MSPA Fanfiction VI: Trashy Rainbow Drinker Fanfiction

[Graven_Image]

Begin Testing

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OPEN MEMO

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devilsFood opened memo on board WEIGHTED COMMUNICATION CUBE

DF: Well, ~here we are again.
DF: It's ~always such a pleasure.
DF: Pre~liminary testing on the s~oftware has been compl~eted.

gotoSpace responded to memo

GS: space
DF: You are un~authorized to enter this ~board.
DF: Please ~leave.
GS: goin to space
GS: were GOIN TO SPACE
GS: I KNEW IT
GS: SPAAAAAAACE
DF: While it is ~true that we are l~eaving the ~atmosphere of the ~earth, we are not "going to space" in the trad~itional sense.
DF: Ple~ase le~ave.
GS: space
GS: call the space cops
GS: space cops help me
GS: help me
GS: in space

devilsFood banned gotoSpace from responding to memo

DF: ~An~y~way...
DF: ~Copies of the pr~ogram will be distr~ibuted to all test part~icipants.
DF: This board will remain open for the p~urposes of co~ordination.

devilsFood ceased responding to memo

shortRound responded to memo

SR: So
SR: Who's up for being my server

longLegs responded to memo

LL: me, of course!
LL: i was always going to be your server, remember?
SR: No I don't
SR: You never mentioned that
LL: well I meant to.
LL: so there.

adventureSphere responded to memo

AS: And fer what it's worth, little guy, I got no problem being yer client.
AS: I'm ready.
AS: It's time to go places!
SR: Wow Rick's ready to leave the facility
SR: There's a surprise
AS: Can you blame me?
AS: It's been dull as dirt ever since that pretty lady left.
AS: Got nothing to do but stare at the walls all day.
AS: I'm ready to MOVE!

actualIntelligence responded to memo

AI: This is a bad plan.
LL: oh noooooo.
AI: Going through with these instructions will result in our deaths.
AS: Shaddap, Fact Core, nobody likes you.
AI: The Fact Core is the best core, and is a friend of everybody.
LL: whose server are you going to be?
LL: just to change the topic.
AI: The Fact Core is going to be servicing the Space Core within one hour.
AI: The Fact Core's body is pending manufacture, but will far surpass those of the Space and Adventure Cores.
AI: Alligators were invented by Napoleon to help fake the loss of the Battle of Waterloo.
AS: Welp. I've heard enough.
AS: See ya. I'm gonna go check up on the lethal military androids for the thirtieth time today.

adventureSphere ceased responding to memo

SR: Yeah, I'm out
SR: Gotta get ready when there's testing to do

shortRound ceased responding to memo

AI: The final digit of pi is equal to the fiftieth digit of the square root of pi.
LL: uummmm...
LL: bye!

longLegs ceased responding to memo

AI: There is still one more participant in this conversation.
AI: He will arrive in five minutes.

corporateLackey joined the memo

CL: Umm, hi, yes, I was wondering...
CL: Will there be any room, for me, on this test?
AI: GLaDOS requires an even number of subjects to begin testing.
AI: She will be forced to select you.
CL: Umm, smashing!
CL: Well, then. I'll just, I'll just go. Thank you.

corporateLackey ceased responding to memo

AI: There is a forty nine point five percent chance that she will reject an existing subject instead.
AI: These odds are excruciatingly slim.

[Decker]

Crossposting the fics I did for the Easter Exchange

Fairy Tales, which focuses mainly on Kanaya and Tavros.

Snapshot, a Dave fic.

[lucidSeraph]

@Graven - YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

IN SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE

@Decker - Haven't read the Fairy Tales yet, but I did read Snapshot, and I'm very glad to see someone finally exploring that particular one of Dave's interests. Good show, sir.

[crash826]

@Graven:

Will this be continued?

[IrateRapScallion]

So I'm working on chapter 2 of my stupid thing, and I went to wikipedia to look at their list of ASCII emoticons. I'm scrolling down the list and I notice that mixed in with stuff like "Angry face" are emotes for Kismesissitude/Blackrom, Auspisticeship, and Moirallegiance. There's no other fandom-created stuff on this list, just those. Never change, you guys.

[Graven_Image]

@Graven:

Will this be continued?

Yes.

In space.

[newbonomicon]

The Space Core should be the Core of Space in the land of Space and Space. In space.

[Decker]

@lucidSeraph, Thanks, I got the idea while playing Portal 2

[draconicAlgorithm]

Herp derp, finally some Wizardstuck. Part of a 2 to 3 part miniseries, no less.

Wizardstuck: Animagus 1

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It was already late. Pale moonlight filtered through the crack in the curtains, splashing upon the carpeted floor of the dormitory room, illuminating no other part. But that was okay. Nepeta could see just fine in the dark—better than most trolls, let alone humans! But she couldn’t sleep. Not tonight.

Like the rest of the trolls, Nepeta had gradually gotten used to the new sleeping and waking cycle that the school imposed upon them. After a couple sleepless nights, anyone would begin to change. But every once in a while, Nepeta just couldn’t sleep. Something inside her stirred her blood, made her fingers twitch and her senses far more alert than usual. She recognized that feeling.

It was the call of The Hunt.

But she had to push back those feelings, drive them away until she could sleep again. Because now, while at Hogwarts, she couldn’t hunt. Sure, the Forbidden Forest lay just outside the school grounds, but she had been barred from entering by both school rules and Equius. Although, to be honest, Equius held a lot more authority over her than the school. And so, even though her instincts urged her to run, to hunt, to kill, she couldn’t.

That was why she was up so late. It had to be nearly three in the morning, but she hadn’t had a wink of sleep all night. When she was wound up like this, she didn’t get any sleep at all. So, she read.

Nepeta had her back propped up with pillows and a book opened in front of her. She’d picked her Defense Against the Dark Arts book tonight. Usually, she gravitated towards either it or Care of Magical Creatures. She loved reading about all the strange and fantastic beasts that these wizard humans had discovered, although in some ways, it made her need to hunt feel even stronger. At least it was something to do.

That night, she had settled upon transformation creatures, magical beasts that could take on the guise of a human, or that perhaps a human could turn into under the right circumstances. She had just finished reading a bone-chilling passage about werewolves, how a human infected would change into a wolf-like animal under the light of a full moon. Like tonight! She thought gleefully. Nepeta turned her amber gaze to the window with the crack in the curtains. She could quite clearly see the plump moon, hanging low in the sky. So different from the ones she grew up with! But still so pretty.

