From 69c0314adcccf6373252757454b39e2a9b9c6ddd Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: "(quasar) nebula" Date: Tue, 8 Oct 2024 21:00:08 -0300 Subject: fix up images --- chapter1.html | 48 ++++++++++++------------- chapter10.html | 30 ++++++++-------- chapter11.html | 26 +++++++------- chapter12.html | 24 ++++++------- chapter13.html | 54 ++++++++++++++--------------- chapter14.html | 108 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++----------------------------- chapter2.html | 84 ++++++++++++++++++++++---------------------- chapter3.html | 54 ++++++++++++++--------------- chapter4.html | 66 +++++++++++++++++------------------ chapter5.html | 4 +-- chapter6.html | 52 +++++++++++++-------------- chapter7.html | 46 ++++++++++++------------ chapter8.html | 82 +++++++++++++++++++++---------------------- chapter9.html | 42 +++++++++++----------- intro.html | 72 +++++++++++++++++++------------------- 15 files changed, 396 insertions(+), 396 deletions(-) diff --git a/chapter1.html b/chapter1.html index a2bd2fe..21a59e1 100644 --- a/chapter1.html +++ b/chapter1.html @@ -14,30 +14,30 @@

CHAPTER 1. Ghostflusters

- +

The void resounds. Space seizes and warps as the bounds of relevance erode away to nothing but the wishful nostalgia of times passed. There is a hole in the middle of the universe, and it is hungry.

But the denizens of this particular iteration of Earth C don’t know it. All of this is just business as fucking usual for a planet plagued by war, continuous inclement ghost weather, and the general malaise of being absolutely severed from canon. They spend their days absorbed in the petty and pointless pursuits of “having jobs” and “raising families” and “falling in love”.

In the midst of this, a middle-aged man kneels in a garden. It isn’t his garden, and he already has a name, but we will begin our story with him regardless.

Plants, Jake has decided, are really the best sort of chums. They are quiet, friendly, and easy to please. All they need is a little water and fresh earth, and they are perfectly happy to lie there all day in the sun. And they don’t make increasingly inhumane arms deals and appear on talk shows expounding on the dangers of interspecies marriage. They have never, as far as Jake knows, fucked a clown.

- +

John has been an incredible pal, opening up his home to Jake and his son on such short notice, and even offering him a pair of pants, as well as a shirt that he has so far neglected to put on. John’s house doesn’t have air conditioning. It’s a charming little cottage, but it could sure as aces use some airing out. And dusting. And just general upkeep. The old place really has gone to seed since John’s been away. Jake shudders to think what sort of state his own mansion is in. Jane will probably have it demolished now, he imagines. It, like the rest of his assets, is in her name. She’d seen to that as soon as they were married.

Back at chez Crocker, there had been a legion of hired help to take care of the ins-and-outs of running a household. Jane’s far too busy to bother with such things, and Jake... well, he just never bothered. Why should he, when there were other people to take care of it for him? But the decades of easy living don’t change the fact that he spent the first 16 years of his life in the deep, lush bush of the south pacific jungle. There certainly had been no one to cook and clean and bring down the big game then! Besides his grandma, but she had him shooting as soon as he could hold a pistol.

No pistols are shot today, but Jake is determined to have the place in tip-top shape by the time John gets back from...wherever he is. He hasn’t seen much of Tavros today either, but that’s not unusual. He’s probably out with his kismesis, the one he thinks Jake doesn’t know about. He washes the floors and windows, cleans a toilet or three, and chases a family of squirrels out from the inside of the attic wall. They chitter angrily at him but he doesn’t back down.

- +

As the day wears on and the shadows grow longer, Jake washes the dirt out from under his fingernails, and his eyes fall on the bottle still sitting on the counter. John had opened it, but together they’d barely touched the stuff. Jake had promised him and Tavvy he’d dry up his act and all, but... well.

- +

One thing at a time.

- - + +

The jungle air is heavy, humid, and familiar. Twenty years on and the thick drag into his lungs settles on him in a blanket of nostalgia, reassuring in its discomfort. A pistol is strapped to his leg, and all around him the shadows move in slow, threatening sweeps. He is deeper in the jungle than he’d ever venture in his waking hours. There were places on his island that not even his Gran would tred, and she’d been the bravest person he’d ever known.

Here there be monsters.

Jake doesn’t recognize anything. The jungle of his dreams is wild and unknown, and there are things moving in the dense undergrowth. He slaps at a mosquito on his neck. Sweat drips into his eyes. He drops a hand to his gun, the tension prickling hot and tight at the base of his neck.

A sudden wind thrashes the canopy. There are pine needles in his mouth. There aren’t any pine needles in the jungle.

