Dog put an arm over the other Dave's shoulder. He could feel the big issue was coming up soon.

"Is he dead?"

Spots briskly jerked forward, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know! What if he's still alive, being tortured by them? What did they even want with him?!"

Dog quickly brought his other arm around Spots, embracing him. The latter surpressed a few sobs, before hugging Dog tightly and resting his head on the other's shoulder.

"In my dreams, he's there, trapped in their tentacles. I can see him reaching out to me. I don't know if he's actually in pain or if it's just his corpse being juggled around like a puppet."

Dog tussled the other's hair and let him cry into his shoulder. He could always alchemize more shirts. It was a bit alienating, seeing Spots like this. But it had probably been waiting to happen, like Davesprite had said. Well, whatever he'd said. Dog hadn't been paying attention.

He considering telling Spots that it was okay, John was still alive in the alpha timeline, but decided against it. He didn't feel much affinity with this John Lalonde; it wasn't his John. The same way Egbert wasn't Spots' John.

Soon enough, the sobbing stifled, and the other Dave's shivering stagnated. Spots loosened his embrace, brough his face back up and wiped the tears away. His expression now was a bit more... phlegmatic. Is that the right word? Damnit. I'm gonna have to look that up now.

"Um..sorry about that." His tone was pretty normal.

Dog gave him a generous smile. "Anything for a paradox self."

He stood up and looked down at the other quizzically. "You're not actually all that sugary and cheerful, are you?"

"Bluuuuh." Spots leaned back against the wall behind him. "No, I guess I'm not. Haven't been for a while. But I like to pretend I am."

Dog nodded. "D'you still want to?"

"Meh, I dunno." He looked down at his bermuda shorts and sandals. "These clothes look pretty stupid now, actually."

"Oh, I know where we can get more."

"Are you gonna be all 'shit, lets go shopping' before you lock me up in a basement and use me as a dress-up doll?"

"You got it."

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D8 2
This is so 8ooooooooring! All these D8ves do is dick around and talk a8out their feelings. No smooching or viol8nce or anything! 8ut at least I got some progress

in the way of

character devel8pment





W

edit: See here more GreenDave art.

[Katrika]

...Bass, I love the multidaves. So much.

[MneumonicCarbuncle]

p6

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@lucid: i really liked the way the time shifting was done. great piece!
@decidingly: CRYIN' OVA HEAH. so sad!!!!! T_T it's painful to see dave struggle, though definitely realistic. i loved it.
@jenivi: warm'n fuzzies i love emesis' 30's au too!
@pingzing: oh man! i haven't seen much in this vein - turns out i like it. well done

p7

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@judgedeadd: wow, you've got their voices down perfectly! dig it
@precariouslyaware: /popcorn
@kassiopeia: oh man, sweet. i love dave's interaction with jack and the descriptions accompanying
@lackypoo: brb catching up

p8

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@EB: oh man, i love AU daves. i'm just getting into the habit of not-lurking now, makin' an effort and all that. i love these fics. and the idea of a john lalonde... hehehehehe! strange! i doodled a dave harley, but it's not quite this one. but i love'em. these fics, and the little dudes too, i think

hopy shit, so many good fics, guys !!! all i can say is

[bluelantern]

Hey, a little fan fic help.

I need some opinion about simbolism, and what is more proper

Symbolism; get ye a spellchecker

Sorry, din't noticed the spellchecker symbol, there and english is not my primary language (and you americans "y" confuse and scare me greatly)

there will be 5 players based on the chinese elements. My doubt is what would be the best way to place them. The chinese elements have two sets of organizations that can be (in a short description) be classified as "creation cycle" or "destruction cycle", my doubt what is the better to simbolize the client-server relationship.

the creation cycle: could simbolize how the server helps the construction of the client's player house and also it's planet.

the order would be: Earth <- Fire <- Wood <- Water <- Metal

the destruction cycle: relates to the destruction of the world, and also with the control that the "server" player has over the client's enviroment.

the order would be: Earth <- Water <- Fire <- Metal <- Wood OR Earth <- Wood <- Metal <- Fire <- Water

I think ultimately you'd want a Creation cycle, since that's the ultimate goal of Sburb.

Seconded. It seems fitting enough. This is me looking forward to it.

Well, it appears to actually be the popular option, so it will be creation cycle, either way I am okay, as long the first player is from Earth.

Earth (Heir of Time) <- Fire (Witch of Words) <- Wood (Druid of Breath) <- Water (Thief of Style) <- Metal (Knight of Eclipse)

[KarneWarrior]

GallowS
Undertaking(part 7)

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They set the boat out to sea, and Azken set it ablaze. Karkat laid a hand on Terezi's shoulder.

"We did all we could. Come on, let's head back to base."

"It's over, Karkat. All the fighting, the blood. It's over. And for what? So I didn't get killed by the drone? Why did Fef and Kanaya die?"

"They died protecting Alternia, they way they wanted to go. They died honorably." Karkat said, as compassionate as Karkat could get.

