Bro's lifestyle gets him into more hot water. Fallout of an averted war between rappers and juggalos. Man, I missed doing this. Hell there may even be follow up. Enjoy!
Sitting on the atrificially chilly concrete floor, Bro feels like he's sunk somewhere around the level of a cockroach. No, more like a centipede or something; cockroaches were at least sturdy motherfuckers. Ass slowly going numb from lack of blood flow, elbows propped on his folded knees, fingers dug into his hair, Bro felt anything but sturdy right now. Physically, spritually, and mentally. And morally. And normally. And whatever the fuck else adverb that kept him from thinking of the little kid sitting in an apartment alone and probably wondering why the fuck his guardian wasn't back yet.
It wasn't his fault, exactly. Exceptions had to be made for routines and promises; sometimes you just couldn't stop things. Like massive traffic accidents. Or horrific acts of nature. Or murders, muggings, or assaults. Or earthquakes. Or the fucking sky falling on top of you.
Or retarded turf wars between rappers and Juggalos, apparently.
He let out a strained, disgusted sigh, trying not to let this fuck with his Zen too much. It was a little harder than normal, considering he was packed in with the group of rappers who had decided that a street war with crazy face-painted motherfuckers was absolutely the thing to do. At the moment, all packed in one big square of concrete, lined that was artistically lined with bars, they were attempting to squeeze themselved through the gaps, intent on continuing their blood feud with the pack of whackjobs across the row.
Fucking ridiculous, he thought, as he got jostled by the knees of one skinny guy who was practically barking with testosterone and rap fueled rage. Bro closed his eyes, shutting himself up against the sight of baggy jeans, colors, and chains.
He was all about live and let live, himself. As long as the skeevy douchecanoes stayed well away from him and his kid, that was. At the moment it didn't sound like he needed to worry about it too much, since the clowns were too busy threatening the sisters of the other guys.
Every once in a while, a uniform would come back and futilely shriek at them to shut the fuck up. He could have been a little yappy dog, for as much effect it had. He could barely be heard against the thunder of voices amplified by the enclosed space. Bro would have appreciated the acoustics a little more if it weren't giving him such a massive headache.
The headache wasn't helped by the swelling goose egg on his scalp. By the time the cops got to the street brawl that looked somwhere between a medieval battle and the most unlikely stage act between the Cirque du Soleil and rappers, they weren't about to sort things out on a case by case basis. It was mostly tackling, head-bashing, and cuffing. Bro, standing off to the side with a few of the guys who had decided not to get involved, was summarily yanked against a cruiser, head bouncing of the frame of the Crown Vic hard enough so that his vision washed out.
Now, sitting here and wishing that everyone would just vanish up their own ass, Strider was close to a mass murder just so that he could get the fuck home.
He didn't know how long it had been before a guy with the voice of a fog horn came in and bellowed out a few names, drawing glances from their owners. Strider was torn between relief and trepidation when he heard his name droned out, unsurprised to note that all of the names were the same guys who hadn't been trying to open up clowns to see if they really were filled with giggles and stupid.
A couple of beefy uniformed guards stood at the entrance of the small cell, while the fog horn blared a request to come to the door, warning the others to push back or they'd get tazed. Or maced. At this point, Bro was certain they would be just as willing to open up both cells doors and let them have at it, finish it up so everyone could go the fuck home.
Bro felt himself being helped up by a few guys who were still busy yelling threats and staring daggers across the way. He was drawn out through the mass of bodies, the fog horn voice belonging to a plain clothes cop who told one of the uniforms to go on up.
Holy shit. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?
Surprisingly, they were never addressed directly. There was a lot of talk about him and the few other guys, over their heads like they were pets or something, cops talking to witnesses, desk clerks talking to cops, cops reciting information from their drivers licenses. They were released into the dry, hot Houston air before Strider had time to figure out whether or not they were being measured for a box, or processed for release.
He turned to the others, their skin washed more pale by the anemic light of the station house. Their eyes glittered as they caught the light, flicking across each other. Soft fistbumps were exchanged, but no words, and they all swept from the concrete path and into the dark. Bro nearly felt like breaking into a retarded canter, caught up with the feeling of freedom.
The normal surge of adrenaline wasn't there, and the exhiliration after having dodged a bullet was curiously absent. For some fucking reason, he felt chilled, like a big empty box left inside a freezer. If felt like if he turned around, he'd catch sight of bars again. He rode a few buses, ignoring or dumb to the drunks and crazies, until he dumped himself on the stop nearest their apartment.
The fact he was out didn't really dawn on him until he saw his building.
He stopped on the sidewalk, fucking up the rhythm of a few pedestrians behind him, the walks never empty, even that late at night. For a second, his evening activities welled up under him, a dark bubble in his mind that momentarily eclipsed his sight.
Watching veins in necks stand out, eye bulge, arms flail as a couple dozen guys threatened to do shit to each other that only happened in places like Darfur. Flashes of blue and red, the whoop of a siren. The feel of a hand grabbing on his arm hard enough to make the bones in his forearm shift. His head making a dull impact against gleaming white metal. Bands of light as they slid over limbs and faces in the dark of a van, faces flat and eyes staring. The scrabble of voices, like claws against rock, in the underground holding cells.
The distant blare of a passing car horn brought the pavement back under his feet in a rush. Strider blinked at the sheen of windows extending above his head. If he craned his neck, he could spot his window. Both were dark. He drew in a breath of night air, too hot to be refreshing. He plowed into the lobby, straight arming the door open.
He rode the elevators up, wondering why he didn't text Dave when he'd been released. He'd been freaked enough in the car, the cell, trying to catch a few cops to ask if he could make a call to his kid, always waved off, or ignored, or yelled at to shut up. After half a dozen attempts, he'd given up, slumped on his ass in the cell, with the guys bellowing above him.
His keys rattled into the lock, and he let himself in, smelling and sensing Dave rather than seeing him. That feeling of relief finally washed over him. He swallowed something hard, caught deep in his throat. He shut and locked the door behind him, seeing the dim glow of the TV wash everything in anemic hues. For a second, he leaned his head against the door, for a second feeling as though he'd dodged a bullet.
He clenched his jaws against something that gripped his chest, tightening his arms and neck. He pressed his lips against his teeth, pushing down the freak out that he'd successfully averted until now.
The apartment was quiet, the only sound the TV on low, and the hum of the refridgerator. Strider crossed the room, feeling twice as old as the number on his license, and peered over the back of the futon.
Dave was slumped against the long crease of the back, legs still on the floor, but his upper body lax. His ribs rose and fell deeply and evenly. That strange pain gripped at his chest again, and he let a hand stray out, fingertips stirring the hair that plagued the kid's forehead. He hadn't showered, but he still felt soft to Bro.
"I'm sorry, kid." He heard a voice, close to him in the dark, and realized it was himself. It was too harsh and strained a whisper to be himself. He swallowed again, but didn't take his fingers away from the light contact they had on his brother's forehead.
He stood there for a little while, in the half dark, watching his kid sleep, looking loose and relaxed. For some reason, the light washing across his arm reminded him of the light in the van, on the way to the station.
Strider lowered his head, and let out a long breath. It had the whistling quality of the trail of a bullet that hadn't quite hit him, and he let himself be glad of that, just for a second.
Holy shit, page topper!
Strider brothers fics (many thanks go to egregiousBass for compiling them):
Musical Interlude- Dave tries to ironically score in the ongoing fight to one-up his brother. By joining the school chorus.
Trees and Tentacles- Bro's insomnia leads to inspired art and a little brotherly bonding time.
Undone- Dave tries to see his brother one last time.
Supermarket Shenanigans- in an early installment of the Striders, Bro looses Dave in a store. Cue panic.
My House- Dave butts heads with a lady friend of his brother's.
Binary- Bro's life and death are simple and convoluted affairs.