The only warning Jake gets is a resonate growl that seems to come from every direction at once, before the monster is on him. A lithe creature of darkness and fury, with more legs than anything mammalian has a right to. He hits the ground hard enough to drive the breath out of him, but he doesn’t have time to catch it. He has to run. He knows, in the deep, prophetic way of dreams, that he is no match for this monster.

It is right behind him, its hot, damp breath wuffling at his hair. What does it feel like to be eaten? He’s about to find out.

- - - + + +

JAKE: I...

JAKE: Who…

@@ -77,18 +77,18 @@

DIRK: Don’t worry about it right now, it’s not important. I’m here, and that’s what matters.

JAKE: I suppose ill just have to trust you!

- +

DIRK: Yeah.

DIRK: Good luck with that.

- +

Consciousness hits Jake like a bottle to the back of the head. In fact, the bottle is on the table, tipped over and sluggishly dripping from the mouth. The kitchen reeks of whisky and his head pounds. At least he’d been home alone, and nobody had seen him slip back into old habits.

Strange days, Jake thinks to himself. And strange dreams! That was a real humdinger of a nightmare. He hasn’t dreamed of Dirk in years. And it had felt so real, almost like he could have reached out and touched him--

- - - - + + + +

JAKE: What in the flibergating fuck!

DIRK: That’s not a word.

@@ -133,9 +133,9 @@

DIRK: Better you than me, honestly. Sounds exhausting.

DIRK: You’re going to do this, and we both know it. So why are we even still arguing?

- - - + + +

JANE: Boo hoo hoo! Oh, Jake! Something awful has happened!

JAKE: It--it has? You mean more awful than usual?

@@ -144,16 +144,16 @@

It’s then that Jake realizes that Jane isn’t mad because she’d never realized he was gone. It makes sense. There’s been plenty of times when the two of them didn’t cross paths for days at a time. The perils of living in a mansion, he supposes. She seems to have forgotten that she’d been cross with him the last time they met, because now that Gamzee is gone, there’s no one left to talk to.

She recovers from her crying jag with grace, straightening up and wiping at her eyes. Miraculously, her mascara remains unstreaked. Even in moments of vulnerability she is bulletproof.

- +

Jake stands there and listens as she lays out her plans, plans of vengeance and violence, and he makes himself smile and he makes himself nod. Honestly, it’s not unlike any other night he’s spent with Janey lately, right down to the pit of misery gnawing somewhere below his belly button. All of it is made worse by the occasional wry glint in her eye, or moment of self-deprecation in the slant of her mouth. It reminds him of the Jane he used to know. Or the Jane he thought he used to know.

Then there’s the ghostly presence of his former beau and best bro. That’s different.

At first Dirk stands at Jake’s elbow, a one-ghost support staff, before he appears to lose interest in Jane’s rant and wanders off across the office, reading the spines of books and spending way too long staring at a startlingly phallic piece of installation art, the provenance of which Jake doesn’t know, but could hazard a guess it wore a codpiece. Then he settles on Jane’s desk, propping his ghost butt there and sort of just...well.

Here’s a picture of what he does.

- +

Okay. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. It’s more like...this.

- +

Whatever the case, it’s distracting. And by the time Jane loses steam and dismisses Jake from her presence, he’s thoroughly exhausted from attempting to pay attention to his supervillain wife while trying not to look at the crotch of a ghost man from his brain.

- +

JAKE: Dirk i dont think i can do this.

DIRK: What do you mean? You just did it. You kicked ass back there.

@@ -174,7 +174,7 @@

DIRK: The world comes first, even at the expense of all your relationships and personal happiness. That’s what being a hero means.

JAKE: I guess...i never really thought about it like that.

- +

DIRK: Think what you want about Jane, but at least she realizes that none of you can ever be normal, and she never bothered to try. Can it really be a god-complex if you’re actually a god?

DIRK: People like us don’t get happy endings.

@@ -184,7 +184,7 @@

JAKE: Is...is that really how dirk felt the whole gosh darned time?

DIRK: It doesn’t matter.

- +

> CHAPTER 2. Clown Logistics

diff --git a/chapter10.html b/chapter10.html index 305d58e..20ad77e 100644 --- a/chapter10.html +++ b/chapter10.html @@ -15,29 +15,29 @@

CHAPTER 10. 1 WOND3R WH4T TH3Y T4ST3 L1K3

- +

 

 

- +

 

 

- +

TEREZI: W3LL

 

- +

TEREZI: TH4T W4S PR3TTY FUCK1NG STUP1D

 

- +

TEREZI: F4LL1NG 4SL33P H3R3 1S JUST 4SK1NG FOR TROUBL3

 