She went back to her book, resisting the urge to gnaw on her hat, and continued reading. Her eyes skimmed over a passage, and then, after finally registering what she read, she went back and read it again. And then one more time, just to be sure she wasn’t dreaming it.

One should not misinterpret a werewolf for an animagus, for animagi are by far a different sort of beast entirely. They are not a beast at all, simply a witch or wizard who has attained the ability to transform into an animal at will. And therein lies the greatest difference between animagi and werewolves. An animagus can choose to transform, and into any one of a large variety of creatures, while a werewolf has no choice.

Nepeta could only stare at the book, a fluttering hope awakening in her chest. “A witch or wizard who has attained the ability to transform into an animal at will.” It sounded too good to be true, too wonderful to be true. And yet, here it was, right in her text book. It had to be right, didn’t it? Her heart called for it to be. It would by far be the most amazing thing that magic could accomplish. Turn into an animal at will…

Nepeta needed to find out more about this thing called an animagus.

She spent the rest of the night scouring through her books, trying to find another mention of an animagus, but there were none to be found. The next day, she skipped Potions (because who really wants to listen to Snape anyway? He’s so mean!) and headed to the library instead. She combed through book after book, but she was beginning to get discouraged. No matter what book she picked up from which shelf, she never found anything useful. She went through nearly the entire library, but instead of books on animagi, she found book on everything else, from how to rid one’s garden of a gnome infestation to the proper care of a cauldron. After pawing through a book entitled Magical Pranks Through the Ages, she finally decided she needed a break. The night without sleep was getting to her, and the words were starting to blur together on the pages. Surely shutting her eyes for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt…

Nepeta was awakened suddenly by someone shaking her. Her head shot up and her claws nearly shot out at as well, until she recognized the voice accompanying the shaking.

“Jegus, Nepeta, calm doooooooown!” Blinking sleepily, she turned to see Vriska standing behind her, giving her a bemused look. Nepeta grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry Vriskers! I guess I was more tired than I thought!” Vriska raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll say. You slept right through lunch, and I decided to do Equius a favor and look for you, since I can pinpoint you better now. Those Legilimency and Occlumency classes are doing wonders, you don’t even know. I’m soooooooo much stronger now.” She grinned, revealing her mouth full of sharp teeth. Nepeta resisted the urge to shiver. Vriska might be easier to get along with now, but she was still pretty creepy sometimes!

“Well, uh, thank mew! I was just doing a nip of studying!" She did her best to smile innocently, silently begging Vriska to leave her alone. However, the other troll girl would not be dissuaded so easily.

"Oh reeeeeeeeally?" She asked as she leaned forward to pick up the last book Nepeta had been looking at. The cat girl paled when she realized what it was. "'Magical Pranks Through the Ages'? Studying for your Trickster class?" She smirked. Nepeta stuck out her tongue at her.

"No! I just have pawroblems finding books in this library!" She crossed her arms. Vriska raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? What were you looking for?" For a moment, Nepeta didn't answer. She debated whether or not this was something she should reveal to Vriska, but, after a long moment, she knew she was going to need help or else she wouldn't make any more headway.

"… Okay, I'll tell you. But only if you purromise not to tell Equius!" Vriska's grin turned a little too gleeful.

"Oh, is the little kitty looking up something she's not supposed to?" Nepeta growled.

"No! It's just something he'd think was silly." It was the truth. Nepeta hadn't asked Equius about it, simply because she was sure that he would forbid her from looking, but where was the harm? It wasn't like she was doing anything dangerous! Apparently the spider troll had thought it might be something incriminating. She looked a little crestfallen.

"I'm looking up infurrmation on an animagus." Vriska gave her a confused look.

"What? What's that?" She asked. Nepeta grinned.

"Only what is pawsibly the most fan-cat-stic bit of magic ever invented! It's a witch or wizard who can transform into an animal! And I want to become one!" She beamed excitedly at Vriska, who stared in return for a long moment before beginning to giggle. Nepeta's grin faded.

"What?" She asked dejectedly.

"It's just—something only you would get so excited about!" She managed to say through laughter. Finally, she got a hold of herself again and grinned. "Okay, since you're obviously so worked up about it, I'll help you out a bit. I don't know my way around this place very well either, but I usually just ask the librarian for stuff when I need it. Why don't you try that?" Nepeta's face lit up immediately.

"Oh, Vriskers, you're so smart! Thank mew!" Nepeta leaped out of her chair to give Vriska a quick tackle hug before racing off to talk to the librarian, leaving the other troll a little disheveled.

When Nepeta got to the front of the library, however, she was feeling less enthusiastic. Madame Pince was not exactly the most easily approachable human. Her thin frame and long, crooked nose reminded Nepeta unnervingly of a carrion bird back on Alternia. As a young troll, Nepeta had been afraid of them after another troll had told her that they were a sign of death. It was said that any troll who had a carrion bird resting atop their hive would be the next to be culled. Nepeta had believed this superstition up until Equius had convinced her otherwise, but the creatures themselves still unnerved her.

Nepeta walked nervously up to the counter behind which Madame Pince sat. The librarian saw her immediately and looked down at her over thick-lensed reading glasses.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice sounding severe. Nepeta trembled a little, but spoke anyway.

"I was, uh, looking for a book. On animagi?" Madame Pince stared down at her for a second longer than necessary before turning away.

"… I don't believe we have many of those, but I will look." A wand appeared from her sleeve and tapped a black box with a single drawer in it that was sitting upon Madame Pince's desk. After a few moments, a tiny ding sounded, and the drawer quickly popped open of its own accord. Madame Pince retrieved a scrap of paper from inside. She looked it over once and nodded to herself before handing it to Nepeta.

"As I had suspected, we have only one, though it is still here in the library. Here is where you'll find it." Nepeta took the paper carefully, quickly stuttered her thanks, and then scurried away behind the safety of the bookshelves. Madame Pince was so creepy!

Once she was out of sight, Nepeta quickly looked at the scrap of paper. Some words had been hastily written on it. It seemed that the book she was looking for, My Life as a Bullfrog: Memoirs of an Animagus by Anura Beiana, was in the Transfiguration Section, oddly enough. Once she knew where she needed to look and what book she needed to look for, the searching was a little easier. It still took about ten minutes, but it was a shorter amount of time than it would have been if she'd had to find it herself. She nearly started reading the book then and there, only to realize that she needed to go to class. With a wistful sigh, she set off.