Climb- a brief look at where Bro is after he rocketboards off the roof.
Key- Bro teaches Dave the key behind being an ironic roof rapping ninja.
Parenthood- What Bro had to go through to make Dave what he is.
Parental Guidance- Parent teacher conferences are never fun for anyone involved.
Of Bathrooms and Beatdowns- The Striders' early morning rituals turn into unpleasant experiences at a party bro dj's at; aka roofies are never okay.
The Two of Us Are Dying- Bro has dreamt of his death sporadically for the past 13 years. Fallout.
Rap Battle!- One of the brothers' many sylladex hashrap battles. Chaos ensues.
If Illness was This One- Bro Strider is sick. Dave is not happy. The pumpkin shows up. [what pumpkin?]
Puppets and Porn- Bro Strider runs a faux/real puppet pr0n website from his home. With a minor in it. Of course someone was going to be totally not cool about it.
Puppet Porn pt II- Child protective services get called. Shit gets real. THE APARTMENT IS CLEAN OMGOMGOMGOMG
Voyeur- Jack Noir watches as Bro dies at his feet.
Surprise!- Dave wakes up on his birthday to the usual Strider shenanigans.
When "Puppets" Go Bad- Dave watches a clip of a video on Bro's computer of what looks to be a puppet trying to kill him in his sleep. Though, that's not quite the case.
Ideas like that are how Poker Night at the Inventory got conceived. That is to say, they are good ideas (that I will not understand because I can't get into Team Fortress but other people do so go for it).
Last edited by SkaianRedeemer; 12-15-2011 at 10:29 PM.
Your name is Asukat Vantas, and you are done with this adventure game horseshit narrative. If the author wants it in second person, then so be it, but it’s time for some exposition, anyway. See, you are independent of practically everything. Of a lusus (oh gog, it abandoned you when it saw the cut), of friends (they don’t like you, nobody likes you, your hideous blood doesn’t deserve it), and of troll society in general (hemospectral outcast)
Point is, today, your plans for revolution have been dashed on the rocks. Some thickheaded bipolar pevert has dropped you into some type of fantasy world, and there’s supposed to be some sort of apocalypse? You don’t know, but it sounds like a major hindrance of glorious uprising, whatever it is. This “Land of Pulse and Glass” (red, red everywhere, taunting you) is the mother of immersive simulated worlds, and not at all what you signed up for when you agreed to sgrub. It sounds like there’s a lot of obligation involved. You’re a very busy woman. That’s right, woman (I don’t need you, Shamshel).
Shinzi better be prepared for a rant. You need to get this out of your system.
…
Your name is Shinzi Makara, and you need to relax. Really. The stress of impending meteoric downfall was the least that you needed, and now you’re in the weirdest locale. Land of Brains and Mirth, what the hell? It looks weirder than it sounds. You’ve decided to stay inside. Your lususprite, Sachiel, has been no comfort, seeing as to how it plainly wishes it could just thoughtlessly wander into the sea, like it normally does. You wish you could curl up into your recoupracoon and unconsciously inhale sopor go to sleep, but Asukat keeps pestering you to be a good server player and help her, and you can’t complain. You mustn’t run away of course, seeing how you are needed.
mustn’t MOTHERFUCKING run AWAY
run
RUN
Run
RUN
rhymes with fun :o)
What was that? Blacked out for a second. Never had those violent dreams other trolls had, its more just soul-searching existentialist trauma. You fear that, when you lose awareness for even a second, the violence that your race exudes bubble up. But, that’s just-
SsSsSsIlly.
…
Your name is Reida Megido and you are not okay with your server player. He seems to know too many things. You don’t like that, you think. Or maybe you do. It’s been so long since you could easily tell. Ah, well.
Shinzi is a good enough client player, though he seems a little frightened. That is all right. That is acceptable. That is Hunky-Dory. That Kawoya knows something you don’t.
Bad thoughts, never mind. Just let the Void embrace you, especially here, in you rightful place in the land of Caves and Silence. Let the ancient texts of the Grand Highblood, along with the dead’s whispering, guide your every action. It is much easier this way. You think, deep down, you don’t want it to be easy. But that is ridiculously illogical. Who doesn’t want experiences to be easy?
Wh0?
Will help?
…
Your name is Kawoya Maryam, and you have a feeling everything is going to turn out all right. You may scare your teammates a little, that’s fine. You may have made an unsavory dead with a first guardian that was not your deal to make, and need to pay the price sooner or later- well that’s all right, too. You’ll make up for that.
Regarding matters at hand, you’ve prototyped the rare old Virgin Father Grub, Dear Adam, with success, and now all of the enemies on the land of Rays and Angels have moth wings. How odd, yet delightful. You hope to speak to some trolls in person soon; you’ve been so isolated all your life. Despite of the unsavory plan, you still feel this way.
Odd thing, troll emotion. You’ve spent your whole life brooding on the philosophy, but have never shared it with another Alternian. You deeply pity this Shinzi character, but when you asked him to full buckets with you, he automatically disconnected. You're eager to get back, and find out if it was something you said. Like as was stated, you really need some more experience. Right out in the middle of the desert hasn’t exactly been a good practice ground
Your interests? So kind of you to ask. Mostly the works of Troll!Beethoven. Such a master of the electric Guitar and the soul-pumping, lungbowel screech you will never heart.
Last edited by Grand Mal; 01-14-2012 at 09:08 PM.
Originally Posted by Almighty Janitor
That's the thing with fanfiction.net reviews, every fic tends to get blind praise even if it's no good. It's like the antithesis of YouTube or something.
Originally Posted by MrCheeze
and everyone knows the platonic ideal of misaimed-fan-ness only cares about trolls
Something A Little Special
Loading Dice and Counting Cards
>Be Kanaya Maryam
You are now KANAYA MARYAM.
You don't particularly like being told what to do, but you can let it slide, just this once. You are currently standing outside the hive of ERIDAN AMPORA. Not that you're there to visit him, you just so happen to be out there at that moment. See, you're following this seadweller's ship. This seadweller cheated you in POKER. You motherfucking own at POKER. It's like, POKER is a SPONGY STARCH FOOD, and you're its CALORIE-FREE FILLING. Or something. You don't know shit about much besides GAMBLING. You're pretty good at that.
You're also good at REVENGE. Which is what you're enacting. In case that hadn't been picked up yet. You pull out your special DIE. These DIE are actually bombs. You have a lot of mundane items that turn into dangerous weaponry. That is how you PLAY. Or something. You let out your IRONING BOARD/CANNON and load those DIE/BOMBS in. Then, you shoot them at the ship. Surprisingly, the ship sinks. By surprisingly, you mean, it's not at all surprising.
You always hit your mark, without exception.
>Congratulate self on job well done
That was pretty nifty, if you do say so yourself. Like, wow, how are you so damn foxy, KANAYA MARYAM? You ask that to yourself everyday, and your answer is because you're motherfucking KANAYA MARYAM, that's why. It's like, you can't even get enough of yourself. Is it possible to be red for your own self? Well, it is now, as decreed by KANAYA MOTHERFUCKING MARYAM. When tales of your exploits are passed down to others, you will be known as KANAYA THE MOTHERFUCKER.
You're like, wow, what a foxy babe.
>Engage in self makeouts
One day, you'll make this happen.
>Be interrupted
ERIDAN: kanaya what in the fuck are you doing in front of my HIVE.
KANAYA: Oh. HellO Eridan. Uh. Just getting revenge.
KANAYA: Why?
ERIDAN: BECAUSE I NEED TO FUCKING TEST SOME SHIT OUT SO IF YOU WOULD KINDLY GET THE FUCK OUT, THAT WOULD BE JUST swell.
ERIDAN: thanks.
KANAYA: Geez. SpOilspOrt.
>Return to your own hive
Some day you're going to show Eridan just how cool you are. And he'll be all "OH WOW KAN YOU ARE SO AMAZING I WANNA BE YOUR manservant." And you'll be all like,
"Hell no."