The two walked hand in hand through the funeral ground. Spatters of red, yellow, green, and a small amount of blue were coating every surface. The clear Ichor of Overseer blood made everything slick and shiny.

And at the center of it all, a small stain of purple. They had died honorably. Protecting the one thing every troll loved. Terezi knelt and took of her glasses. The revolution was won.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O

weRebel [WR] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

[WR]: I feel you deserve a thank you.
[WR]: For your help.
[GC]: FOR WH1CH R3VOLUT1ON?
[WR]: Both of them. They went hand in hand at the end.
[GC]: HOW SO?
[GC]: 1T W4S JUST YOU 4ND THOS3 OTH3R TWO!
[GC]: >
[WR]: Azken agreed and you know it.
[WR]: You were there.
[GC]: 1 DONT KNOW WH4T 1 S4W.
[WR]: But we do. Thank you, Terezi Pyrope.
[GC]: YOUR3 W3LCOM3
[GC]: 1 GU3SS
[WR]: And Terezi?
[GC]: >
[WR]: When we last spoke to Blacktag...
[WR]: He said you were the most valuble member of the resistance.
[WR]: So thank you.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling weRebel [WR]

I know it's short but I gotta eat! So have an epilogue before part two! Hehehehehe.

[Ganato]

asdgasjdhg
Karne, making parts at seemingly random is a good way to keep people in suspense, but you're still kind of dick for doing it.

eb: @description of Snowman: Oh god yes. Way to go Daves.

[KarneWarrior]

Hehehehehe.

I'm an even bigger dick since I won't be updating anything for three days maybe. I'm headed up to see some snow and fuck around in North Carolina, so I may be distracted.

In any case, sorry about the randomness of the GallowS updates. It mostly happened because I don't want to write #2 after the forum conked out on me.

Arthooooooooouuuuuuuuuurrrr!!!! Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!

[Summergale]

Perfection

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That table is annoying her. The top, it isn't even at all, one of the legs is a little too short and oh it is so infuriating. She siezes a book from a shelf and rams it beneath the offending chunk of wood, and twists the book round so that it is perfectly parallel with the edges of the table leg and perfectly centered. Perfect. She moves to the bookshelf and begins tirelessly rearranging books, hands flicking back and forth to make them perfectly even, perfectly straight, they have to be perfect.

It's an obsession, one she simply cannot rid herself of. Her Space powers torment her, make her acutely aware of her surroundings and any imperfections. Sometimes it's just a feeling in the back of her head (no, that's off, that needs to be moved), but sometimes it causes physical pain and she has to do something about it, really, she has to change it or it'll hurt even more. Perfect perfect perfect. It hurts when it's not perfect.

Sometimes she feels such overwhelming hate towards the others. Rose, with her perfect vision even in the dark. Dave with the innate sense of time and rhythm. John with his windy thing. None of them understand why she's so antsy, why her mind constantly reels and compels her (forces her) to rearrange. Constantly. Always. When she eats she arranges her food into neat little lines, or circles, or a perfect interlocking square; when she sleeps she has to arrange herself just so beneath the covers and then smooth out as many wrinkles as she can; when she speaks to the others she has to restrain herself from smoothing their clothes, straightening Dave and John's glasses, putting Rose's hairband perfectly upon her head. It's frustrating and terrifying but she can't stop doing it.

Eventually her compulsion grows so strong that she does it while sleeping, a condition made worse by her narcolepsy. She'll wake up slumped on the floor perfectly in the middle of a perfectly clean room, with everything put away so neatly. Other times she wakes up on the surface of the asteroid, having arranged the rocks into neat lines and rows. She feels tired, all the time, but she still goes on with it. She knows the others are worried about her but they just wouldn't understand, they don't have this... this disease (everything must be perfect), they don't have to live with it all the time.

One day she's frightened that she'll want to re-arrange a planet, or try and tidy up a friend's internal organs and make then clean and then put them back nice and neat. One day she knows it will happen, simply because it's getting worse and she has no idea how to stop it.

It all has to be perfect.

oh god why

i need to go back to writing Knight and the Witch, but this just demanded to be done first

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perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect

that word has lost all meaning to me now

[Kassiopeia]

Notes from a Doomed Timeline II: Symphony In Quartz
2: Time And Tide

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The Striders' apartment is silent, and almost serene. Aradia chases off the crows who have been pecking idly at Dave's body, and lays him out on his bed, making sure to arrange his limbs at dignified angles. She has set up a viewport on Rose's laptop and is pretty sure that the girl must be watching her. This, then, is a test. Even though she knows that Rose will eventually become reconciled to her help, knows it in her bones as she knows that every time loop must stabilise eventually, she has no intention of making things any more difficult for herself than they already are.

Dave looks very small, just lying there. His skin is awfully pale, and his glasses have fallen from his face, revealing eyes glazed open with terror. The irises are a dark red, almost like Aradia's own blood, and for a moment she feels a twinge of kinship for the boy, before remembering that her own blood is blue, now, the blue-black sheen of the sky. She gently closes Dave's eyes and tucks his bedsheet around him, trying not to feel the usual twinge of distaste and violation at the thought of the new blood in her metallic veins. Why would she need blood anyway? She's a robot. It's absurd. Absurd. Another instance of Equius ruining everything. Treating people as nothing but opportunities to gratify his twisted fetishes. God, how she hates him. But there is no time to start revelling in her loathing right now. She needs to get to work, and fast.