- +

TEREZI: NODD1NG OFF L1K3 TH4T UND3RN34TH 4N 4RBOR34L 4MBUL4TOR

TEREZI: WHO KNOWS WH4T COULD H4V3 H4PP3N3D

@@ -51,7 +51,7 @@

TEREZI: TH3S3 N3TWORKS 4R3 SO SOPH1ST1C4T3D TH4T TH3 SH1FT1NG PR3SSUR3 1NS1D3 TH3 TRUNK 4ND BR4NCH3S C4N C4US3 TH3 3NT1R3 PL4NT TO UPROOT 1TS3LF 4ND B3G1N "W4LK1NG", PROV1D3D TH3 COND1T1ONS 4R3 R1GHT

TEREZI: TH1S PROC3SS, WH1L3 M4J3ST1C, C4N H4V3 DR4ST1C 3FF3CTS ON TH3 PL4NTS SURROUND1NGS

- +

TEREZI: TH3 CONST4NT SH1FT1NG OF TH3 SO1L CR34T3S L4RG3 CR3V4SS3S 4ND R4V1N3S 4LMOST 1NST4NTLY, R3D1R3CT1NG W4T3RCOURS3S 4ND 4LT3R1NG TH3 L4NDSC4P3 OV3R 4ND OV3R W1TH 34CH STR1D3

TEREZI: HUP!

@@ -66,12 +66,12 @@

TEREZI: ...

TEREZI: 1 WOND3R WH4T TH3Y T4ST3 L1K3 >:O

- - - - - - + + + + + +

What... a truly... magnificent beast.

A chill falls over Terezi, draping her in shadows. The monster rears its gelatinous bulk up over her and unleashes a noise from its cavernous mouth that can really only be described as a “squelch”. A squelch made from vocal cords.

Oh fuck.

@@ -79,8 +79,8 @@

She throws backward sniffs over her shoulder as she tears through the scrubby cling of the planet’s undergrowth, catching fractured impressions of exactly what has decided to chase her. A shuddering, 20 foot monstrosity that somehow seems to both scamper and glide, like a centipede, rustling like foliage as it moves, as if an entire goddamn forest is bearing down on her. Her heels sink into bubbling mud. The whole landscape is fighting her.

The creature is too strange for her to get a full picture of it like this. The problem with using smells to navigate the world is that the unfamiliar can be difficult to parse. Every whiff over her shoulder gives her another blurry glimpse of what this beast is. Rose shared her books with Terezi when she was on the ship, and her favorite by far was the compendium of the zoologically dubious. Everything contained inside was just so unbelievably unlikely. This creature appears to be a combination of all of them.

All of this sticking her nose backward is just asking for trouble, and with a particularly vicious twist, Terezi’s ankle turns and she goes down into the mud.

- - + +

The centipede-tree avatar of ultimate horror doesn’t waste any time hauling her up by the boot, the fetid stench of the alien mud making her vision go streaky and dark. Hot, reeking breath washes over her, but her entire body is coated ice that ripples and spikes across her ribs and on down into her gastric sack. It’s fear, pure and simple. Unsurprising, when being menaced by a monster, but it also doesn’t last for more than a second. A cold flame that instantly burns itself out, and all of a sudden she is just deeply, impossibly, indescribably tired. Down to her bones.

Honestly, she really has no right to feel this... this fatigue. This crushing embrace of endless struggle. Terezi Pyrope has not had an easy life by anyone’s standards, but so much of her thirteen or so sweeps has just been standing still. Waiting. Huddling blind and half dead in her recuperacoon, the sopor burning the hideous mess that the sun has left her eyes, alight with a hatred so layered and intense that she couldn’t make sense of it. It was horrifying--that pain or fury--but also, admittedly, very boring. Then there were the sweeps on the meteor, the endless, gelatinous stretches of time in the chaos of the outer ring, searching for... Vriska, ostensibly, but also maybe just for a chance to dry up. To disappear. Go extinct.

Terezi doesn’t know if it’s an attribute of her aspect, or the sheer psychic damage of spending so long in the company of two humans with god complexes. Maybe it’s just an inherited symptom of being conscious. But sometimes it feels like none of them are going to get out of this, alive or dead.

diff --git a/chapter11.html b/chapter11.html index 854fe73..a23bdee 100644 --- a/chapter11.html +++ b/chapter11.html @@ -15,13 +15,13 @@

CHAPTER 11. History's Most Notorious Haters

- +
Knight:
> Knight: Keep it real.
- +

DAVEBOT: and thats reason four hundred nineteen why despite my mans many accomplishments i will never acknowledge big skateboardings contrived message that tony hawk is the quintessential skater of our generation

ARADIA: o_o

@@ -62,7 +62,7 @@

ARADIA: tough crowd

- +

DAVEBOT: ok heres one

DAVEBOT: how old do you think you are

@@ -114,13 +114,13 @@ (==>)
> (Months in the past, but not many...)
- - + + [S] (Gaze.)
(View on homestuck2.com) - +

SOLLUX: h0w the fuck am i g0ing t0 get d0wn fr0m here.