And he'll be all like,
"D:"
And you'll laugh.
Ha ha.
>Stare at self in mirror
Man.
Look at that body.
>Get trolled
OPEN PESTERLOG:
condescendinglyAwesome [CA] began trolling astonishinglyGorgeous [AG]
CA: Hello, KAnAyA.
AG: Vriska.
CA: Licten. I've got A propocition for you.
CA: I hAve thic gAme. It'c pretty...
CA: Nifty.
CA: ac you would cAy. and I would like you to join me.
CA: ac friendc.
AG: Pssh. Friends? With yOu?
AG: Like, psssssssssssssh.
CA: Ugh, you cound juct like one of GAmzee'c friggin popc.
CA: Licten, juct plAy with me, okAy?
AG: Oh, high and mighty Vriska is begging tO me?
CA: Oh, come off it. You wanna go red for yourcelf.
CA: I meAn, I'm Awecome. But, reAlly? ThAt'c nacty.
AG: Like yOu haven't cOnsidered it befOre.
AG: Besides, nOt a single persOn is gOOd enOugh fOr all Of this.
CA: "I meAn, wOw, whAt A bAbe I Am."
CA: You're exActly like A broken record.
CA: You know whAt, forget I even hAd thic convercAtion with you.
AG: Fine, I guess I'll play.
AG: Oh. YOu're gOne.
AG: Hm.
AG: What a shame.
>Think about this
Vriska is the only thing in the entirety of existence that confuses you. Like, wow. She just. She makes you feel confused, and it infuriates you. Like, wow. And despite all this fury you feel happy when she talks to you, which is oddly often. Like, holy jesus, she makes you want to both punch her and hug her.
Life is really confusing.
Last edited by penguinbound; 12-16-2011 at 08:10 PM.
@penguinbound: It's still good, but without the inter-connectivity of the earlier posts, lacks some narrative drive. But you've getting close to having everyone down so I suppose you're either going wrap up or do something with them, so it shouldn't be a problem for long.
A Hand in Holding Hands
Sample of Recap 3
I posted a sample of Recap 3 to the AO3 so that I could point them toward the aforementioned poll. Figured I might as well cross-post.
[Classical music. A narrator we have never heard reads a title card:]
Narrator: And now… "Juggalo Reviews, with Gamzee M. Makara"
Narrator: Today's episode… "A Hand in Holding Hands".
[GAMZEE appears in an empty room, his makeup slightly askew and apparently wearing Nepeta's not-The Cheat-sprayed ratty coat. After a brief, serene pause, he bursts into motion, mugging the camera. Gaps in dialogue represent jump cuts.]
Ideas like that are how Poker Night at the Inventory got conceived. That is to say, they are good ideas (that I will not understand because I can't get into Team Fortress but other people do so go for it).
The TF2 Characters hardly warrant the name Character; not to say they aren't interesting, though. They're just very two dimensional. The whole game is, it's part of the feel of the game.
I just want to see Scout/Tomo racing. Or Scout get his ass kicked by Sakaki at the same thing.
So... There's this anime I've been watching recently, Boku wa Tomodachi ga Sukunai, or "HAGANAI" For short. Anyways, I noticed a few episodes in that there are a LOT of characters in this show that remind me a LOT of different characters in Homestuck.
So...
I present to you that exact idea, with Karkat as the main character.
Unlike the show itself, I'm writing this as if Karkat's writing a blog for a school assignment. Since it's Karkat, I Think it's a fair warning to say that there's a fair bit of cursing in here.
Welp. Here I go! XD
HAGANAI-STUCK
AN INTRODUCTION.
"Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, and you are a RED BLOOD MUTANT with a slight REPUTATION PROBLEM."
Wait.
No.
That was a stupid introduction.
Try again.
"Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you have just been recruited into the STRANGEST CLUB you've ever heard of."
Yeah. That's better.
Hmmf. Despite the fact that I haven't actually JOINED any clubs, I guess it'll have to do.
As the introduction up there says, the name's Karkat.
What the fuck am I doing, You ask? Well, it's simple.
I'm doing some stupid creative writing asignment for school. I've been tasked to write and maintain a Blog for this school year in the second person narrative, detailing, among other things, my daily home life, school activities, and...
No. That introduction is still stupid.
Anyone can tell I'm trying to rip off Melancholy here.
Shit.
Ugh, give me a second here...
"Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, and you have NO FUCKING CLUE what to write for this stupid blog."
...
HAGANAI-STUCK
...
THE AVERAGE VANTAS MORNING.
Okay. Enough fooling around with this computer typing. Breakfast waits for no one, and I think I can use the voice-to-text feature on my phone for this blogging thing...
Hmmf. Get out of First and into Second!
Get out of first and into second.
You exit your room and... UGH. NO.
Forget it.
You are NOT DOING THIS SECOND PERSON BULL--
Wait.
Weren't you just doing it?
Why yes. Yes you were.
PERFECT!
Hahah! Yes! You can tell today's going to go well.
Super well.
Yes. You exit your room and head for the kitchen, getting ready to prepare breakfast for YOU AND YOUR SISTER.
Sister? What Sister?
Your younger sister, JADE VANTAS, who, much like you, is a FREAKY HALF-BLOOD MUTANT (Only in a more socially acceptable way).
You see, You... Wait. Fuck. That didn't work. Double 'You's? UGH.
Fine. Forget it.
Look. Here's the deal. My Dad's a Troll, mom was a human... Ish. I got her candy red blood which is COMPLETELY UNNATURAL for a Troll.
You see, I came out looking like a troll on the outside, and can pretty much pass as one in a crowd, except...
Except for my stupid, fucking hair.
Red on top black on bottom?
How the HELL does that even WORK?
You don't have a clue.
Oh Hey. Back to Second. Awesome.
You try to shove all these stupid thoughts out of your head and instead focus on making your breakfast and (most definitely 100%) your BENTO LUNCH BOX as well.
Guh. I'm going to post this now.
Demerit me later, Teachers, I've got food to cook.
....
OUT THE DOOR.
With Breakfast eaten, you're out of the house and on your way to the bus stop before Jade can finish brushing all the knots out of her hair.
Stupid Bus Stop. You hate this thing.
Your FATHER had to move to the continent on the other side of the world called AMERICA to work, leaving you and your sister to live in your HOUSE IN JAPAN for your SCHOOLING.
First day of the school year, your stupid ALARM CLOCK broke at some point during the night, causing you to be LATE FOR THE BUS.
You had to run to the NEXT STOP and catch ANOTHER BUS. This one however went ALL OVER THE FUCKING TOWN and caused you to be EVEN LATER AS IF THAT WAS EVEN POSSIBLE.
By the time you got to your ASSIGNED CLASSROOM, you were panting, sweaty, and your voice was hoarse from all the YELLING AT THE SKY that you were doing.
The Teacher nearly FAINTED on site and, to top it all off, LUCKY, LUCKY YOU had forgotten your pencil. You gained a reputation as a delinquent and a "YANKEE" who stole pencils from the cute girl in the seat next to you.
From that day onward, everyone AVOIDED YOU LIKE A PLAGUE.
You think your hair had something to do with it.
So, here you are, a year in, and you still don't have any friends.
Everyone calls you either "Transfer Student" or by your last name with a high degree of respect:
FEAR.
You Fucking Hate It.
...
A QUICK QUESTION?
Alright, I'm dropping this stupid Second Person narrative here because I'm getting sick of thinking like this. It's not how my brain's wired, alright?
Now. I'm sure that some of you who are reading this stupid blog here might not have a CLUE what I'm going to be rambling about for the next year, and I KNOW THIS because I've ALREADY gotten questions along the lines of "LOL Wuts a Trole?SlashSlashQuestion"
Preemptively of any more of these questions, I just have to say:
WHAT THE FUCK?