Her music boxes are hovering at her sides, and the crystals are cool and responsive to her psychic touch, as ever. She sets them gently to spinning, feeling the teeth of the cylinders catching and biting onto the fabric of the timeline, propelling herself backwards. If Rose had been telling the truth when she had agreed, however reluctantly, to engage in Aradia's plan, she ought to be convincing Jade to install the various bits of game machinery in Dave's house. Aradia, meanwhile, has business in the past.

She cannot stop the Draconian Dignitary from murdering Dave, she reminds herself. She has learnt this lesson at an uncomfortable cost, seen her friends die on a regular basis, in timeline after timeline, and all her efforts to help have only led to more deaths, more destruction, more timelines condemned to spiral into nothingness. A fractal kaleidoscope of collapsing possibilities. Such is the gift that Time has brought her.

Still, as she waits behind the closet door in Dave's bedroom, his dying whimpers of pain tug at the place where her mechanical heart ought to be. His death is necessary, she thinks to herself. An immovable rock in the shifting rivers of time. A brief rest in the rippling notes. Like her own death and resurrection.

She slips out of the closet silently, mustering a swell of telekinetic power that tingles in her fingertips. As the Dignitary withdraws his spear from Dave's belly, satisfied that the boy is dead, she pounces, coiling a web of energy around the agent's neck and lifting him against the wall.

"Mr Diamonds," she says quietly, "Good afternoon."

His expression shifts quickly from satisfaction at the death of the boy, through shock and fury, to pure annoyance.

"And who do you think you are?" he hisses, straining against her psychic hold, "I don't do business with little girls."

"I imagined you would say something of the sort," she says, before throwing him at the wall. The impact makes the cheap plasterboard of the apartment shudder, and he crumples to the floor like a squashed insect.

"That was un-called-for, darlin'," he groans, dropping his courtly manners and clutching an injured knee.

"Mr Diamonds, I'm not okay with your conduct," she says, snatching the spear from his grasp.

"Ain't nobody called me by that name since I was a hatchling," he says, reaching for the spear. Too late. She snaps it into three pieces and drops the useless shards to the ground. "I'm the Dignitary now. Who are you?"

"We were friends, in another time," says Aradia, "Something like friends. I don't know. In any case, it is important that your influence corrupts this timeline no further."

"Friends?" he smiles, and his voice grows sweet again, "Why, might I ask, would I be friends with some clunking mechanical child?"

"You were impressed by me, Mr Dignitary," she said, "I believe because you saw me kill another girl. She fully deserved it, I assure you. In any case, those days are over. I no longer kill."

"Well now, that is a shame," says the Dignitary, "What happened?"

"I met someone," says Aradia, "And I felt no further need for revenge."

The Dignitary's lip twists in derision.

"Have you never been in love, Mr Dignitary?" says Aradia. Her own Mr Diamonds had made certain confessions to finer feelings of the most embarrassing nature, once, in the dead of night, but of course Aradia had promised secrecy, and she never broke a promise. Nonetheless, she thought, some things are constant. In every timeline she has visited, Equius is an insufferable bastard, Sollux is not quite brave enough to let her forgive him, and Mr Diamonds has a tiny flaw at the very centre of his glassy faceted heart.

"If I were my boss I'd spit in your eye for suggesting it," he murmurs, "As it is, I can assure you I have not. Agents of Derse are not designed for such... time-wasting."

"You lie, Mr Dignitary," she says, "It isn't wise, you know." She lifts him telekinetically, hoisting his wriggling body and letting it drift through the air and out of the window, before climbing up to perch on the sill herself. He rotates slowly in the air, doing his best to hover in a dignified fashion.

"I thought you said you were no longer a killer," says the Dignitary. For the first time, there is a look of real panic in his eyes, and Aradia tries not to think of Mr Diamonds.

"I have to make an exception," she said, "I'm sorry. I promise I will bring you back."

"Why are you doing this?" he growls.

"Someone needs you in the future," she says, and turns her back, and lets him drop. He hits the pavement far below with the jarring sound of splintering carapace. Aradia makes herself watch, and feels the time wave caused by his death vibrate through the spindles of her music boxes. It will take a few hours to reach Jade's island, she thinks. What happens then is a matter of luck.

* * *

Jade isn't sure why Dave is taking such a long nap in the middle of the day. "Let Dave alone," Rose tells her. "He hurt himself pretty badly earlier. He needs a rest. Just try to install everything without waking him, okay?"

So she sets everything up, arranging the alchemiter and the rest of the apparatus on the roof of Dave's apartment block, and Rose tells her it's probably best just to leave everything be, and let Dave deal with the kernelsprite for himself.

"Go and play with Becquerel," she says. Jade thinks she sounds strange. Both sad and somehow guilty. "Honestly, Jade. I really think you should."