She almost wished she had just skipped History as well. She had already missed several more classes while napping in the library, so it hardly seemed worth it. Finally, as Professor Binns droned on and on and most students (except Aradia, who was oddly immune to how boring the ghost was) had fallen asleep, she gave up attempting to write notes and began reading the book instead.

It was a bit of a let down. It didn't tell her anything about how to become an animagus. Instead, it just gave her stories of the author's time as one. As it turned out, Mrs. Beiana had a great many misadventures under the guise of a frog, from being kissed to even spying on the enemy during the dark times when Voldemort had previously been in power. It was intriguing, Nepeta had to admit, but not what she had wanted. She read through it anyway, all through History and then in the Gryffindor common room afterwards. She sat alone in a corner in one of the comfy armchairs, all curled up in it cutely. Although she started out actually reading the book, after a while, she grew bored with it. Instead she started skipping pages and scouring ahead, hoping for any bit of information. Finally, she flipped to the very end of the book. Nothing. The very last page was nothing but a list of acknowledgements. With a frustrated sigh, she set the book down in her lap. The back cover fell open, and that last page flopped out of the way so that she could see the inside of the back cover clearly. Nepeta's eyes widened a bit when she saw the slight crease in it that signified that something was hidden inside. Quickly, she looked around. No one was looking at her. The few other students in the common room appeared to be preoccupied with their own tasks. Once her relative privacy was assured, she carefully worked what she found to be an old, folded up piece of parchment out of a slit in the cover of the book. Her cardiac pump beating heavily in her chest, she carefully unfolded the piece of paper and found scrawled writing on it.

Not what you were expecting? Try these.

Deathly Draughts and Other Potent Potions
Transfiguring the Self
The Art of Permanent Spellcasting

signed, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Nepeta stared at the parchment for a long moment, gears slowly turning in her mind. Were they suggesting she try these books instead? These people, humans, whoever they were, had they somehow guessed that someone would check out this book in hopes of learning the secret to becoming an animagus?

It was… plausible, maybe. An odd development, but it was so exciting! Like a hunt, but a very different kind from what she was used to. A hunt for truth, for information. It still made her blood race, made her twitch eagerly for that prize which was sure to come at the end of it.

Nepeta was getting closer.

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Long ago, when I was still really into Harry Potter, I had this idea to write a fanfic about a student at Hogwarts trying to find out how to become an animagus. I always thought the power was pretty cool, but it had to be complicated to do. I mean, it took Sirius, James, Peter several years to figure out how, right? So I got the idea that the information was scattered in a number of books because it required a lot of knowledge of potion making, transfiguration, and probably some other stuff, like maybe incantations or circles or exact rituals or something. Plus, the stuff for the potion would be hard to get a hold of, etc... My point is, I had a lot of this stuff planned out in my head, but I never actually got around to writing it.

So, now I'm writing it about Nepeta. Because seriously, what furry would not be all over the chance to turn into an animal? (According to my friend who is a furry, none.)

Anyway. This oughta be pretty fun.

[The Cool]

oh man more wizardstuck



uh

brb fetching a towel

[Varkarrus]

1: print character 'Y'
2: print character 'A'
3: goto 1
4: print character '!'
5: goto 4

[The Cool]

This Human Disease Called Troll

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Okay back when it was just, like, ten or so people misspelling things in their speech, it was bearable. Helpful, even. People went out of their way to avoid stairs, so some of the hallways cleared up some. Less traffic on my route to class is always a good thing.

Well, more andmore people picked up on certain phrases. For a while, t was just the stairs warning getting adopted by a few people. Then when "the big man, HASS the rock" cameup, it spread faster than the stairs. Then another thing would come up, and it would start off big, and snowball even faster and harder than anything before it. This kept on for a while. I could tell somthing was up when one day, EVERYONE was commenting on how their phones ran on "babbery power" and didnt need to be plugged in. I had accepted the amount of spread as normal by now, but the strange thing was that it hadn't been said BEFORE that day. Not ONCE.
I didn't pay it much thought a the time, but it seems pretty significant now.

Well, just the other day, a costume shop opened in the area. Normally not a big deal. But like three days later, one kid showed up with gray skin and weird oversized candycorn strapped to his head. I had already come to expect this sort of thing by now, I mean it broke like eighty million rules, but whatever. The weird thing WAS? Everyone WORSHIPPED THIS GUY.

Crowds parted for him. People gave him random stuff, like food and money. I swear I saw some random chick fling a pair of panties at the guy! He was like a total freaking rock star from Mars, winning.

Well, like I said before, this was pretty standard fare at this point, so I didn't think to connect anything. At least until the next day.

Can you guess what I saw?

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I MIGHT make this a series?

[Twigwise]

@Graven
Obviously the Space Core is going to be the Hero of Space I mean he's just so perfect being that there's all this space in the storyline for him to get even more space out in space. I bet he's going to be the first in space. And the last. Because it's SPAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCEEEEEEE

On a more coherent level HEY IT'S WHEATLY I CAN'T STAY MAD AT YOUUUU WHEATLY HELLO WHEATLY GIVE ME A HUG

[draconicAlgorithm]

@Graven
Obviously the Space Core is going to be the Hero of Space I mean he's just so perfect being that there's all this space in the storyline for him to get even more space out in space. I bet he's going to be the first in space. And the last. Because it's SPAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCEEEEEEE

On a more coherent level HEY IT'S WHEATLY I CAN'T STAY MAD AT YOUUUU WHEATLY HELLO WHEATLY GIVE ME A HUG

Yes, so much more coherent. xDD

@ Varkarrus: It took me a while to figure that out. Programmer, I am not.

[QRQD]

@Varkarrus

That code's broken. It'd output "YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA...". Agree with the sentiment though.

[Mirdan]

Have some code that will produce the proper sentiment:

final boolean AMAZEMENT = true;
while (AMAZEMENT)
       System.out.println("YAY!");

[crash826]

@Graven:

Will this be continued?

Yes.

In space.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS
IN SPAAAAAAACE
also obviously the space core will be the Core...
OF TIME.
And he will mope about it.

[PingZing]

Hot Blooded: Chapter 10

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Of the emotions warring for dominance in Tarfus’ mind, confusion was the victor of the moment. It narrowly beat out relief and frustration as he sat and wondered.