@@ -128,7 +128,7 @@ ==>
> Back to reality.
- +

ARADIA: he is probably ok

DAVEBOT: so youre telling me you dont even feel a little bad that you ditched him to be a weird death acolyte

@@ -203,9 +203,9 @@
> Weeks in the future, relative to the original point of interest...
- +
- +

Moments like these are not rare, and serve a valuable function to the story. They are able to show a passage of time with the bulk of the emotional labor of a lengthy bonding process happening off screen. How did we get here? What have they been through? These questions are often better left open to individual interpretation and can give the one interpreting a sense of ownership of the story.

JADE: As a point of curiosity-

@@ -276,14 +276,14 @@

JADE: ......

ARADIA: .......

- +

JADE: time

ARADIA: ouo

- - - + + +

> CHAPTER 12. Really Convolued Metaphorical Horseshit

diff --git a/chapter12.html b/chapter12.html index 7ed5542..348ed97 100644 --- a/chapter12.html +++ b/chapter12.html @@ -14,7 +14,7 @@

CHAPTER 12. Really Convoluted Metaphorical Horseshit

- +

In the bowels of a different ship, at a moment in time that is not pinpointable in either direction from the previous interaction, another Dave raps quietly to himself.

DAVE: i dunno who the flower is in this case

@@ -33,7 +33,7 @@

KARKAT: AND YET SOMEHOW BASICALLY ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED SINCE WE STARTED THE LOAD IS THAT YOU’VE BEEN USING IT AS A FUCKED UP BEAT TO WHISPER TO YOURSELF ABOUT FLOWERS TO.

KARKAT: AT THIS POINT I'M EITHER GOING TO NEED YOU TO SPEAK UP OR FOLLOW ME THE FUCK ON OUT OF HERE, BECAUSE THIS IS EXCRUCIATING.

- +

DAVE: ok fine ill do the first one

KARKAT: GREAT. TURN UP THE FLOWER TALK VOLUME.

@@ -81,7 +81,7 @@

KARKAT: GREAT. ANYWAY, LIKE I WAS SAYING, FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET HUMAN CHRIST, PLEASE BACK UP TO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE ACTUALLY SCARED OF.

KARKAT: ALSO COME HERE, IDIOT.

- +

DAVE: ok yeah this is a better position to unleash all my inner fears n anxieties from

DAVE: so uh

@@ -133,16 +133,16 @@

DAVE: and now thanks to dirk we have to work it out right the fuck now

DAVE: because i cant spend this trip just sitting around watching you get old and die

- +
Dave:
> Dave: Grapple with the clean, soggy consequences of the passage of time.
- +

DAVE: fuck ok one sec

- +

KARKAT: OK SO I WAS WITH YOU FOR A WHILE, THERE.

KARKAT: BUT I HAVE TO LODGE A STERN ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOPE ON THAT LAST PART, DUDE.

@@ -153,13 +153,13 @@

KARKAT: NO PROBLEM. SORRY, MAN.

DAVE: yea no worries

- - - + + +

DAVE: ok go on

- +

KARKAT: OK SO LIKE I WAS SAYING, I GET YOU ON THE FIRST PART.

KARKAT: IT'S NOT LIKE I'M NEW TO THE PARTICULAR MOOBEAST WRANGLING EVENT OF SOMEONE I PREVIOUSLY LOVED BRUTALLY TURNING ON ME AND LEAVING ME TO TRY AND CRAM MY FEELINGS ABOUT THE SITUATION BACK TOGETHER ALL ON MY OWN.

@@ -186,11 +186,11 @@

KARKAT: AND THREE: WE'RE DOING THAT BECAUSE WE HAVE FRIENDS WHO WE CARE ABOUT THAT NEED US. THAT IS OUR FOCUS, HERE. NOT OUR FEAR. IT'S ABOUT THE PEOPLE WE HAVE TO SAVE.

KARKAT: SO DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT ME, DAVE. I'M FINE.

- +

Dave is still afraid. There is a part of him that will always be, he thinks. He has accepted this about himself. There is another feeling coursing through him too, though. It’s something he's felt before, though never quite so intensely. He looks up at Karkat and understands, viscerally, the simple power his words have. They pump through Dave’s own body, alive and warm and true.

He wonders if Karkat realizes it, or if he’s just, as always, saying what he feels as he feels it. Dave doesn’t attempt to dissect it further. There will be time for that later.

- +

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

diff --git a/chapter13.html b/chapter13.html index 58ed0cf..4405842 100644 --- a/chapter13.html +++ b/chapter13.html @@ -14,18 +14,18 @@

CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

- +

JANE: Dearly beloved...

- +

JANE: Ladies...

JANE: Gentlemen...

JANE: News outlets...

JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

- +

JANE: Thank you, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to gather with me and my family today.

JANE: A day of exquisite loss and mourning.

@@ -34,18 +34,18 @@

JANE: But today is a day of healing, of memories.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

- +

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

- +

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

- +

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in.

@@ -56,39 +56,39 @@

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse.

JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

- +

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

- +

JANE: Poised

- +

JANE: Trembling

- +

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

- +

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

- - + +

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

- - + +

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure!

JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom!

JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

- +

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar?

DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot.

@@ -103,21 +103,21 @@

JAKE: Why dont you do something!

DIRK: Because I don’t really exist, dickhead.

- +

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain!

JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society.

JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

- +

JANE: !!!!

- - - + + +
- +

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you.

@@ -141,7 +141,7 @@

JANE: But let’s be serious.

JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

- +

JAKE: Hot spit and monkey vomit this is getting bad

JAKE: I-I shouldnt have let her go up there

@@ -149,19 +149,19 @@

DIRK: Still might.

- +

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

There he flies--in his gangly, purple, necrotizing glory. A phantom honk seems to hang above the congregation, as if from an echo of a time long past. A simpler time. A time before we had to deal with this disgusting clown’s bloated corpse every other update. He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

- +

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

- +

JANE: Enough of this.

JANE: Seize her!

- +

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

> CHAPTER 14. The Best Laid Plans

diff --git a/chapter14.html b/chapter14.html index 2f6a399..8978f73 100644 --- a/chapter14.html +++ b/chapter14.html @@ -9,16 +9,16 @@

CHAPTER 14. The Best Laid Plans

- +
- +
@@ -159,7 +159,7 @@
- +

JOHN: so anyway, as you can see, this would have worked just fine!

HARRY: no i think karkat’s right. this looks like shit, dad.

@@ -184,17 +184,17 @@

JOHN: i don’t hear any more screaming, anyway.

JOHN: see, that's one good plan between the two of us!

- +

HARRY: oh, that was definitely them leaving, wasn’t it.

JOHN: ah.

 

- - - + + +
- +

JANE: Well, isn't this just heartwarming? The prodigal daughter returned to the loving bosom of her family.

@@ -212,16 +212,16 @@

JANE: Your ship is in contested airspace. You will land, whereby it will be confiscated by the Royal Human Guard. After that you will be taken into custody.

JANE: All of you. Let's call it a family vacation, shall we? Hoo hoo hoo.

- +

JADE: wow could you be any more full of yourself??

JADE: shut the fuck up for a minute and look up!

- - - + + +
- +

KANAYA: If You Make One Single Move I Will Bite Him Directly On The Exterior Shout Tunnel

@@ -239,11 +239,11 @@

ROSE: If any harm comes to us, or Yiffy, or if you attempt to shoot us down or in any other way disable our escape--

ROSE: Then you kill your son.

- +

Jane Crocker hesitates.

This is something that she used to do regularly. Hesitate. Stop and think and weigh her options. Talk out every possible scenario and the impact they might have, morally and optically and socially. What would the political apparatus think? What would her social media followers think, her friends? As the years went by and she honed her instincts, she found herself doing this less and less. The impact that her words made became lessened when spread out across such a wide and thirsty audience, as public sentiment began to swing her way. She stopped thinking about how she would be received, and more about how she could play to the people she knew would receive her favorably.

Looking up she sees Tavvy with tears in his eyes. Rage and guilt surge inside her. This situation is not her fault.

- +

JANE: This situation is not my fault!

JANE: You're coming here and accusing me of kidnapping your daughter, when you're the ones who kidnapped my son!

@@ -254,29 +254,29 @@

JADE: you offered!

JADE: so stop calling me ungrateful for not sucking your dick over things i never asked for!

- +

Jane pulls in a steadying breath. Behind her, she hears the click of cameras and the murmur of newscasters. The world is watching her be dressed down by a couple blood traitor rebels, one of which has very prominent dog ears. Jane wonders if either of them are even recognizable to the assembled as two of the old gods. One of her PR managers had recommended that she keep her look as static as possible, so that people can always recognize her as Jane Crocker, Captain of Industry, Creator of Earth C, Maintainer of Peace and Plenty.

She can't just stand here and let herself be humiliated, allowing two architects of the insurgency mess her around like this.

If they were to kill Tavros, the entire world would see them commit this war crime. And weighed in the balance, Lalonde and Harley would be off the playing board. Saving your daughter certainly counted as a heroic death, and with the damage they'd done to humanity, it would also probably be just.

Tavros has not called out for her once. Perhaps he knows what her choice was always going to be.

- +

JAKE: Tavvy!

- - + +

JANE: Stand down!

- +

JANE: Get out of my sight.