Jade puts on some music and irradiates a steak for Bec's lunch and a bowl of noodle soup for herself, but Bec doesn't come in from outside. Probably he's just having a good time running about in the woods, she thinks, and leaves his steak in his bowl for him to eat when he comes back. John isn't answering his Pesterchum messages, and Rose still seems to be in a very strange mood, so she settles down at her lunchtop to draw some Squiddles fanart.

After a little while, she hears the familiar chime of someone messaging her.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: sup jade
GG: dave!!! have you been asleep aaaaall day?
TG: uh
TG: sure
TG: i guess im planning to steal your crown as the mayor of sleepy town
GG: mayors don't have crowns, gosh, dave!
GG: or should I say, mr dozybritches the usurper
GG: anyway do you need me to help out with your sprite or anything??
TG: no man
TG: all sorted
TG: dont you worry about that
TG: so hows tricks
TG: devilbeast treatin you ok
GG: you sound weird, dave :/
GG: you and rose. you're both really off.
TG: im fine dude
TG: mr dozybritches the totally ok
GG: hmmmmmmm :/
GG: what did you prototype your sprite with anyway? i can't see you.
TG: look jade i guess i have to tell you some stuff
TG: don't freak out its not a huge deal
GG: um ok
GG: just a second
GG: i heard something

-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

The time wave stirs the still air around the towers, a small breeze ruffling the grass and sending a small cascade of flowers tumbling from the trees. Jade steps out of the house, relishing the feeling of the warm earth beneath her bare feet, and shuts her eyes for a moment.

When she opens them again, the house is in ruins. It has been for as long as she remembers: it's been hard enough just surviving all these years, and since her grandfather's death she hasn't had time to maintain the place as more than a shelter. She pulls her rough woollen shawl back round her shoulders and heads inside. Someone's trying to talk to her. Not what she needs right now. The generator's been making strange noises, and she has to check on the rainwater tanks.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering grayGardener [GG] --

TG: you still there harley?
GG: wat do u want dave
TG: hey
TG: so yeah
TG: im dead and this chick aradia took over my house and prototyped her sprite with me
TG: basically
TG: you can call me mr spritebritches the mysterious now
GG: sowns like it workd out alrite
TG: jade?
GG: im bizy ok
TG: ok sweet
TG: good thing youre not really worried about me or anything
TG that would be pretty inconvenient and annoying
GG: you want somun 2 wory about u try john
GG: u sownd fine 2 me
TG: what the hell happened
TG: are you suddenly retarded
GG: fuk u strider
GG: not my fawt i dint go 2 school
TG: wow im sorry
GG: sarkastic prick
TG: ok this is fucked up
GG: dont hav time 2 deal wiv u

-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

Aradia is looking over his shoulder, he realises, and rounds on her in a brief ruffle of feathers.

"What the fuck'd you do to Harley?" he says, struggling to maintain his composure. It's weird enough getting turned into a magical angel ghost oracle without some robot chick messing with the girl he - well. His friend.

"Calm down, Dave," says Aradia, standing up, "Jade is fine. Barely even changed. I am surprised it went so well."

"Oh, yeah, she's fine," says Dave, "I sorta remember her bein' able to spell and not a huge bitch, but other than that, peachy keen."

"I'm sorry," says Aradia, "It was important to remove Becquerel from the timeline. You would thank me if you knew, I assure you. Didn't you refer to him yourself as a devilbeast?"

"So Jade grew up all alone? Yeah, I'm sure that was fun and she isn't warped at all or anythin'."

"I grew up alone myself," says Aradia.

"Well sure, you're the poster child for sanity, after all," says Dave. He wants to talk to Jade again, more than anything. Just to check she's okay. All those years on an island all by herself. He doesn't even want to imagine. But she thinks he's a sarcastic prick, and hell, maybe she's right. Either way, he doesn't think she'll listen if he tries to convince her otherwise right now.

"I'm sorry," says Aradia, "This was the only way."

Dave flutters over to the window with a flick of his wings and looks out at the Land of Crystal and Magma. Rivers of golden lava flow through vast canyons and tunnels of sparkling quartz, under a dark sky. It's beautiful, impressive - and utterly alien. He's a city boy. This isn't his place. Still, overhead is the gate, and through it, his chance to get to Jade.

(A/N: I hope it's clear what's happening here. This NFADT is a tad more complex in terms of plot than the last one. Also I am gonna do some drawings of altJade, poor thing.)

edit: ninja'd by creepy awesome things from Summergale. That is ace. Just the kind of darkness I enjoy

[Caprisaurus]

Perfection

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That table is annoying her. The top, it isn't even at all, one of the legs is a little too short and oh it is so infuriating. She siezes a book from a shelf and rams it beneath the offending chunk of wood, and twists the book round so that it is perfectly parallel with the edges of the table leg and perfectly centered. Perfect. She moves to the bookshelf and begins tirelessly rearranging books, hands flicking back and forth to make them perfectly even, perfectly straight, they have to be perfect.