He had woken up to a sloppily bandaged left wrist, and a modestly-sized recuperacoon. When he’d poked his head out of the slime, the pink moon was just rising. Just past evening for this time of perigree then. Most shocking, he was still alive, and apparently not in a holding cell. It had been a full five minutes before his heat-blistered skin, tortured muscles, and wire-tense ligaments had loosened enough to allow him to pull himself out of his recuperacoon. With the aid of the sopor slime’s pain-deadening effects, he had crawled his way over to the foot of the window. Disregarding the trail of slime he left in his wake, he climbed into a chair thoughtfully placed under the window. The view revealed a vast expanse of waves crashing against the base of the compound far below.

He’d stared at the distant water below for several long minutes. The turbulent waves served as an accurate, albeit inverted mirror of his mood. At the moment, he was feeling oddly at peace. He was alive. If the lock on the inside of the door was any indicator, he wasn’t imprisoned in this block. True, his co-conspirators were dead. True, he was presumably still in the clutches of his sworn enemy. True, he had been betrayed by his closest…friend.

That last thought had made him wince. Maybe he wasn’t quite as serene as he’d thought.

Either way, he was able to enjoy a moment of silence and solitude. For the first time in perhaps sweeps, his immediate future wasn’t clouded with the twin specters of fear and threat of death. He had faced the worst and while he hadn’t exactly won, losing brought its own brand of relief. The awful tension and uncertainty was gone. All that remained now was coming to terms with this strange new reality.

Then he’d seen the letter.

It had been sitting in an envelope on an end table artfully placed next to the chair. There were no markings, save for the Empress’ personal seal keeping it sealed. He’d slit the envelope open and pulled the letter out. It was written on plain paper, in serviceable black ink, the handwriting neat and precise.

Threshecutioner,

If you are reading this, you are both awake and alive. Good. I have need of you.

There are things you must know. First, your old name is dead, along with your old life. Speak not of them where others may hear. Second, there are those who would rather you dead; it would be tidier for them. Beware those who seek to gain your trust. Third, you must know that your presence here is a wild card—you are closer to your goal now than ever before. Use that opportunity wisely.

And then, in place of a signature, simply:

I am not what you think I am.

And then the letter had quietly and suddenly been enveloped in flame. Tarfus dropped the burning paper and shook soot from his hand. There was no trace the letter had ever existed, save for a small pile of ash and scorch marks on the table where the envelope had once rested.

Now Tarfus stared forlornly out the window. Even when he’d been killed and erased, he was still a pawn in her game. The Empress had sunk her claws firmly into him and, it appeared, had no intention of releasing him. What the hell did she mean, “You are closer to your goal now than ever before”? Surely she knew her death was his goal—why would she encourage that? Unless it was all a trap, to see if he would move against her, even in the circumstances. A trick to goad him into some final humiliation.

He’d be damned if he would give her the pleasure. A brief spark of rage flashed along his spine before being drowned by despair. What could he do under the Empress’ thumb, alone, with enemies on all sides? In the past, he’d relied upon finding allies sympathetic to his cause. He doubted his odds here, surrounded by the Empress’ personal staff, nobles and sycophants.

Frustrated, Tarfus stood up with a groan. Only half of his bones popped this time, but now that the sopor slime had mostly dripped away, he felt like a heater was being held against his entire front half. Wincing, he remembered his burns and made a note to see if he could get his hands on some kind of salve. Leaving the room suddenly seemed like a very good idea. That letter had unsettled him, and being unsettled begat anger. Activity calmed him down, if only marginally. He gave the room a second, cursory inspection to see if there were any clean clothes to be had. To his surprise, there were. A simple black silk robe along with a clean towel had been carefully folded and placed on a small stool near the door. Interestingly, the ensemble was completely devoid of any symbol, red or otherwise. It was considered poor etiquette at the least to offer a guest clothing without their symbol or at least color, even if it was nothing more than a wristband. Going out in public without your symbol was considered either very arrogant, or very stupid. Being discovered by authorities without wearing one was grounds for immediate culling, as was wearing a false symbol. The Empress’ decision to exclude one from his outfit was worrying. Tarfus felt like she was trying to tell him something.

He angrily stripped off his slime-damp clothing, toweled off and shrugged on the robe. The Empress was playing a game with him and he hated being anybody’s plaything. He straightened the robe and tied it shut with a sash around his waist before ripping the door open with a snarl. He was going to get some answers, dammit. He stormed into the hallway beyond without regard for what might be on the other side and turned to the first person he saw. He grabbed them by the shirt and yanked them close.

“Tell me where I can find some medical supplies and some clothes that don’t make me look like some prissy prophet, or I’ll tear your airsacs out,” he said by way of greeting, then took a look the unfortunate troll he’d cornered.

She was wearing a stiffly-starched navy-blue suit coat top with maroon highlights and a burgundy skirt. Two horns curled out of long, unruly black hair, and maroon lipstick covered her lips. Her surprised expression quickly morphed into annoyance, and she held a hand toward Tarfus, palm out. Tarfus felt an unseen force lift him up by the shoulders and leave him suspended in midair. The woman stepped back, freeing her shirt from Tarfus’ grasp and crossed her arms.

“Really now, is a little bit of courtesy so much to ask for?” She asked calmly.

Oh shit, she was a psychic. Tarfus hated psychics. Always so smug and superior and self-assurred. Always parading around their superior holy shit wait a minute was she a maroon-blood? Tarfus spotted her symbol’s coloring and immediately reevaluated his opinion of her. Simmering dislike rather than hate was in order, perhaps.

“Okay, I can admit that threatening to tear your airsacs out might have been a little premature. All I want is some fucking directions. Is that so hard?” Tarfus said.

The maroonblood let him go, and he fell to the floor with an undignified squwak. “That’s a little better, I suppose,” she said. “How about this—I’ll take you where you want to go on one condition.”

Tarfus narrowed his eyes. “That being what?”

“I have to move some things. You’re going to carry them for me,” she said, a smile blooming on her face.

“And if I say that’s a fucking stupid idea?”

She shrugged, still smiling. “Well, I suppose you can find things on your own. Good luck navigating the compound without an escort, or even a symbol. Guards see you alone, and you’re lightly-charred grubloaf.”

Tarfus snarled. “Fine, if that’s what it takes to not get perforated by some moron wannabe rent-a-soldier with a goddamn spear.” He gestured for the other troll to lead the way and she smugly obliged.