The Alternian Empire collapsed nearly a full century ago! How can you POSSIBLY even be LIVING on this planet without knowing basic Troll History?
Look, I'll tell you what, just go SBUBBLE "Alternian Empire Collapses" and don't read ANYTHING more on this site until you've read the Wikipedia article on it.
You done?
Good.
Now back to second person...
If I can get back into the flow of it.
Shit.
...
FRIENDSHIP ISN'T A DISEASE FUCKASS!
Alright so, there's this girl in my class.
(No, I'm not bothering with the second person tone School Review Board, You can't make me.)
Right. So, there's this girl.
Megido, Aradia, is her name. Long black hair, curly ram horns, rust red eyes.
Pure troll through and through.
Sometimes I see her just... Kinda staring off into space half the time. I wonder what she's thinking?
Probably some complicated math problem or something. Did I mention that she's a BLOODY GENIUS???
I think the only reason the teachers let her get by with her icy attitude is because of her high grades.
Why do I mention her out of all of my rather timid classmates?
Well, remember how I brought up Melancholy earlier on in the week?
!Five points to whoever sees this next line coming!
Well, after a rather profound classroom sun-set conversation about friends last night, today she dragged me to this lounge room in the Church's Club building and declared that we were making a club.
Welcome, my faithful followers, to the Neighbors Club.
...
That's all I've written up so far... WOW this is actually kinda fun to write. Karkat just doesn't flow in the normal MSPA style for this.
Anyways, I'm planning on writing more, but I'll probably just be transcribing the show out as a day's recap or something. It seems like the thing Karkat would do, right?
researcherWisemon - Y0U SP3/\K W1TH C/\PS /\ND NUMB3RS WH3N G/\M31NG and normally when not.
>DeviantArt
The session that never should have happened--the carapacian session.
Done some work on it, but it's by no means a solid concept.
PLAYERS
HEIR OF TIME
Writ Keeper
Land of Loam and Lotus
Prospit
Tree snake consorts?
ROGUE OF SPACE
Aimless Renegade
Land of (not sure) and Frogs
Derse
Frogs
KNIGHT OF (not sure)
Peregrin Mendicant
Land of Paths and Gardens?
Derse
Spider consorts
PAGE OF HOPE
Wayward Vagabond
Land of Streams and Moss
Prospit
Shade consorts (ghosty-looking things)
SEER OF HEART
Windswept Questant
Land of Gems and Ruin
Prospit
Desert fox consorts?
MAGE OF BLOOD
Jack Noir
Land of §òò/^$?
Derse
//;%@¡¡! consorts
BACKGROUND
Carapacians are not native to the Medium. They were the first players, the first universe to create the game, and as with any first, there were problems. Instead of only the players, nearly the entire population of their planet was pulled into the Medium; not players, but no game mechanic, Paradox Space classified them as non-player characters, and absorbed them into its function.
The players succeeded in creating their new universe, but chose to remain behind with their people; the new universe grew, invented the game, and when the Second Session began, the carapacians were waiting for them.
But Paradox Space had not left them as they were. Most had chosen to settle on one of the two moons, and those who settled on Prospit became paler, bleached by the energy of Skaia, while those who settled on Derse darkened under the influence of the creatures of the Outer Ring. This physical split led to political division as the carapacians forgot their origins, and soon Derse and Skaia were locked in war.
A series of glitches in the programming of the game--too many failures, broken sessions piled on broken sessions--led Paradox Space to drop copies of the disk on an already-dead world, a world inhabited only by those ejected from another session. Five copies of the game, for five Exiles.
But the game needs an even number of players, and a sixth copy found its way onto the Derse of that session, where a new-made demigod found himself unoccupied. The technology of that world was simple, but sufficient to run the disk.
A session within a session; a Derse inside Derse--such a thing could not exist, and so the demigod, stripped of his power in the new session, was ejected onto the planet of the game's origin, where the remnants of the carapacian race struggled to exist after the collapse of their society.
Anyone think it's a good idea? Suggestions? Help? Comments? Anything is awesome.
Several notes changed hands. Chiyo did a quick calculation and grimaced. Yomi wasn't going to be happy when she realized he had only given the equivilent of a hundred yen. She said nothing though, reluctant to get on the bad side of the large, frightening ebony man.
"Yer on, mate! Scout's a fast one, he is."
Said Scout and Sakaki were lined up at the starting line, with a even more hyper Tomo bouncing about, being... well, Tomo.
"Ready? Set! GO GO GO GO GO!"
Scout took off as fast as his feet could carry him, sending up clods of dirt. He had been the fastest in the country as a kid. When he bacame a mercenary, he had recorded himself as hitting a staggering 37 miles per hour for almost five minutes. He was tired afterward, sure, but it was incredible.
Or so he thought. Sakaki seemed to be keeping pace. The others on the sidline noticed her strain, but Scout only noted that she was fast. For a high school girl to beat him was unforgivable. He sped up.
"Look at him go!" gasped Tomo.
"Look at Sakaki! I've never seen her go this fast before!" Said Kaorin in shock.
"Look at Vriska, painting the track with glue." Said Rose, in a monotone.
"WHAT?!"
Vriska hummed happily to herself, paintbowl and brush in hand. The track was dusty, but spread enough of it widely and...
"But that's Cheatin'!" Said Osaka. Scout's shoe caught in the glue and he landed hard on his face. Sakaki, who had been falling slightly behind, stopped just in time to avoid the glue.
"I don't think she cares." Said Yomi.
"She doesn't much care about anything any more." Said Aradia dully, as Vriska daintily cut the finishing tape with a pair of scissors.
"I win!" She said happily.
"She won!" Said Kaorin, tears gathering in her eyes.
"She won." Stated Sakaki.
"She von?" Asked Heavy, scratching his head.
"She... won," Scout sobbed from his place in the sand.
Medic clapped. "Bravo!"
The Medic is a sadistic ex-nazi. Vriska is his best friend ever. ~spy
I'd go for Light I think. It doesn't fit the game's aspects, but Light is commonly associated with knowledge and civilization. She stands for the preservation of civilization by moving around little envelopes full of knowledge.
I'd go for Light I think. It doesn't fit the game's aspects, but Light is commonly associated with knowledge and civilization. She stands for the preservation of civilization by moving around little envelopes full of knowledge.
I'd been leaning towards Rage, Heart, or Breath. I don't really like Breath, but I hate the Rage god-tier symbol, and WQ already has Heart, so process of elimination...
So, I had this image in my mind for a while, but I figured Christmas Day was a good day to actually get it on "paper."
SBURBian Christmas
When most people think of elaborate Christmas decorations, they think of great trees and and myriad lights, hung from every arch and along every surface. They think of snowmen, of inflatable Santas and Ms. Claus's, of glowing reindeer.
Most people aren't God Tier.
Most houses have lights, little bulbs along the roofs, glowing incandescents that illuminate their various decorations from the inside. Particularly opulent houses may even appear to be lit up with daylight.
The Egbert-Lalonde-Strider-Harley complex (currently connected on the interior portals, so that they were essentially one house - saved them the trouble of deciding whose house they would use to celebrate) was, in fact, lit up with daylight.
TG: yeah, they're in a time loop
TG: endlessly falling on our shrubs
TG: i warned them about time loops, yo.
TG: i told them, man
Uh... yeah.
Where does the energy come from?
TG: shit, don't ask that
TG: especially not around lalonde
TG: she might actually answer you
TG: and then i'd have to walk you to the asylum
TG: spouting eldritch tongues and all grimdark-skinned
Right. Don't ask Lalonde about physics-breaking loops.
Most houses had a tree to put presents beneath. Particularly opulent houses may have multiple trees, or a tree tall enough to go through a designated hole in the roof.