It's an obsession, one she simply cannot rid herself of. Her Space powers torment her, make her acutely aware of her surroundings and any imperfections. Sometimes it's just a feeling in the back of her head (no, that's off, that needs to be moved), but sometimes it causes physical pain and she has to do something about it, really, she has to change it or it'll hurt even more. Perfect perfect perfect. It hurts when it's not perfect.

Sometimes she feels such overwhelming hate towards the others. Rose, with her perfect vision even in the dark. Dave with the innate sense of time and rhythm. John with his windy thing. None of them understand why she's so antsy, why her mind constantly reels and compels her (forces her) to rearrange. Constantly. Always. When she eats she arranges her food into neat little lines, or circles, or a perfect interlocking square; when she sleeps she has to arrange herself just so beneath the covers and then smooth out as many wrinkles as she can; when she speaks to the others she has to restrain herself from smoothing their clothes, straightening Dave and John's glasses, putting Rose's hairband perfectly upon her head. It's frustrating and terrifying but she can't stop doing it.

Eventually her compulsion grows so strong that she does it while sleeping, a condition made worse by her narcolepsy. She'll wake up slumped on the floor perfectly in the middle of a perfectly clean room, with everything put away so neatly. Other times she wakes up on the surface of the asteroid, having arranged the rocks into neat lines and rows. She feels tired, all the time, but she still goes on with it. She knows the others are worried about her but they just wouldn't understand, they don't have this... this disease (everything must be perfect), they don't have to live with it all the time.

One day she's frightened that she'll want to re-arrange a planet, or try and tidy up a friend's internal organs and make then clean and then put them back nice and neat. One day she knows it will happen, simply because it's getting worse and she has no idea how to stop it.

It all has to be perfect.

oh god why

i need to go back to writing Knight and the Witch, but this just demanded to be done first

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perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect

that word has lost all meaning to me now

Ggfffttf
This is now my headcannon

[lucidSeraph]

augh, Kass, you hurt my heart.

In always the best ways, of course.




why am I now shipping dave/aradia what is this

[Ganato]

@Perfection: Oh wow. Yeah I guess the Witch might be hit a bit harder than the Sylph. Enjoyed the darkness.

@Kassiopeia: Oh wow, yeah Aradia. Way to go fuck EVERYTHING up. Shit is going to be nowhere near the same as the Alpha line.

[QuetzaDrake]

Hrmm, I wonder how Jade's life went to crud without Bec? I mean, if Bec wasn't there ever, that means technically she should've died from the flintlock pistol going off, or at least Grandpa wouldn't've died from Bec teleporting the bullet. Although I suppose Grandapa could've died eventually anyway, though the absence of the dog (omnipotent as he might be) as the cause of the place and her going into disarray is a little odd as well. Guess she just lacked love, and thus became apathetic.

[Kassiopeia]

@QuetzaDrake all will be explained! :3 Or, uh, handwaved. Mostly handwaved. (I can't explain why the house is so ruinous, other than it worked well as a metaphor for the dramatic changes in Jade. OH WELL.)

[bluelantern]

Sorry if I am asking to much and writting too little

but either way

I saw this

http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=4&p=001195

and thought it could be interesting uses for prototypings for my story

I was thinking the creature/element/player could be:
WEASEL WARRIOR => METAL => KNIGHT OF ECLIPSE
ELF MAGE => FIRE => WITCH OF WORDS
HOG CLERIC => WATER => THIEF OF STYLE (might change to "soul")
CLOWN BARD => WOOD => DRUID OF BREATH (she uses a panflute)

The player of Earth, the Heir of time will prototype himself, as tradition demands.

[Katrika]

Kass.

you are...

Amazing.

[TacticGamer]

Yeah I have the best Idea for Biscuits.

Quarters I have no idea about. Matchsticks at least had that 11=pause thing. And matchsticks = fire. I don't have anything at all to work off of for quarters.

Quarters should be able to get in a Safe and travel back in time at the rate of one second.

[KilroyWasHere]

Kass. I... I really, really want to forget I ever read that. ;-;

[Sionnan]

Hm. Didn't think I'd get this dark.

A Strider fic, but not of the cute and cuddly variety.

Dave finds that trying to see his brother one last time only lets him see all of the closed avenues.

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-Stop-

Rewind-

-And he watches, horrified, as Bro's form at the kitchen sink, is engulfed in a bright cloud of noise and fire, and he somehow knows the paramedics will tell him later he never felt a thing-

-Freeze.

-Skip forward, don't scratch.

-Dave stares at an alligator who sends him a blank, toothy grin.

-Rewind.

-His fingers scrabble against the hard top, asphalt cracked in the heat, tearing nails-

-Rewind.

-A small, huddled form is curled on a bed, and it is hot in the small room, and there is blood matting the back of the ginger hair, and his sides are not moving.

-Skip forward. Do NOT scratch.

-The dog-thing is too fast and-

-Reverse-

-The dog thing is too fast and strong and-

-Reverse-

The dog thing is too fast and strong and by now-

-Reverse-

The dog thing is too fast and strong and by now Dave knows-

-Reverse-

The dog thing is too fast and strong and by now Dave knows there is noth-

-Reverse

-ing he can do.