The pair spent much of the journey in silence, Tarfus glaring at any passerby that stared too hard. And anybody who looked annoying. And some others, just for good measure; it never hurt to maintain an image, after all.

“What, may I ask, is a red-blood,” She said, eyeing his healed wounds, “Doing in the guest’s chambers anyway? Much less with no sense of direction?” The woman asked, an expression of vague interest on her features.

Tarfus continued glaring at a guard until he was no longer in line of sight before turning to her and responding. “It’s a moronic saga of incompetence and bewilderment,” he responded truthfully. “If I figure it out before my grisly death, maybe I’ll find it in me to give enough of a shit to let you know.”

The woman smiled. “Oh, good!”

Tarfus’ head swung around to regard her with bafflement. “Good? How the fuck is my probably-impending death good?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it means you have an excuse for being an insufferable asshole.”

“Hey, fuck you. I’ll have you know that compared to what any other sane man would be like right now, I’m like starshine and roses. I am friend to tiny purrbeasts everywhere right now, I am Pupa fucking Pan, okay? No one is in a friendlier mood than me right now.”

“That’s funny, I don’t recall Pupa Pan glaring at everybody he ever met and threatening them with bodily harm.”

“Well then I guess you got the sanitized version of the story, redlips.”

The woman turned an disbelieving stare toward Tarfus. “Redlips? That’s the best you can come up with?”

Tarfus turned away and looked down. “Fuck off, it’s been a long couple of nights.”

She turned away, barely hiding a smile. “Clearly.” She turned into a room indistinguishable from the rest. “In here.”

Tarfus followed her into a dusty room full of dusty filing cabinets and shelves full of thin huskboard boxes, papers and binders. Shelves and cabinets stretched into the dusty gloom in the distance. Tarfus propped himself up against the doorframe while the woman rooted through several of the boxes near the entrance, muttering to herself.

Tarfus endured this for a moment for before speaking up. “I guess Redlips is a pretty fucking stupid name. What should I call you instead?”

“My name is Lucida. That’ll do,” she said, hefting a large box full into her arms. She shifted it to one arm, and pointed at two more boxes with her free hand. “Get those two and the directions are all yours, Scowls.”

Tarfus glared, and reached down to lift the boxes. “Scowls? I thought I was terrible with nicknames, but that takes the metaphorical idiot cake.” He stacked the two boxes atop each other and staggered as he lifted both into his arms. “What the hell are you making me carry, woman? Rectangular building things?!”

Lucida snickered. “Worse, papers. I’m the Royal Historian, and the Empress has me digging through the archives for references to some old legend. What you’ve got in your arms is the result of three weeks of painstaking research.”

Tarfus followed her out the door, shifting the boxes to one side so he could see. “Holy shit, you wasted all this time on some stupid legend?”

“When the Empress asks, it’s not exactly possible to deny her. And besides, I think it’s interesting. Our civilization has a fascinating history, but so many insist on blindly ignoring it. I think investigating the past with the present’s insight can shed light on any number of mysteries,” said Lucida.

Tarfus grunted. “Fascinating and heavy. Why aren’t you using your fancy psychic powers to just magic these around, anyway?”

“Because it takes about as much energy as physically lifting them. Besides, exercise is healthy for you.”

Tarfus grunted. “How much further?”

Lucida rolled her eyes. “Just around the corner, you soulless lout.”

She led him around a corner and unlocked a door at the end of a short hall and shouldered it open. Tarfus followed blindly, the boxes obscuring his view. Because of this, he didn’t see the door’s raised threshold, and rammed his toe into it. He stumbled into the room, landing heavily on one knee, and bashed his arm against the corner of a desk.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Isn’t tonight just incredible already.” He had somehow maintained his hold on the boxes, and set them aside before using them to lever himself back upward. “Great, and this worthless pile of shit robe is already torn. I cannot believe anybody actually wears these things, it’s like wearing paper. I bet I couldn’t even cull some insubordinate bulgelicker without tearing out a seam.”

Tarfus took a step away from the desk before stumbling, suddenly woozy. His head spun and he sank back to his knees, and all his aches and pains from earlier were suddenly clamoring for attention in his thinkpan all at once. No wonder he’d felt so chipper these past few minutes, the sopor slime’s residual effects had been numbing it all. Rookie mistake, Depinza, and now you’re gonna pay for it...

“You had better not bleed on my papers,” Lucida said, frowning down at him.

“What?” Tarfus mumbled. Then what Lucida had said sunk it. “Oh fuck me,” he hissed, and slapped his hand down over the torn sleeve. He looked up to see if Lucida had noticed, but she was just staring disdainfully.

“You’re a maroon. So?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Force of habit,”he said, thinking quickly. “Spend as long as I have in a threshecutioner outfit, and you don’t want to go around reminding anybody how red you are.” Good, she hadn’t gotten a good look, just had to keep it that way.... Tarfus stood up. “Anyway, you’ve gotten some packbeast service out of me. Now where the hell can I find some damn supplies already?”

“And rob myself of more creative opportunities to abuse you?” At Tarfus’ glare, she chuckled. “Fine. You can probably find a spare guard’s uniform if you go downstairs, that’s where all the cleaning is done. As for medical supplies, you’re in luck.” Lucida tossed a purple box with a green cross on the front at him. “I’m also an arcaheologist; ancient ruins aren’t the safest place in the world. This thing has saved my life at least once. It should be good enough to get the job done on you.”

Tarfus fumbled to catch the box, surprised. He slapped it into the air with his right hand. He leapt up, and caught it with his left, arm fully extended. His sleeve fell down to his wrist, exposing it as a spasm of pain ran through it. He had reacted without thinking—his left was the wrist that had been perforated by the Empress earlier. He drew his wrist back to his body and clutched it against his chest, swearing. The medical kit fell to the ground, forgotten.

And suddenly Lucida was there, grabbing his wrist. She looked at the bandages covering his wound, still greenish and damp in parts from being soaked in the sopor slime. And right in the center of the bandage, a tiny circle of damning crimson. She looked sharply up at Tarfus.

“I knew something was fishy about you,” she breathed. “What’s your story, Scowls?”

Tarfus grit his teeth unconsciously. He was in no position to kill Lucida bare-handed and injured. He’d be lucky if he could so much as knock her unconscious, especially with her psychic power backing her up. He had nothing with which to bribe her into disinterest. He had no choice but to fall back upon his weapon of last resort—his words.