In the Complex, instead of a tree, they had John slowly feeding wind into the twister slowly growing next to the (Lalonde's) fireplace. Normally the twister would quickly fall apart into gale-force winds without John's power to stabilize it, but in this case, chance turbulence (manipulated by further gusts of wind and the Seer of Light's insights into chaos and probability) aligned just so to keep the twister stable.
TT: It should not even need to be mentioned that the twister is feeling reversed gravity.
TT: And is currently floating a few feet above the ground.
TT: Both grounds.
TT: The green tinsel whipping around inside it shouldn't come as a surprise either.
When most people put stars on the top of their Christmas tree, they used a plastic star. Particularly opulent households might use a metallic star, or even one made of gold. Particularly devout households may draw attention to its symbolism of the Star of Bethlehem.
The Complex used a literal star.
GG: i was going to use the original star
GG: but, well, it's a nova!
GG: so it'd be a red giant when i could actually pick it up
GG: and i dunno, i thought it was kind of morbid
GG: having a blood-red star on top of the tree...
GG: i could have taken it from before it was a red giant
GG: but then it wouldn't really be the star of bethlehem anyway
GG: so i just used arcturus instead!
GG: which is a nice orangey-gold.
Needless to say, the gifts this year are heavy. And wrapped in asbestos.
... Actually, there's an awful lot of gifts for four people. I wonder why that -
GG: alright!
GG: Rose, do you have the portal?
TT: Here.
TT: It's a shame we didn't have this when we left.
EB: well, it needs someone on the other end to work right anyway
TT: True.
TT: In any case.
TT: Jade?
GG: On it!
The portal - which looks suspiciously like a cross between a hula hoop and a stargate - flies through Jade's portal-body and vanishes. Its other end lights up, ten chevrons immediately locking.
EB: that's the meteor!
EB: next the Green Sun
TG: ready
GG: ready!
EB: (this feel so strange throwing heavy objects at you, jade!!!!!!!!)
EB: hup![/COLOR]
TT: You'll need my help for the next one, Jade.
GG: ready!!!
GG: hee!
TT: Dreambubble-portal in three
TT: two
TT: one
EB: hup!
GG: and the lily-pad
EB: fiiiiiiiinal
EB: hup!
And then they start pouring in. The trolls - some dead (some more clearly so than others), others alive, fairy-shaped god tiers and mortals alike. One carapace, bearing wings and the ears of a certain omnipotent dog. And one firefly.
Anyone here one piece fans? No? Well, too bad.
The Journal of one Future Pirate Queen, Chapter One
Vrischaka “Spinnerette” Serquet’s Journal Entry number 413, June Twelfth-
Dear DIIIIIIIIE-ary (sorry, I couldn’t resist),
Today we touched down at the legendary Saboady Archipelago. It’s nothing near as exciting as some of the places we’ve docked 8efore, and the tourism knows how to flaunt its cutesiness. 8ut if you look in the right places, you may just find some sweeeeeeeet criminal activity. For starters, and I don’t know how many times I’ve mentioned this, 8ut there you go, all of the THIRTEEN SUPERNOVAS (all caps, 8itches) have 8een rumored to congreg8 here at roughly the same time. And just who is one of the highest 8ountied in that sacred group? Why, yours truly and her captain, dummyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!
Yeah, I’m super looking forward to meeting Mr. Monkey D. Didn’t I say, ever since he shoved Croc Scratch through several storied of 8edrock, that I knew he was destined to 8e something of a worthy foe? Yes, yes I did. I just hope he doesn’t find out a8out Kanya’s parenthood. Wouldn’t want our medic drawing all the attention her way, now would we? Eustass Kid looks cool as well, I hope I’ll have the time to spat with him.
Captain Cra88ypantaloons is insisting on a low profile, 8ut if he was a sensa8le mem8er of the supernovas, he would want to flaunt it. Such a party pooper. If he cannot appreciate his status, he should maaaaaaaaay8e have never considered stepping into the pir8 shoes. Not everyone can fit, guys!!!!!!!!
June Thirteenth-
Well, Karkata and I went out to get some high-quality resin for the which to coat The Veil, and I just happened to lose him. Silly me! Oh, 8ut the sights, the sounds. One could hardly 8lame me. I managed to start, like, six 8ar 8rawls 8y sparking some aggression with the old haki. It’s really starting to show itself. Too 8ad I couldn’t make the 8rawls an even eight, but, you know, higher calling. Specifically, Trafalgar Law. That’s right. I kicked his ass. Well, not at first, 8ut, well- Yeah, you know what, this is my journal, I don’t have to write down my 8rutal defeat in round one.
Oh, shit.
I wish I had thought to 8uy a pencil.
June Fourteenth-
Well, the Straw Hats are here (yesssssssss) and they have a new crewmem8er, as far as I can tell. They’re also escorting this snooty-ass hipster Seahorse-Fishman, and his genki girl Cuttlefish-Mermaid Girlfriend. Kanya ran into them whilst shopping for medical what-have-you. While I am gr8ful for the scoop, I do wish that she had asked a8out the new guy on their roster. Kanya said it was some kind of Musiscian. I’d like to see Gamzy finally get himself a worthy opponent. Just why the hell did Karkata let that stoned num8skull join this ship if he doesn’t show one millogram of offensive might????????
8ut I digress. Tonight I shall sneak into the night and challenge Monkey D. Luffy to a duel. Wish me luck, faithful readers! And that included you, Tavros. Yes, I know you sneak in here when I’m not around. There’s nothing to 8e ashamed of, a8sor8ing your navig8or’s gr8ness. >::::)
June Fifteenth-
Such drive! Such determin8ion! I have never, in all my months of navig8ing for this callous crew, seen such a formidible fight as the straw hats. It was well worth the screetching lecture from Karkata. I’ll 8e a8le to take ‘em if they come for revenge anyway. Just wish you hadn’t told him of my midnight raid on the Thousand Sunny, Taaaaaaav. Yes, drop this 8ook in shock. You are soooooooo predictable. Anyway, I’m keeping the details of the fight to myself. I’ll just say I managed to get a few slashes at the ru88erman, and that my luck cooper8ed for most of the action.
So, another important thing happened. Problem Sleuth’s ship pulled into the archipelago!!!!!!!! It looks like the marines of that crew are following Jack Noir into the new world. May8e Captain Sleuth will give John that much needed promotion if he survives a second in the pir8 graveyard. Anyway, our Captain says it’s the last straw (heh), and we’re moving onto Fishman Island tomorrow. It would 8e gr8, if Kanya wasn’t insistent that we stay. Apparently she’s struck up some sort of friendship with that Fishman and Mermaid I mentioned earlier, and the two are being held in the human auction. For once I agree with Karkat- what the nobles do with the Seadwellers isn’t our concern. Our medic needs to stop with the whole 8leeding heart shit.
June Sixteenth-
Okay, Get this: Admiral Kizaru’s here! Karkata’s mind is made up, 8ut Kanya and Gamzy (Gamz, of all people), are staying behind to 8ust the seadwellers out. Captain seems resigned to the course of events, 8ut I’ve seen him kicking more than a few walls. They’ll meet up with us on the fishman’s ship, in the 8u88le itself. It’s gonna be dangerous, so I wish them all the luck. All of it!!!!!!!!
(I've changed around some names, just because everyone here is human, and they aren't bound by the six-letter rule)
Last edited by Grand Mal; 05-14-2012 at 03:39 PM.
Originally Posted by Almighty Janitor
That's the thing with fanfiction.net reviews, every fic tends to get blind praise even if it's no good. It's like the antithesis of YouTube or something.
Originally Posted by MrCheeze
and everyone knows the platonic ideal of misaimed-fan-ness only cares about trolls
I had an idea for a Homestuck/Star Wars crossover, but I only know about the Galactic Civil War Era in enough detail to do that and it would just end up summarized in three commands-
==> Jade: Shrink the Death Star to the size of a marble.