-Reverse

-At some point Dave stops. Dave stops, and he sits with his back up against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, glasses off, iPhone off, hands covering his face. He pesters Rose to lay some cloudy bullshit on his present location to fuddle up Terezi, doesn't explain when she asks why. She does anyway.

The boy, all of thirteen, cries into his knees. He tries to keep it to a minimum at first, just intending to blow the top off this frothy brew of grief and frustration. But at thirteen, he knows that he doesn't have the emotional control to do that, and he starts sounding more and more like a kicked puppy as the hitching breaths at the tail end of crying jags work up.

Some idiots say traffic is hell, and some blundering buffoons say paperwork is hell.

Some assholes say war is hell. Some bigger assholes say love is hell.

They were all wrong.

Hell is repetition.

[Cathartes]

Perfection

show spoiler

hide spoiler

That table is annoying her. The top, it isn't even at all, one of the legs is a little too short and oh it is so infuriating. She siezes a book from a shelf and rams it beneath the offending chunk of wood, and twists the book round so that it is perfectly parallel with the edges of the table leg and perfectly centered. Perfect. She moves to the bookshelf and begins tirelessly rearranging books, hands flicking back and forth to make them perfectly even, perfectly straight, they have to be perfect.

It's an obsession, one she simply cannot rid herself of. Her Space powers torment her, make her acutely aware of her surroundings and any imperfections. Sometimes it's just a feeling in the back of her head (no, that's off, that needs to be moved), but sometimes it causes physical pain and she has to do something about it, really, she has to change it or it'll hurt even more. Perfect perfect perfect. It hurts when it's not perfect.

Sometimes she feels such overwhelming hate towards the others. Rose, with her perfect vision even in the dark. Dave with the innate sense of time and rhythm. John with his windy thing. None of them understand why she's so antsy, why her mind constantly reels and compels her (forces her) to rearrange. Constantly. Always. When she eats she arranges her food into neat little lines, or circles, or a perfect interlocking square; when she sleeps she has to arrange herself just so beneath the covers and then smooth out as many wrinkles as she can; when she speaks to the others she has to restrain herself from smoothing their clothes, straightening Dave and John's glasses, putting Rose's hairband perfectly upon her head. It's frustrating and terrifying but she can't stop doing it.

Eventually her compulsion grows so strong that she does it while sleeping, a condition made worse by her narcolepsy. She'll wake up slumped on the floor perfectly in the middle of a perfectly clean room, with everything put away so neatly. Other times she wakes up on the surface of the asteroid, having arranged the rocks into neat lines and rows. She feels tired, all the time, but she still goes on with it. She knows the others are worried about her but they just wouldn't understand, they don't have this... this disease (everything must be perfect), they don't have to live with it all the time.

One day she's frightened that she'll want to re-arrange a planet, or try and tidy up a friend's internal organs and make then clean and then put them back nice and neat. One day she knows it will happen, simply because it's getting worse and she has no idea how to stop it.

It all has to be perfect.

oh god why

i need to go back to writing Knight and the Witch, but this just demanded to be done first

show spoiler

hide spoiler

perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect

that word has lost all meaning to me now

@Judgedeadd and Summergale

I just wanted to say, you do an awesome job at describing Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I know that's not what it is really supposed to be, but the symptoms line up so perfectly, along with the emotions of shame and frustration. I love it!

[lucidSeraph]

oh god Sionnan I was afraid to click it and

yeah

*picks up Dave and holds him*

[NateDude]

Notes from a Doomed Timeline II: Symphony In Quartz
2: Time And Tide

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The Striders' apartment is silent, and almost serene. Aradia chases off the crows who have been pecking idly at Dave's body, and lays him out on his bed, making sure to arrange his limbs at dignified angles. She has set up a viewport on Rose's laptop and is pretty sure that the girl must be watching her. This, then, is a test. Even though she knows that Rose will eventually become reconciled to her help, knows it in her bones as she knows that every time loop must stabilise eventually, she has no intention of making things any more difficult for herself than they already are.

Dave looks very small, just lying there. His skin is awfully pale, and his glasses have fallen from his face, revealing eyes glazed open with terror. The irises are a dark red, almost like Aradia's own blood, and for a moment she feels a twinge of kinship for the boy, before remembering that her own blood is blue, now, the blue-black sheen of the sky. She gently closes Dave's eyes and tucks his bedsheet around him, trying not to feel the usual twinge of distaste and violation at the thought of the new blood in her metallic veins. Why would she need blood anyway? She's a robot. It's absurd. Absurd. Another instance of Equius ruining everything. Treating people as nothing but opportunities to gratify his twisted fetishes. God, how she hates him. But there is no time to start revelling in her loathing right now. She needs to get to work, and fast.

Her music boxes are hovering at her sides, and the crystals are cool and responsive to her psychic touch, as ever. She sets them gently to spinning, feeling the teeth of the cylinders catching and biting onto the fabric of the timeline, propelling herself backwards. If Rose had been telling the truth when she had agreed, however reluctantly, to engage in Aradia's plan, she ought to be convincing Jade to install the various bits of game machinery in Dave's house. Aradia, meanwhile, has business in the past.