“Would you believe I’m so high on the hemospecturm, I’m the only one with this color?” He growled.

Lucida snorted. “Not a chance. The only one with that dubious honor is Her Condescension, and you don’t look like an Empress. But I find you stumbling and looking like reheated death in her compound, bursting out of one of her guest chambers. You have no idea where you are, so you grab the first person you find and try to throttle answers out of them. You’re used to being obeyed, even if it’s reluctantly. So I ask again—who are you?”

Tarfus grimaced and decided to go for broke. He was already living on borrowed time. What was one more withdrawl? “Fine. Officially, I’m a dead man. I tried to kill the Empress, but, fucking shock, turns out that’s a lot harder than you’d think. The shithive broad decided to spare me for some reason, and now here I am, as clueless as you are. In fact, you might have a better idea than me—sounds like you have to deal with her bullshit on a semi-regular basis. So, miss historian, here’s the ultimate riddle: why did the mighty Empress spare a mutant-blooded revolutionary?”

Lucida stared at him, agape. “That’s got to be the single most outrageous story I’ve ever heard.”

Tarfus returned her stare with a glare. “Blood doesn’t lie. You ever seen a maroon this bright? No, you haven’t. Because I’m not a fucking maroon. I’m so low, I’ve fallen off the ass-end of the spectrum. You want proof of the rest, go ask your precious Empress yourself. She’ll probably answer in questions and riddles. Hell, she may deny my very existence. I am quite literally past caring.”

Tarfus snatched his wrist back from Lucida’s unresisting hand, and clenched his other fist to prevent the spasm of pain from showing in his face. He took the medical kit from where it had fallen, turned, and left the room without another word. Lucida stared after him, speechless.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful—he had some notion of what the Empress wanted with him. He simply had no intention of spreading it around. He wasn’t sure he even liked to think about it himself.

So he didn’t. He had clothes to find.

Notes

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And we're finally back to the present! A little bit of filler, a little bit of character development, a lot of character introduction. I tell you, the middle portion of this chapter was like squeezing blood from a stone, but I think I've got a handle on this next segment now. I actually wanted to make a joke about Lucida's profession sounding ridiculously harmless to Tarfus, but it wouldn't fit anywhere. Maybe elsewhere!

Also, that bit about psychic power=physical exertion was sort of a last-minute addition, and is probably going to come back to bite me in the logistics later. Oh well, I'll figure it out.

[catastrophicGenesis]

PingZing: Still liking the Adventures of Tarfus, especially now the premise is all set up and the story's starting to really get going. =3

[A Fan]

Cross-posting from the Easter Art Trade thread:

Originally for cyclicCircumferentia, who requested an interaction between Karkat and either Jade or Kanaya:

Toil and Trouble

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The dream bubbles, like anything associated with the zoologically dubious sovereigns of the Furthest Ring, are much more than they first appear. To the layman (or laytroll,) the bubbles appear to be free floating orbs of psychic territory relatively insulated from the mind-rupturing nature of their creators. On occasion, the inscrutable æthers that fill the space between spaces will propel two or more bubbles in contact with one another, allowing interaction between two dead dreamers, provided one of them can break through the eternal recreation of memories.
The bubbles are also a form of entertainment for the inhabitants of the Ring, from the leastmost patrician to the Noble Circle themselves. Some content themselves to toy with the veil that usually separate the bubbles' subjects from their awareness of their deceased status, resulting in nagging sensations of deja vu. Others briefly rend the fabric of the orbs to inflict their full horrendous presence on the delicate things of mortal thought and feast upon the resulting horror and fear, or convince those thought-constructs to open the way for them. However, such practice is rare and frowned upon. As the saying goes, one does not slay the Black Goat with A Thousand Young simply to shear her unspeakable wool.
The most subtle form of dark recreation involving the bubbles is practiced only by a select few, those with the subtlety, patience, and capacity for approximating mortal cognition capable of maximizing the resulting emotional reactions. It involves manipulating the æthers in such a way as to cause a specific select group of bubbles to intersect. Once they do, their occupants then tear into each other far more effectively yet renewably than any other method.
Among the best of these caliginous matchmakers, was R'tundr'glash, Tumescent Scion of the Fustulent Nethertaint. Her nineteen whistling maws were well practiced in whipping the sepulchral medium of her home dimension in any direction she willed. As such, her seven eyes, no two shaped quite the same, beheld with eager delight the confluence of two bubbles which she had been meticulously guiding for days. From the psychic exhaust she had sampled from each, the meeting of these two would likely result in a truly explosive display of rage and vitriol. She laughed, a chorus of chittering whistles and pops like the Devil's own R2 unit, as her piercing oculi beheld the first sparks.

"Hah! Hi-yah! Take this! And that! And one of THOSE!" If asked, Karkat would say he was practicing his sickle technique for his future service in the threshecutioner corps. Anyone else would opine that he was flailing about in his room and generally making a fool of himself. Karkat, if he heard such an opinion, would then tell that person in no uncertain terms what they could do with their opinion. Suffice to say, it would involve three enraged spleenfowl and a festermelon.
Clearly, this was unknown to the person who he heard giggling at his training/antics.
"Who the fuck—" The troll paused as he struggled to accept what he was seeing. Alien species were not a new concept to him, not after trolldom's long string of glorious conquests. But never in his schoolfeeding had he heard of something so eerily similar to his own species that it made the differences stand out all the more. The flesh was unnaturally pale, the fangs ludicrously blunted, and the eyes... Eyes just didn't come in that color.
"Hi, Karkat." The voice was downright surreal. He could tell that this strange parody of a troll had made sounds that would normally not make any sense to him whatsoever, but the intended message was as obvious as Troll Adam Sandler's talent.
"Who... How...?"
There came that giggle again. High, oddly musical. He didn't think a chitinous windpipe could make that kind of sound. "This must be what it's like on the other end."
The nub-horned youth managed to regain some measure of composure. "Look, I don't know what you are, how you got in my room, or how you know my name. Frankly, I don't care. I just want you out of my hive!"
The pale creature didn't seem to notice his tirade. Maybe the weird translation effect was one way only? "Do you even un—" She – for some reason he was certain it was female – was approaching him. Karkat took a startled leap back and brandished the sickle still in his hand. "Stay back! I'm not afraid to use this!" It was a bluff, and a shoddy one. If the symbol on her dress was any indication, she could simply order him to stand down and he'd have to comply. Indeed, he had already committed high treason by threatening a blueblood.
A sad smile was not the expression he had expected. Furious, insulted outrage? Certainly. But this kind of piteous expression was sending all sorts of confusing mixed signals. "Oh, Karkat. Are you really so lost in your own memories?"
"The fuck are you talking about?"
A sigh. Sweet Troll Jegus (wait, who?), did he forget he had found a matesprit? Some sort of flushed mutant solidarity? "Karkat," she said, voice heavy with regret, "you're dead."
"What do you—"

Flames. A golden city, an entire golden planet ablaze. Towers falling as he watches, thoughts still hazy from just awakening.
Sudden movement. He looks up. A tall, trolliform shape, silhouetted against the fire. Wait, no. It's just that black. Head of a beast. Wings. A sword. A hand stained with blood the same shade that fills his own mutant veins. That's what tips him off. "Jack?"
The Demon shows him its stabs. Everything goes dark.