 

 

- +

Vriska Maryam-Lalonde, recently "Vrissy," and potentially "You Are So Grounded You Are Never Leaving The House Again," isn’t what’s commonly referred to as an "outside girl".

She likes grass. It’s fine! To look at. And so are trees, as long as they’re somewhere off in the distance, swaying gently in the breeze. Trampling through them is not on the list of acceptable tree activities. Vrissy is already sweaty and dirt-streaked, and there’s probably like fifty gnats trying to drink her eye fluids. At this rate she almost envies Tavros his role as Batterwitch Bait. Sure, he has to pretend to be threatened by Vrissy’s mom, which is lame as hell and also very embarrassing, but at least his eye fluids are safe.

@@ -308,7 +308,7 @@

VRISKA: I’ve got a plan.

VRISKA: Look, up ahead.

- +

VRISSY: What?

VRISSY: A SGRU8 session?

@@ -317,13 +317,13 @@

VRISSY: !!

VRISKA: Don’t worry about it, that’s good. That’s what we’re looking for.

- +

VRISSY: Uh... who are we Ambushing?

VRISKA: Don’t 8e stupid, we’re the ones being am8ushed.

VRISSY: !!!!!!

- +

VRISKA: HA your face is priceless.

VRISKA: This is actually way more fun than I thought it would 8e.

@@ -331,52 +331,52 @@

VRISSY: I think we’re 8asically the Same Age.

VRISKA: Whatever!

- - - + + +

VRISSY: Oh Fuck

VRISKA: Finally!!!!!!!!

- - + +
- +

 

- +

JOHN: vriska!

JOHN: i mean, vriskas!!

JOHN: where are

JOHN: oh fuck

- - + +
- +
- +
- +
- - - + + +

 

 

 

- +

 

- +

 

- +

 

- +

KARKAT: ROUGH DAY, HUH.

- +

JOHN: karkat?

JOHN: what are you doing here?

@@ -521,7 +521,7 @@

JOHN: wait, hold on.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD WHAT NOW.

- +

JOHN: you can't be leaving already.

JOHN: there's... so much we still need to talk about!

@@ -547,7 +547,7 @@

JOHN: i mean, look at you.

JOHN: you are decked out in a tight body suit and have an eyepatch and everything. there is simply no way there isn't something to discuss there.

- +

JOHN: or like, forget the eyepatch, we don't have to talk about the eyepatch.

JOHN: i feel as though my point still stands?

@@ -586,11 +586,11 @@

KARKAT: ARE YOU PREPARED TO BE INUNDATED WITH NONE OTHER THAN AN UNINTERRUPTED SPATE OF HARD, UNEMBELLISHED DATA VIS A VIS MY SWEEPS-SUPPRESSED, BISCUITFELT EMOTIONS ON THE DAVE SITUATION??

KARKAT: WELL HERE GOES.

- +

KARKAT: *DEEP BREATH*

- +

KARKAT: YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW I REALLY FEEL ABOUT DAVE?

KARKAT: HOW I FEEL IS THAT I WISH THAT EVERYONE WOULD STOP FUCKING BOTHERING ME ABOUT HIM!!!

@@ -608,7 +608,7 @@

KARKAT: I FEEL LIKE IF ANYONE COULD HAVE PREVENTED TODAY FROM DEVOLVING INTO A HEADLESS CLUSTERFUCK, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN... OKAY, MAYBE NOT HIM, BUT AT LEAST HE MIGHT HAVE HELPED DRAG YOU OUT OF YOUR DEPRESSIVE FUGUE A LITTLE SOONER!

JOHN: (oh shit.)

- +

KARKAT: NOT ONLY THAT, BUT MAYBE WITH BOTH OF US HERE WE COULD HAVE DISPENSED WITH THIS ENTIRE SORRY TOPIC ONCE AND FOR ALL, IF ONLY FOR YOUR BENEFIT!

KARKAT: OH HI DAVE, JOHN SEEMS TO BE UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT THE UNSPOKEN HISTORY BETWEEN US IS OF SUFFICIENT IMPORT THAT WE NEED TO HASH IT OUT THIS VERY SECOND IN FRONT OF THE BLASTED REMAINS OF HIS HOME!

@@ -623,7 +623,7 @@

KARKAT: IN FACT, WHY DON'T YOU CALL DAVE AND GET HIM OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!

JOHN: (oh my god...)

- +

KARKAT: MAYBE WE SHOULD GET JADE TO COME AS WELL!

JOHN: ):

@@ -641,7 +641,7 @@

KARKAT: IF JUST FOR AN *INSTANT* IT WILL GET EVERYONE OFF MY CASE ABOUT THIS, I WILL STAND UP WITH DAVE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE ***FUCKING WORLD*** AND SOLEMNLY VOW THAT I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT!!!!

JOHN: KARKAT!!!!