==> John: Hammer that fucking bitch into oblivion.
==> Rebels: Celebrate victory with minimal losses.
...Does anyone wanna make some kind of crappy art for this just for laughs? I can't navigate an art program to save my life.
Which sucks even more because I have a tablet.
Last edited by NeoDarklight; 12-29-2011 at 11:22 PM.
Reason: Tpyo
I decided to make a Bastion/Homestuck crossover fic. The only problem with it is that it's Christmas themed, and Christmas is over. Bluh.
Here's the first part. It's on my Tumblr, but if you just want to read it:
The Kid was laying out the table, upon which there was a nice, white tablecloth with a good assortment of foods on it. A nice Elephant Pecker roast with stuffing made from vineapples, breadcrums, and Squirt Extract the Kid from the remains of Windbag Ranch. A few pies, two vineapple, another a meat pie made from fried Anklegator meat from Queen Anne and filled with Lunkhead gravy, and yet another filled with some kind of strange ooze the Kid hadn't gotten around to trying yet. And, of course, the line of spirits from Rucks's private reserve, carefully laid out in a line down the table. All in all, a fabulous feast for the strange guests that had come aboard the Bastion. There wasn't any way of explaining how they got on. The Kid just looked up in the sky, and down they fell. A few humans, like the kid, and a whole bunch of others, people he'd never seen before, and may never see again. Grey skinned, with orange horns growing outta their heads. They didn't take too kindly to the sunlight out here, but they said it was worse where they lived. Or used to live. Looks like apocalypses bring people together.
“Hey, white haired guy.” The Kid turned around and saw one of them right now. Standing their, in his weird white shirt with the cracked up record on it. Those were some really nice shades he had on. “We getting this whole Christmas thing going, or what?”
The Kid nodded, and sent out his Squirt to get the rest of the guests. This whole “Christmas” thing the new people were talking about was weird. Caelondia didn't have celebrations like this in the cold. They just sat in their houses, warmed up the stoves, and talked with family. Then again, no one on the Bastion had any family to talk to, except each other. These guests were a welcome sight. And speaking of the guests, there they were coming.
The humans among them had normal enough names. John, Rose, Dave and Jade were all uncommon, but not too strange. The other twelve, however, had strange ones: Aradia, Tavros, Karkat, Sollux, Nepeta, Kanaya, Terezi, Vriska, Equius, Gamzee, Eridan, Feferi... all of them were a bit hard to pronounce, and none of them were anywhere near common. Something stranger still, they cried and bled in different colors, they saw hate as a positive emotion, and they all had orange horns. Well, if they were guests who had lost their own homes, they couldn't be too bad.
Speaking of the guests, all of them began to gather around the table the Kid had lain. One of them, a boy in a strange blue garment, spoke up.
“So, is anyone going to be saying grace or something?”
One of the stranger guests piped up, one with stubs of horns and a grey symbol on his shirt..
“Egbert, what in the flying fuck does that even mean?”
Another rose, a rather STRONG fella. “Please, leader, this lewd language is rather unbecoming of one in charge.”
“Equius, if I wanted your input, I would have turned to your ugly, sweaty face and said 'say something completely fucking inane', but since I did not say that to you, shut the fuck up.”
“... Yes, Karkat. May I request something?”
“If it's a towel, no. Get one yourself, you sweaty, horse-loving asshole.”
The kid in blue, John, tried to continue. “Well, do any of you have a central god figure in your religion or whatever? Or a Jesus figure? Basically, it's a prayer, of sorts, something about blessing the meal or something.”
Another of the stranger guests, wearing a pair of spotted indigo pants and painted in some kind of odd makeup, stood.
“Well, if you're asking for blessings and shit, then I am motherfucking all good for that, bro.”
The grey-shirted one frowned, more fervently than he had already always been frowning.
“Egbert, are you really going to put us through this? Wouldn't it be more humane just to kill us outright?”
“Karkat, don't be mean. I'm sure he'll do fine.”
“Listen to the Egbert human, leader. It is not polite to obstruct a highblood's whims.”
Karkat dropped his face in his hands. “You assholes asked for this.”
“Why so angry, Karkles? I don't like smelling you this way.”
That was the thing about this other guest, the blind girl with bright red glasses. She always smelled or tasted, never saw.
“Look, Terezi, I-
“I can't look! I'm blind, remember?”
“Alright then, LISTEN, Terezi. Whatever comes out of Gamzee's lopsided juggalo maw may very well be a worse fate than death. Do you fucking want that? Do you crave your doom or something?”
“KK, shut the fuck up.”
“No, Sollux, I will not shut the fuck up. This is a life or death situation here.”
Here's my HS fanfiction.Its an AU of Runawaystuck. I hope its ok....
Mythostuck.
Prologue
The hybrids as some call them, are the basis of almost all myths and legends. Many early ‘gods’ were hybrids who had advanced technology. Hybrids were in fact the culture before the human’s own. This culture was based almost entirely on magic and classes were taught everywhere to anyone and everyone (including humans) as long as you could pass the entrance exams.
Our story of the fall of this great culture, begins with one teacher flying as quickly as he could to the class he was supposed to teaching several minutes ago….
Originally Posted by KarneWarrior
I have an Idea I'm a little too busy to write.
Azumanga/TeamFortress2/Homestuck High School AU.
Pose as a team because Shit just got complicated.
Can I do this? Without the TF2 part? And with Gamzee as Osaka, Vriska as Miss Yukari, and Terezi as Miss Kurosawa?
I don't even know how I'll write this but please?
Quotes:
Originally Posted by kdanger
So their Queens and Kings (and potentially Jack Noir) get attributes of... an inflatable shark, a house cat, a fish-shaped food item, a penguin, and a terribly drawn Mary Sue. wooo
Originally Posted by Gigabacon
It will finish on the 21/12/2012. As the meteors begin to fall, the last page will have a download link to two files, and the words "you know what to do."
Originally Posted by Zarggg
ACHIVEMENT UNLOCKED : Normal, human speech.
Originally Posted by mysteriousOutsider
Reverse engineering an oily hat to save an alien species from extinction.
Homestuck.
Originally Posted by Oblivion
Not sure if this will actually mean anything in the long run. I personally think it would be pretty funny and extremely fitting if English's sudden vulnerability was only noticed and then exploited by a single entity - not any kids or heroes, but one lone exile. Get'im, Spades.
16/15 GREEN TORSOS KILLED
I think John is kinda like Captain Carrot from Discuworldo. He believes that there is good in everyone so strongly, they all wanna prove him right.
And they feel so bad for disappointing him, they strive not to do it.
Originally Posted by oogley
I just looked up cuttlefish. Turns out they sometimes eat each other. And have green-blue blood. And have three hearts. And see about eight times better than most creatures. And their eyes are Ws
FEFERI IS KANAYA (because vampire) IS TEREZI (because teal blood) IS SOLLUX (because three lives) IS VRISKA (because vision 8fold) IS ERIDAN (because W) IS NEPETA (because tranistive property of Nepeta) IS LORD ENGLISH (because shut up).
The Glasswright estate was far more imposing than Gwen's own mansion, although not necessarily in terms of size or splendor, but rather in its situation. It rose from the top of a steep hill, its solitude creating the illusion of magnitude. Additionally, it was secluded from the nearby township by a sizable forest, through which Gwen and her mother now passed in a taxi from the airport.
When they arrived, their suitcases were collected by a servant, and they themselves were greeted by their hosts, Drs. Eli and Josephine Glasswright. They partook in the custom of fawning over how much Gwen had grown, how pretty she was, etc. for a few minutes, then they appeared to forget that she existed, as the conversation took a more “adult” turn into the land of politics and world news.