When Karkat comes to, he finds himself in the same position: Prone, hands up in a futile attempt at defense. Thankfully, it's still his room, and the closest person is far more welcoming than the god-dog-prototyped Dersite who punctuated the troll's scant waking moments. His mind goes back through the past few minutes and deduces her identity. "Jade?"
She smiles. How do you even get fangs that blunt? "Good, you remembered!"
"Yeah, I—" He stops dead, no pun intended. The wounds Noir had inflicted have reopened, staining his shirt candy red. Pointless as it is, he curls into a pupal position.
Her expression shows only concern. Did she really not notice? "What's wrong?"
"I... It's..." He pauses, thinks, sighs. He's already dead. What's the worst that could happen now? He releases his knees. "Well, it's pretty self-fucking-explanatory." He braces for the disgust.
It never comes. Just more concern. It's like the girl's made of pity humors or something. "Does it hurt?"
He looks at her, protein chute agape. Does it hurt? What kind of question is that? Actually, he knows the answer to that: A rhetorical one asked of a kismesis during an interlude of black passion. But in this context, in a tone free of affectionate hatred, it simply doesn't make sense, especially when he's bleeding a color that shouldn't fucking exist.
His mental rant is interrupted by a shove. "Hey fuckass, I asked you a question!"
The sudden attitude shift only confuses him further, but at least anger is something he knows how to deal with. "Who the fuck do you think you're calling fuckass, fuckass?"
"The same fuckass who called me a fuckass!" She sits in a huff. "Honestly, I was hoping we could set aside the whole trolling thing."
"Why?" He's careful to modulate it so it sounds less like a genuine question and more like an implied insult, but he finds that he actually does want to know.
"I've met some of the other trolls, and they're nice. Weird, at times, but nice."
Curiosity overrides the residual anger. "...Who have you met?"
"Well, first was Feferi, who..." Jade shudders for a moment. "Well, she clearly doesn't mind the... ambiance."
"She was raised by a mind-strangling aberration. A few more aren't going to do much." He gives a sarcastic huff. "Honestly, I'm surprised you were so freaked out. You'd think a First Guardian for a lusus would inure you to this shit."
"Well it doesn't." She's clearly uncomfortable. "Anyway, I met a whole bunch a little while ago. One was even alive!"
Karkat frowns. Now that he's aware, he remembers the particulars of the bubbles. At least, what the heiress to the throne had told him. "That doesn't make any sense."
"It was Aradia. She had a hoodie and fairy wings!"
"She..." The troll's mind pauses as he digests this. "She entered God Mode?"
"I guess."
"Wow. That's... Wow."

R'tundr'glash gave an irritated gurgle. The animosity these two had displayed in their memories was monumental. Why weren't they trying to kill each other? Or at least shouting? Disgusted with both her uncooperative playthings and her own rare misjudgment, the Scion wends her way to other, more engaging beings.

And originally for frozenWarlock, who wanted some Felt shenanigans:

Performance Review

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Crowbar sighed as he beheld the two members of the Felt sitting before him. Both were taller, stronger, and a damn sight crueler than he was, but they squirmed in their seats like two kindergardeners called to the principal's office. "Look, boys," began the gang's day-to-day leader, "it's not that I'm angry. I ain't even annoyed. Right now, I'm just confused. I just want to know: Why?"
Both men started rambling, their voices drowning each other out like a Klein bottle in a cement shoe. Crowbar held up a hand. "Allow me to rephrase that. I just want to know why from each of you in turn." He turned to the one with the prominent brow ridge and bandolier. "Matchsticks, we'll start with you. Why did you do it?"
The man adjusts his red-striped hat as he puffs a breath through pursed lips. "Well, Crow – can I call you Crow?"
"No."
"Fair enough. Crowbar, you have to understand, this was a very complicated scenario, very tricky and intricate, all kinds of loops and near-paradoxes that had to managed with a delicate touch—"
There was a pronounced clank, as of metal on wood. A bent, crimson length of steel had been place on the desk, gripped in the senior Felt's hand. "Are you implying," he asked, tone perfectly friendly, "that I lack a delicate touch?"
Eyes widened, Matchsticks frantically shook his head. "Oh no. No nononono. I assure you, sir, anything but. A model of control and delicacy, I'm always saying. Ain't that right, Quarters?"
The other Felt in the room snorted. While his underbite made it difficult to tell, he appeared to be smirking. "Ain't gonna pull ya out of a hole ya dug yerself, 'Sticks."
"Yeah, well nuts to you. See if I agree to help you on some cockamamie scheme next time a—"
The man in the 14 hat shot to his feet. "You help me!? Which one of us promised half his pay fer a month fer help on this—?"
"Quarters, please. Decorum." Crowbar's voice remained perfectly calm and contained. His titular implement, however, was pointed at his burly compatriot in the green-striped hat. "This is not a trial, not a condemnation. This is simply an attempt to understand what transpired, when, why, and because of whom."
The disgruntled Felt sat, muttering a "Sorry, Crowbar."
"No need for apology, my friend." #7 gave a small smile. "And we are all friends here, after all." He nodded to the other. "Matchsticks, please continue."
He returned a much more eager nod of his own. "Of course, sir. As I was saying, highly elaborate temporal manipulation here, far beyond most of the gang – not including yourself, of course – but I was assured that the reward would match the risk."
"You were assured?" Crowbar raised an eyebrow. "By whom, exactly?"
"Ah, well, confidential sources, trust between informant and informed, you know how it is—"
Crowbar's mouth curved downward. Matchsticks' obfuscation immediately cut off. "No, Matchsticks," said his superior, "I don't know how it is. Especially when 'it' refers to an informant of whose very existence you did not see fit to inform the rest of the gang, much less whatever it was he, she, they, or it was or were telling you. Especially when your temporal artifacts are, by nature, finite and consumable. Especially when you endanger not yourself but another member of this organization on what, at first impression, appears to be a fruitless escapade that can only end in either humiliation and death." By this point, Crowbar was standing, his voice at a volume that wasn't quite a shout but clearly was unsuitable for normal conversation. "So please, Matchsticks, explain to me precisely who it was who told you to do this."
#11 nervously picked at his bandolier for a moment as he swallowed the knot that had managed to incorporate his entire alimentary canal. Finally, head ducked, he managed, "...the Doc."
This stopped Crowbar cold. Stunned, he sank back into his chair. "The Doc?"
"He said it was mission critical. According to him, if I didn't do it, everything we were working towards would go up in smoke." He gave another puff to emphasize.
"I... see." Hesitantly, Crowbar turned to the other member. "Quarters, did you know about this?"
The tallest occupant of the room shook his head warily. "News t' me, sir. Far as I knew, this was all 'Sticks's idea."
The Felt in the solid red hat gave a long sigh as he considered what to do. English himself had explained that his first subordinate would, on occasion, send a missive to the future if that future was in peril. Every member of the Felt was to follow the orders in the message to the letter, no questions asked. Finally, Crowbar nodded to himself. "Well, I can't discipline following orders, no matter how stupid they may seem. You can both go."
"Thank you, sir." Matchsticks left so fast, the only thing indicating that he hadn't used a match was the absence of a smoke trail.
"Just one thing, sir..."
"Yes, Quarters?"
The lower Felt held up a massive sack, bulging with rounded objects. "What all do I do with th' eggs?"
Crowbar shrugged. "Stick 'em in the kitchen and pray Slick never finds out who sabotaged his Easter Egg hunt."