- +

JOHN: ugh, fuck, this is just too much!

JOHN: i thought you KNEW!

@@ -650,7 +650,7 @@

JOHN: he's...

JOHN: he's dead.

- +

JOHN: i didn't mean for you to find out like this at all, i thought...

JOHN: i mean, i only heard about it yesterday, but i was convinced someone would have told you already!

@@ -663,7 +663,7 @@

KARKAT:

KARKAT: HE...

- +

KARKAT: HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE?

diff --git a/chapter2.html b/chapter2.html index a45b31e..2160dcd 100644 --- a/chapter2.html +++ b/chapter2.html @@ -14,14 +14,14 @@

CHAPTER 2. Clown Logistics

- +

Minutes in the past, but not many, (Vriska) pockets John’s phone before she can worry too much about waiting for a reply from Terezi.

Wait, not John’s phone, she thinks. Her phone. Yeah. If she’s gonna hack it here on this piece of shit planet, she’s gonna need every break she can catch. It’s time to start staking some claims.

In the spirit of that, she looks back at Vriska, still politely leaning against the clown’s corpse, ignoring her. (Vriska) swallows, thankful to not have to verbalize her appreciation for the distance she was just granted.

(VRISKA): So, a8out there 8eing two of us.

- +

Vriska grins up at her, shielding her eyes from the sun. She is a poised, lipstick’d reflection of the unkempt original. (Vriska) is suddenly acutely aware of the dirt ground into her clothes and face. She flexes her hand and the dried purple blood cracks and flakes.

VRISKA: What a8out it?

@@ -35,7 +35,7 @@

(Vriska) considers her options. She needs something good, but not TOO good.

What will her nickname be?

- +

In her final act before shredding the parentheses like old skin, she extends her hand down to pull up her double.

VRISKA: Nice to meet you, Vrissy.

@@ -54,7 +54,7 @@

VRISSY: Heh. Yeah.

VRISSY: Anyway, I have some People I can call. Hold on.

- +

VRISSY: Hey, it’s Vrissy.

TAVROS: w,, who,

@@ -79,7 +79,7 @@

VRISSY: That was Tavros. He’s on his way.

- +

Vriska flinches instinctively. She’s still working on processing her most recent blast from the past. She’s not prepared for another.

VRISKA: Who?

@@ -90,11 +90,11 @@

VRISKA: Unless he’ll rat us out to his mom????????

VRISSY: Nah. He’ll get too much of a Kick out of seeing this dead Piece of Shit, don’t Worry.

- +

Vriska doesn’t worry, but she does pace. She has only done a few laps around the perimeter by the time the hovercar glides up silently.

Vrissy hates that ostentatious prick-mobile, mostly because it is not her ostentatious prick-mobile. But you do get what you pay for, and a rich kid’s mom’s attempt to buy his love may actually come in handy for something other than very quietly chauffeuring his friends around, now that actual spy shit seems like it is about to go down.

- - + +

He barely has time to shut the door before he spots Gamzee and yelps, flinging himself dramatically back against it.

Both Vriskas speak at once:

@@ -114,10 +114,10 @@

Tavros says nothing. His eyes flit from Vrissy to Vriska to Gamzee, and then shut. Everyone is still. Tavros’s thin chest rises and falls.

After a few beats, he propels himself off the car like a swimmer at the sound of a gun, his body plunging in a graceful arc toward his goal.

- +

His fists don’t do more than thunk a brief, ineffectual staccato against Gamzee’s ribcage, but the sound that rips from him is like years of suppressed screams, all unleashed in one reverberating howl of anguish. It nearly smothers the one small noise made by Tavros’ single kick to his dead stepclown’s head:

h o n k

- +

Vrissy and Vriska don’t know fully what it is he is feeling, but they stay back and let him feel it. They don’t intervene until he stands up on his own, wiping his palms against the tears on his cheeks. Vrissy pats him solidly on the back.

VRISSY: Fuck that guy, am I right?

@@ -129,7 +129,7 @@

TAVROS: the both of you

VRISSY: Soooooooo, the trunk?

- +

Vrissy and Vriska get under each arm, with Tavros piloting his legs. He fumbles a bit, trying to lift his chin to make eye contact with his companions.

TAVROS: Pleasure to meet you,, Vriska,

@@ -140,14 +140,14 @@

VRISSY: Yeah.

TAVROS: Yes,

- - + +

Tavros sighs. Sometimes, he thinks, you might have had different things in mind for your day, or your life. You may have wanted something else for your ol’ uncle clown, even if what that could even have even been is buried under too many faygo-sticky years to begin unearthing it. You may, he decides as he steps toward where Gamzee’s head has lolled backward against the bumper, just simply wake up one morning and have to play the final clown hand you have been dealt. And mayhap that clown hand is dead and in your trunk, and though you are not responsible for it being there, nor are you completely ready to deal with the emotional repercussions of its presence, you still have to figure out what to do with the physical and legal reality of it. And all that, with what feels like the eyes of the world on you, even if it is just the 9 eyes of your girlfriend and her alt-self.