The sitting room had a roaring fire, in a luxurious fireplace. The mantle had an extensive collection of faded sepia photographs and academic awards, but rather than add flavor to the room, Gwen felt like they hampered the flow of energy. She was well-versed in the art of feng shui. The adults and their proper etiquette were making Gwen feel a little stifled, especially since “etiquette” was code for “ignore the child.” She excused herself, and retreated to the guest house to unwind a bit.
The Glasswrights had installed a guest house a few years back, after deciding that the enormous expanse of land at the rear foot of the hill was too empty for their tastes. Gwen stumbled down the hill, then walked a few yards to the house, which was about as large as a fairly expensive garage, and was white with white trim. The bedroom inside was decorated shockingly white, almost absurdly so. The wall opposite the door had a mural of a white sand beach, which Gwen found ironic, considering Wyoming's situation in the middle of a giant landmass.
Still a little jet-lagged from her 19 hour flight across the international date line, Gwen collapsed into her enormous bed, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
She was startled awake by an annoyingly loud chirp. It took her a while to realize that it was her phone, which she had, following her friend's advice, equipped with PesterchumMobile. She reached over, still a little groggy from her nap, and picked it up to answer it.
-esotericEngineer [EE] began pestering genteelAromatherapist [GA] at ??: ??-
Pesterchum service message: Date and time are being adjusted
Local date and time are set as: December 20th, 2011; 06:28
EE: Gwen
EE: Where have you been
GA: until recently, i've been asleep.
EE: Well stop it
EE: Stop mocking me by sleeping when you know I can't
GA: oh, is that a problem again?
EE: It never stopped being a problem
EE: I mean obviously I go to sleep eventually
EE: I would probably die otherwise
GA: ok, so what's up?
EE: Do you not register the fact that I am clearly talking to you right now
EE: Instead of doing other activities
EE: Activities which one might be assumed to be doing at 3:30 in the morning
GA: is that the time?
EE: It is for me
GA: having trouble sleeping?
EE: Clearly
GA: ok, here's what i suggest.
GA: try keeping a diary.
GA: whenever you feel overwhelmed with your life, just write it all down.
GA: if you can't keep your thought process while you write, it means you aren't preoccupied with whatever you were writing about, so you should try writing about something else.
EE: The problem isn't that I'm preoccupied, it's that I'm thoroughly unoccupied
GA: well, if none of that works, try getting some relaxing scented candles.
EE: Oh for the love of
EE: Candles
EE: That's your go to solution for everything Gwen
EE: You know some of us try to solve problems without getting high
GA: ok, first, it's not getting high, it's just a relaxing smell.
GA: second, maybe if you tried new things, you would solve problems better.
GA: you have to open your mind, kara.
GA: let your friends help you grow.
EE: Hmm
GA: hmm?
EE: Yes hmm as in hmm how very interesting
GA: so you'll do it? you'll adopt alternative strategies?
EE: Well not in general
EE: But you did just give me a great idea for a new project
GA: oy...
EE: I need to get to work on this right away
EE: Thanks a lot Gwen
GA: glad i could... help?
-esotericEngineer [EE] ceased pestering genteelAromatherapist [GA] at 06:31-
Gwen had no idea what her friend was talking about. She really could be quite mysterious sometimes.
Since it was 6:30 in the morning, everyone else was still asleep, but Gwen was now fully awake and couldn't imagine being able to get back to sleep. She often woke up early anyway in the summer. (Even though it was now winter, since she was in the US, it was still summer for her.) She decided to go for a walk through the forest of Wyoming fir trees. The air was frigid and it was still mostly dark out when she began walking toward the forest, but Gwen saw it as an opportunity to watch the sun rise.
And rise it did. Gwen gasped as the snow-covered field she was walking through suddenly began to gleam with the violet rays of the sun, unobstructed by the pollution of the city. That was when she realized; it had snowed last night. This was her first real look at snow, and it was quite a resplendent view at that. It was almost too bright for her; she had to shield her eyes from the ground, as weird as that seemed to her.
When she finally arrived at the forest, she was grateful for the shelter from the blinding sun, but she did turn to get another look at the brilliantly lit snow. It made her a little less irritated that she was dragged out here, although not to the point of gratitude.
Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. “Of course,” she thought.
-ostentatiousAuthor [OA] began pestering genteelAromatherapist [GA] at 06:48-
OA: Hey Gwen.
OA: How's America?
GA: wow, what a coincidence that you contacted me right now.
OA: Really? What's up?
GA: i just had a dream about you.
GA: i think...
OA: Really?
OA: You saw me in your dream?
OA: I didn't see you in mine, so what's up?
GA: huh? why would you see me just because i saw you?
GA: dreams aren't the same for everyone you know.
GA: we don't have a shared dream setting.
OA: Gwen, I'm going to ask you something that may seem weird.
GA: when don't the things you ask sound weird?
OA: True enough.
OA: Gwen, do you remember your dreams?
GA: uh...
OA: Like, when you wake up each day, do you usually feel like you had a dream?
GA: hmm... now that you mention it...
GA: i don't usually.
GA: i don't even really remember this one.
GA: just that you were in it.
OA: Hmm...
OA: Do you remember what I did or said?
GA: you were just outside my window.
GA: but it wasn't my normal window from my house.
GA: i don't remember where i was.
GA: oh yeah, and you were wearing a kind of funny costume.
OA: Was it golden pajamas?
GA: no...
GA: you wear golden pajamas? :P
GA: no, it was sort of a tan shirt with a big hood and a weird design on the chest.
GA: i don't remember anything else.
OA: Ok...
OA: Well, I'm completely stumped...
OA: Oh man, I need to go or I'll be late!
OA: See you Gwen.
GA: bye will.
OA: Try to remember your dreams!
-ostentatiousAuthor [OA] ceased pestering genteelAromatherapist [GA] at 06:59-
And with that puzzle not at all squared away, Gwen decided to explore a little bit further into the forest. She decided that it was a very pretty forest, especially with the trees draped in snow, like wooden brides wearing frosted veils. She wandered through it for a while, before deciding that she was far enough away from civilization for her purposes.
She found a fallen tree, brushed off the snow, and sat down, getting herself quite wet in the process. She took out a couple of scent sticks and some matches, and stuck the sticks in the ground around her so that they were held up by the snow. She lit one called Clarity, and inhaled the smell, which was a light mixture of mint and roses. Gwen sat for a while, breathing and clearing her mind. Then she took out her diary and tried to write, although she didn't gain much ground.
After she gave up writing, Clarity finished burning, so she lit the other scent, Entice. This one, filled with raspberries and chocolate, was making her hungry, and she realized that she should have brought some snacks. She made a mental note to stock up on food when she got back.
A low growl reverberated through the deserted woods, shattering her relaxation. Gwen froze and listened carefully, but the sound had been brief. Breathing a sigh of relief, Gwen decided it was time to leave. She bent over to pick up her sticks. Suddenly, a gray wolf came traipsing through the thicket as calmly as if Gwen wasn't there. It looked straight into her eyes, which at this point were brimming with fear, and then continued walking closer. When it got to the Entice stick, it sniffed at it curiously, then lay down in the snow and just stared at Gwen, as if daring her to make a move.
Slowly, Gwen reached out her shaking hand until it reached the top of the wolf's head. Sensing that it would not object, she gave it a few pets then retreated. Apparently satisfied, the wolf got up and left the clearing.
Gwen finished gathering her things, and went back to her guest house, where she fell asleep again.
* * *
When she woke up again, it was only because her mother was calling her for dinner, otherwise she would have just kept sleeping all day. Remembering Will's advice, she took a few seconds to try to remember her dream, but, as far as she could tell, she didn't even have a dream. She ran off to dinner, eager to tell everyone about the miraculous wolf in the woods.
“What do you mean a tame wolf?” her mother inquired. “You saw a dog in the forest?”
“No Mother, an actual wolf,” Gwen said exasperatedly. “I know the difference between dogs and wolves.”