She cannot stop the Draconian Dignitary from murdering Dave, she reminds herself. She has learnt this lesson at an uncomfortable cost, seen her friends die on a regular basis, in timeline after timeline, and all her efforts to help have only led to more deaths, more destruction, more timelines condemned to spiral into nothingness. A fractal kaleidoscope of collapsing possibilities. Such is the gift that Time has brought her.

Still, as she waits behind the closet door in Dave's bedroom, his dying whimpers of pain tug at the place where her mechanical heart ought to be. His death is necessary, she thinks to herself. An immovable rock in the shifting rivers of time. A brief rest in the rippling notes. Like her own death and resurrection.

She slips out of the closet silently, mustering a swell of telekinetic power that tingles in her fingertips. As the Dignitary withdraws his spear from Dave's belly, satisfied that the boy is dead, she pounces, coiling a web of energy around the agent's neck and lifting him against the wall.

"Mr Diamonds," she says quietly, "Good afternoon."

His expression shifts quickly from satisfaction at the death of the boy, through shock and fury, to pure annoyance.

"And who do you think you are?" he hisses, straining against her psychic hold, "I don't do business with little girls."

"I imagined you would say something of the sort," she says, before throwing him at the wall. The impact makes the cheap plasterboard of the apartment shudder, and he crumples to the floor like a squashed insect.

"That was un-called-for, darlin'," he groans, dropping his courtly manners and clutching an injured knee.

"Mr Diamonds, I'm not okay with your conduct," she says, snatching the spear from his grasp.

"Ain't nobody called me by that name since I was a hatchling," he says, reaching for the spear. Too late. She snaps it into three pieces and drops the useless shards to the ground. "I'm the Dignitary now. Who are you?"

"We were friends, in another time," says Aradia, "Something like friends. I don't know. In any case, it is important that your influence corrupts this timeline no further."

"Friends?" he smiles, and his voice grows sweet again, "Why, might I ask, would I be friends with some clunking mechanical child?"

"You were impressed by me, Mr Dignitary," she said, "I believe because you saw me kill another girl. She fully deserved it, I assure you. In any case, those days are over. I no longer kill."

"Well now, that is a shame," says the Dignitary, "What happened?"

"I met someone," says Aradia, "And I felt no further need for revenge."

The Dignitary's lip twists in derision.

"Have you never been in love, Mr Dignitary?" says Aradia. Her own Mr Diamonds had made certain confessions to finer feelings of the most embarrassing nature, once, in the dead of night, but of course Aradia had promised secrecy, and she never broke a promise. Nonetheless, she thought, some things are constant. In every timeline she has visited, Equius is an insufferable bastard, Sollux is not quite brave enough to let her forgive him, and Mr Diamonds has a tiny flaw at the very centre of his glassy faceted heart.

"If I were my boss I'd spit in your eye for suggesting it," he murmurs, "As it is, I can assure you I have not. Agents of Derse are not designed for such... time-wasting."

"You lie, Mr Dignitary," she says, "It isn't wise, you know." She lifts him telekinetically, hoisting his wriggling body and letting it drift through the air and out of the window, before climbing up to perch on the sill herself. He rotates slowly in the air, doing his best to hover in a dignified fashion.

"I thought you said you were no longer a killer," says the Dignitary. For the first time, there is a look of real panic in his eyes, and Aradia tries not to think of Mr Diamonds.

"I have to make an exception," she said, "I'm sorry. I promise I will bring you back."

"Why are you doing this?" he growls.

"Someone needs you in the future," she says, and turns her back, and lets him drop. He hits the pavement far below with the jarring sound of splintering carapace. Aradia makes herself watch, and feels the time wave caused by his death vibrate through the spindles of her music boxes. It will take a few hours to reach Jade's island, she thinks. What happens then is a matter of luck.

* * *

Jade isn't sure why Dave is taking such a long nap in the middle of the day. "Let Dave alone," Rose tells her. "He hurt himself pretty badly earlier. He needs a rest. Just try to install everything without waking him, okay?"

So she sets everything up, arranging the alchemiter and the rest of the apparatus on the roof of Dave's apartment block, and Rose tells her it's probably best just to leave everything be, and let Dave deal with the kernelsprite for himself.

"Go and play with Becquerel," she says. Jade thinks she sounds strange. Both sad and somehow guilty. "Honestly, Jade. I really think you should."

Jade puts on some music and irradiates a steak for Bec's lunch and a bowl of noodle soup for herself, but Bec doesn't come in from outside. Probably he's just having a good time running about in the woods, she thinks, and leaves his steak in his bowl for him to eat when he comes back. John isn't answering his Pesterchum messages, and Rose still seems to be in a very strange mood, so she settles down at her lunchtop to draw some Squiddles fanart.