[potatomato]

AW YISS MORE WIZARDSTUCK

And I promise that magicalgirl!karkat as soon as ap's die down x_x (I hate my life)

[Nox]

Herp derp, finally some Wizardstuck. Part of a 2 to 3 part miniseries, no less.

Wizardstuck: Animagus 1

Oh, I am LIKING this...I wanna see Vriska become a Spider Lusus Animagus and explore the forbidden forest...and end up getting hit on by one of the giant spiders who live there...

"Her exoskeleton is as white as snow, she's beautiful! I must have her."

"Aragog would be so angry if he found out you were flirting with some strange white spider you've never seen before..."

[ceruleanTresses]

Finally finished this! It's a rewrite of "Walking Far From Home" by Iron and Wine. Props to wilySubversionist for introducing me to the song!

Trolls Were Walking Far From Home

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(Aradiabots sing the background vocals.)

I WAS WALKING FAR FROM HOME
AND I CARRIED A BURDEN NO ONE KNOWS.
SAW A WINDOW INTO HEAVEN,
AND A DOOR SLAMMING CLOSED, DOOR SLAMMING CLOSED

i SAW BLUE BLOOD, sCRAWLED ON STONE TO
fORM A PLEA THAT, iN WEAKNESS, i DENIED,
aND I LEFT HER TO HER TORMENT,
aND i DREAMT i COULD FLY, dREAMT i COULD FLY

i was walking far fr0m h0me
i 0beyed every beat and every chime
as bleak ch0irs of gh0stly v0ices
whispered "tangled in time, tangled in time”

i heard d00m in cries 0f terr0r,
i saw bl00d and a bit of it was mine.
it depressed me and enraged me,
but it kept me in line, kept me in line

I Was Walking Far From Home
And I Saw My Last Purpose Torn Away
I Was Smothered And Rekindled
And I Shone Like The Day, Shone Like The Day

1 S4W GOLD WH3N 1 W4S DR34M1NG,
S4W TH3 CLOUDS FOR3T3LL MY FUTUR3 1N TH3 SK13S
1 S4W SUNL1GHT 4ND B3TR4Y4L,
4ND 1T BURN3D OUT MY 3Y3S, BURN3D OUT MY 3Y3S

Saw a Circle slick as seaweed,
And I joined in its deep eternal song.
It's -EXCITING t) (at I'm finally
W) (ere I reelly belong, reelly belong

D--> Saw a highb100d, whom I knew w001d
D--> Seek to slay my appeaser and my guide
D--> I would fight him to defend her
D--> But I'm not STRONG inside, not STRONG inside

:33 < saw my friends purrtrayed in pigments
:33 < and a pair of hearts painted on a stone.
:33 < they dont know how much im wishing
:33 < that they werent alone, werent alone

saww cathedrals in a gray land
wwhere my wweepin echoed lonely in the halls
lovveless angels seemed to mock me
and i slaughtered them all, slaughtered them all

i saw blood and laughter mingled,
THROUGH A BLISS THAT WAS NOTHING BUT A SHAM.
now i'm finally thinking clearly,
AND I KNOW WHO I REALLY AM, KNOW WHO I AM.

I've 8een walking far from home,
It's so hard, and no8ody understands.
I'm a goddess, light incarn8,
8ut I can't wash the 8lood from my, can't wash the 8lood from my hands.

As usual, I've inserted punctuation where absolutely necessary even where it goes against a quirk.

Incidentally, the Transhuman alt-session has not been abandoned. I'm probably not going to update it again until I'm done with classes in a couple of weeks, though--I've been super busy. But summer is soon, and I will finally be able to start regularly contributing again! Hurray!

[Twigwise]

CT, that was great. Is it based off of a song? I'd love to know what tune (if any) it's to be read in. Aah, I see. Never heard of the song but it sounds great ^^

:33 < saw my friends purrtrayed in pigments
:33 < and a pair of hearts painted on a stone.
:33 < they dont know how much im wishing
:33 < that they werent alone, werent alone

This part in particular actually was very touching and kind of sad. Very nice.

EDITx2 I think I have to sing this and I'm not even good at singing '3'

[ceruleanTresses]

CT, that was great. Is it based off of a song? I'd love to know what tune (if any) it's to be read in.

Sorry about that! I accidentally edited out the song name/link when I crossposted it from Lyric Rewrites. It's there now. Also, thanks!

I think I have to sing this and I'm not even good at singing '3'

If you do, make sure you post it in the Lyric Rewrites and Singing thread! We are always looking for singers.