Gwen wasn't exactly new to this kind of treatment; she grew up with her mother's ridiculing friends and associates. The cocktail parties and black tie dinners that she was supposed to stay away from and the way that all adults seemed to ignore her opinions showed her that she was looked upon as nothing more than a glass figurine; pretty to admire for a few minutes, but having no real value. Adults couldn't see what she could see, but they assumed her view was wrong.
“Gwen, if you saw a wolf, and it saw you,” Eli pointed out, “I don't think we'd be talking about it with you right now.”
“Are you sure you didn't just see a big dog and mistake it for a wolf?” asked Josephine.
“I know what I saw!” said Gwen “It was a big-toothed, wide-headed, long-legged canis lupus! It was definitely a wolf, and it was completely awesome!”
The adults all looked at her incredulously, clearly choosing not to believe, or even register that she did indeed have extensive knowledge of animals. Gwen looked at each of them in turn, pleading with her eyes for some approval, any sign that they believed her, but all she got was a vague mixture of condescension and sympathy.
“Ugh!” she screamed, then stormed out of the room, disgusted. She found her room, and flopped down on the bed, but she wasn't tired at all after sleeping all day, so she took out her laptop and logged on.
She checked on a couple of blogs that she followed, read the latest chapter of her favorite online science fiction romantic mystery saga, “The Powell Estate,” and then did a little research. After learning all she cared to about various South American horticultural techniques, she closed her computer and went back to the main house. She sneaked past the dining room, where the adults were still eating, and headed to the kitchen.
The kitchen was deserted, as would be expected, since the meal was almost over. Everything in the room was black and shiny, from the fridge to the counters. Even the floor was tiled with black slate. This was augmented by the dim lighting, since only a few spotlight beams were on. She searched through the refrigerator until she found what she was looking for: a lump of red meat. It was sickeningly moist, so she captchalogued it quickly, causing it to land in a leaf card next to her Spirit Chest. She turned over her modus card and selected leaf to be accessible rather than the root card.
She closed the fridge and began to head back to her room, when something caught her eye. There, on the floor near the counter, was a green card. She picked it up, and saw that it was a Strife Specibus Card.
A strife specibus is a way of storing and quickly accessing a set kind of item for use in a combat situation. While a sylladex is often an exciting and engaging method of storage, it is hardly practical. In a competitive or even dangerous situation, it is more efficient to have access to whatever tool you need without the hassle of a sylladex, and that's where a strife specibus becomes useful. Each strife card can be allocated one Kind Abstratus, which is basically a category of weapon. From then on, any object that falls into that category can be assigned to the strife specibus instead of the sylladex. Any number of items can be assigned and are later accessible at any time, hassle-free.
It wasn't a blank card though; it had already been allocated with Knifekind. Apparently one of the cooks decided it would be easier to just have a specibus to hold all their knives, as opposed to carrying them in a sylladex. “Oh well,” thought Gwen. “It's mine now,” and took it. The card had two knives in it already: Chef's Knife and Paring Knife. Gwen felt bad about taking the card and the knives, so she ejected the Chef's Knife from her specibus. She knew what a mistake that was the instant after she made it. It came hurtling out of nowhere, forcing her to duck to avoid being skewered. It made a loud “thunk!” as it hit the refrigerator, lodging itself firmly in the door.
Gwen felt it would be prudent to abscond from the kitchen, and possibly the house, as quickly as possible, before the grownups came to investigate the ruckus. She ran out, no longer caring about stealth, and she was sure the adults didn't recognize who it was that dashed past the dining room.
She stopped at her room and picked up her guitar, then began the trek to the forest. It was much colder at night, so she was glad she brought her ear muffs and gloves. Her cobalt and gray jacket was especially useful, and it did its job well without being too bulky for comfort.
The snowfield was completely different at night; the moon's light was less harsh than the sun's and reflected off the snow to make it look like the ground was covered in vanilla frosting. The slight bumps in the ground were like sweeping waves of an alabaster sea. Still, all in all, she preferred the brilliance of the sunlight to the warmth of the moonlight.
The forest seemed even calmer at night than it did during the day, although Gwen knew enough about animal behavior to know that she was in more danger at night. There were plenty of animals active even at night that she wanted to avoid. And one that she didn't want to.
She lit an Entice stick, set it in the snow, and waited. To pass the time, she took out her guitar and played herself a hauntingly relaxing melody that she had adapted from a bass line she had once heard. Its sound carried through the air and mixed with the scent, creating a sensory bouquet for the one she knew would come.
Suddenly, the gray wolf came out from the copse of trees, almost marching towards her and the scent.
“Here boy.” she called, as she tossed him the hunk of meat, which he caught and began chewing. His razor sharp teeth tore into the flesh, and Gwen had to look away for a second until he got a good grip on it and lay down in the snow, holding it with his paws and ripping off a piece at a time. Gwen looked into his eyes and knew there was a spark of intelligence in this wild beast. In that look, Gwen saw something very familiar, something from somewhere, but she couldn't remember where. She suddenly started feeling really tired, so she said goodbye to the wolf and returned home.
* * *
She returned to that wolf every day for the next three days.
On the 21st, she brought a printed-out chapter of “The Powell Estate” and read it to the wolf. It started snowing halfway through, and she and the wolf shared some tea she had brought with her. Kara hadn't been online since their conversation the previous day.
On the 22nd, she brought her guitar and had a lengthy jam session while the wolf listened. She even wrote a new song, inspired by the winter weather and her new friend. Luke asked her if she had the game yet, and she asked Will, and they both answered no.
On the 23rd, she tried in vain to convince her mother to come see the wolf to prove she wasn't lying, but Mother didn't want to go out in the freezing cold. Instead, Gwen brought a camera and took a picture of the wolf. She tried contacting Kara again, but she still wasn't online.
The morning of the 24th, she woke up ready for a nice walk with the wolf through their shared forest. As she started walking, she realized she never gave the wolf a name. “It would be pretty silly of me to introduce my new friend to my old friends without a name,” she thought. “Or maybe I should ask them what they think his name should be.”
No sooner had the words come into her head than her phone alerted her that she was getting pestered again. She opened Pesterchum to see the golden text of Will.
-ostentatiousAuthor [OA] began pestering genteelAromatherapist [GA] at 10:37-
OA: Hey Gwen.
OA: Just reminding you that you should make sure your phone is charged.
OA: Pesterchum tends to drain the battery faster.
GA: hey will, guess what.
OA: What?
GA: i met a new friend out here
OA: Cool. What's his name?
GA: i didn't say he was a boy...
GA: also that's exactly what i wanted to ask you.
OA: How would I know his name?
OA: Or does he not even have a name?
GA: he's a wolf.
OA: Oh, cool.
OA: In that case, why don't you name him Silverback?
GA: how did you know his fur color?
OA: It just sounded like a wolfish name.
OA: Plus, it would be poetic, since your name is Grayson.
GA: ah, ok then.
Just then, Gwen heard a loud growl, followed by a series of snarls, coming from the forest, which she had almost reached.
GA: oh man, sounds like trouble!
GA: bye
OA: Phone, Gwen! Bye.
-genteelAromatherapist [GA] ceased pestering ostentatiousAuthor [OA] at 10:39-
Gwen hastily stuffed her phone back in her pocket and dashed for the source of the commotion. She burst out of the trees into clearing to the sight of Silverback locked in battle with another wolf.
“ 'Although they often travel and hunt in packs, wolves can sometimes be loners. Full grown wolves may have difficulty being accepted into a pack, and will usually be killed,' ” Gwen recalled from an article she had read about wolves.
She kept her distance from the two beasts as they fought viciously. They were making sounds that terrified her, but she didn't dare leave. She couldn't tell who was winning, but she hoped it was her wolf. Finally, when the fight reached its crescendo, she couldn't watch any more, turned and ran from the forest. The last thing she heard as she fled from the woods was a single sorrowful howl.