After a little while, she hears the familiar chime of someone messaging her.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: sup jade
GG: dave!!! have you been asleep aaaaall day?
TG: uh
TG: sure
TG: i guess im planning to steal your crown as the mayor of sleepy town
GG: mayors don't have crowns, gosh, dave!
GG: or should I say, mr dozybritches the usurper
GG: anyway do you need me to help out with your sprite or anything??
TG: no man
TG: all sorted
TG: dont you worry about that
TG: so hows tricks
TG: devilbeast treatin you ok
GG: you sound weird, dave :/
GG: you and rose. you're both really off.
TG: im fine dude
TG: mr dozybritches the totally ok
GG: hmmmmmmm :/
GG: what did you prototype your sprite with anyway? i can't see you.
TG: look jade i guess i have to tell you some stuff
TG: don't freak out its not a huge deal
GG: um ok
GG: just a second
GG: i heard something

-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

The time wave stirs the still air around the towers, a small breeze ruffling the grass and sending a small cascade of flowers tumbling from the trees. Jade steps out of the house, relishing the feeling of the warm earth beneath her bare feet, and shuts her eyes for a moment.

When she opens them again, the house is in ruins. It has been for as long as she remembers: it's been hard enough just surviving all these years, and since her grandfather's death she hasn't had time to maintain the place as more than a shelter. She pulls her rough woollen shawl back round her shoulders and heads inside. Someone's trying to talk to her. Not what she needs right now. The generator's been making strange noises, and she has to check on the rainwater tanks.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering grayGardener [GG] --

TG: you still there harley?
GG: wat do u want dave
TG: hey
TG: so yeah
TG: im dead and this chick aradia took over my house and prototyped her sprite with me
TG: basically
TG: you can call me mr spritebritches the mysterious now
GG: sowns like it workd out alrite
TG: jade?
GG: im bizy ok
TG: ok sweet
TG: good thing youre not really worried about me or anything
TG that would be pretty inconvenient and annoying
GG: you want somun 2 wory about u try john
GG: u sownd fine 2 me
TG: what the hell happened
TG: are you suddenly retarded
GG: fuk u strider
GG: not my fawt i dint go 2 school
TG: wow im sorry
GG: sarkastic prick
TG: ok this is fucked up
GG: dont hav time 2 deal wiv u

-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

Aradia is looking over his shoulder, he realises, and rounds on her in a brief ruffle of feathers.

"What the fuck'd you do to Harley?" he says, struggling to maintain his composure. It's weird enough getting turned into a magical angel ghost oracle without some robot chick messing with the girl he - well. His friend.

"Calm down, Dave," says Aradia, standing up, "Jade is fine. Barely even changed. I am surprised it went so well."

"Oh, yeah, she's fine," says Dave, "I sorta remember her bein' able to spell and not a huge bitch, but other than that, peachy keen."

"I'm sorry," says Aradia, "It was important to remove Becquerel from the timeline. You would thank me if you knew, I assure you. Didn't you refer to him yourself as a devilbeast?"

"So Jade grew up all alone? Yeah, I'm sure that was fun and she isn't warped at all or anythin'."

"I grew up alone myself," says Aradia.

"Well sure, you're the poster child for sanity, after all," says Dave. He wants to talk to Jade again, more than anything. Just to check she's okay. All those years on an island all by herself. He doesn't even want to imagine. But she thinks he's a sarcastic prick, and hell, maybe she's right. Either way, he doesn't think she'll listen if he tries to convince her otherwise right now.

"I'm sorry," says Aradia, "This was the only way."

Dave flutters over to the window with a flick of his wings and looks out at the Land of Crystal and Magma. Rivers of golden lava flow through vast canyons and tunnels of sparkling quartz, under a dark sky. It's beautiful, impressive - and utterly alien. He's a city boy. This isn't his place. Still, overhead is the gate, and through it, his chance to get to Jade.

(A/N: I hope it's clear what's happening here. This NFADT is a tad more complex in terms of plot than the last one. Also I am gonna do some drawings of altJade, poor thing.)

edit: ninja'd by creepy awesome things from Summergale. That is ace. Just the kind of darkness I enjoy

Oh god the part where jade's timeline changed for the worst, aaagh!

Awesome story. Keep up the good work.

[Wigmund]

Gave myself a break from the Princess Bride stories to write something in the Troll!Cops AU.
It's the first time Officer Sollux Captor and The CuttlefishCuller meet up.

[Summergale]

@Sionnan - Augh, Dave This sadness is not what I need at 5am

@Cathartes - Glad you like it! There was so much more I wanted to write for this, but ultimately I think this is a good length.

@Ganato - Well, I figured sylphs are like fairies, so their spatial 'OCD' would be less severe...

@Caprisaurus - It has always been my headcanon. Always.

@Kassopeia - eeee kass likes one of my fics I love NfaDT, although this looks like the second chapter of part two? Is it?

Aaaaaaaugh I just typed all of this on an iPod keyboard at 5am
Why are you so addictive forum

[SkaianRedeemer]

oh nooooooo the Aradia/Sollux update I have been dreading is here. This was something I really thought I could cover better than I did in HiHH but it slipped past me. Me kicking of myself. It achieves nothing.