He feels a sudden rush of hot, stifling...something. He refuses, this time, to call it fear. He’s got to cool down. Stay steady. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it into the trunk too.

- - + +

Not far away, another human kid is attending human school in the heart of the human kingdom. He is walking through the halls toward his final class of the day like he owns the place, which he does not. He answers his phone without checking to see who is calling.

- +

HARRY ANDERSON: yo.

VRISSY: Hey

@@ -170,17 +170,17 @@

VRISSY: I thought it might take more convincing to get you on 8oard. I’m glad to see you finally getting into the revolutionary spir8.

HARRY ANDERSON: anything for you, vris.

- +

VRISSY: We’re here, what now????????

- +

VRISKA: ...

VRISSY: ...

TAVROS: ,,,

- +

VRISSY: UGH what is taking him so long?

TAVROS: I find him slow to respond,,, typically,

@@ -221,15 +221,15 @@

VRISKA: Come on Tavros, let’s do this thing, she’ll come if she wants.

VRISSY: Tavros, don’t listen to her.

- +

TAVROS: Righto,

- +

The two of them struggle to manage the body between them. It was a lot easier with three.

Vrissy watches them from the passenger seat until it slides from their grip with 10 feet left to the fabled back door.

The back parking lot is empty, for now, but she knows it won’t stay that way. This is not going to end well, she can feel it. She can't tell if Tavros left because he was weak enough to be swayed by Vriska, or if it's because he's getting ballsy enough to enjoy telling Vrissy no. It pisses her off either way, and she can't lose that. Can’t lose him. And Vriska… her being around is something so new she doesn't know what to think about it yet, but if they die, she won't get a chance to figure it out. She sighs, pockets the keys, and opens the door.

- +

VRISKA: Welcome 8ack, 8a8e.

VRISSY: I can’t stand watching you two fuck up this fucking 8ad.

@@ -237,15 +237,15 @@

VRISKA: Gra8 his middle and let’s get moving.

They heave him up, stumbling only a little as they make it the rest of the way into the building.

- +

The halls are empty and heavy with anticipatory silence. There is only about an hour left in the school day, and the bored, restless energy shivers through the quiet in indiscernible whispers from behind closed classroom doors.

None of them know where they are going, but Vriska is leading the way, hunched and purposeful, Gamzee’s head against her shoulder, an arm around each horn like a yoke.

There is something incredibly reassuring, Tavros thinks, about someone who has absolute outward confidence in themselves. The soothing lull of following a simple direction is so overpowering it blots out the logical part of him that knows this is, perhaps, the most outlandishly stupid succession of decisions he has ever made. It also leaves a comforting buffer of reality between himself and Gamzee’s ugly pointy elf feet resting on his shoulder. But shucks, who knows, maybe there IS an incinerator. He’s homeschooled, so what does he know? And if anyone could be lucky enough to stumble upon one, it might as well be this Vriska.

Tavros is considering this when he hears something. It sounds like the creak of an underfunded public school door, but it could also have been a honk, or the beating of his own heart. He stops in his tracks.

Vriska and Vrissy do not.

- +

The aforementioned pointy shoe hooks Tavros by the neck on its way past him, pulling him to the floor. Vriska and Vrissy follow like bowling pins.

- +

VRISKA: Shit!!!!!!!!

TAVROS: I’m ever so sorry,, the shoe,,,,,

@@ -266,9 +266,9 @@

VRISKA: Yeah, a8out as much time as this dum8shit conversation, so,

VRISKA: NOW.

- +

They heave the body upward above their heads and keep walking, invigorated with fresh direction. Emotionally, anyway. They still do not have a physical direction in mind, which doesn’t stop them from marching onward.

- +

VRISKA: SHHHHHHHH

VRISSY: SHHHHHHHH

@@ -282,9 +282,9 @@

TAVROS: Oh no,,, I thought you knew?

VRISSY: Keep looking for Harry Anderson. He’s In The Shit with us now, whether he likes it or not.

- - - + + +

VRISKA: What now????????

VRISSY: It’s stuck. Pull, you 8astards!

@@ -292,9 +292,9 @@

VRISKA: I hear movement, pull FASTER.

The body was already heavy and slippery enough. With the added fire safety deluge bearing down on them from every sprinkler in the hall, they have no chance. They scramble to hold on to him, but he is as slick as a greased pig and twice as unwieldy.

- +

The human students, trained to respond to a fire drill with speed and enthusiasm for missed class time, are out in the hall in a matter of seconds.

- +

IMODE: Is it a real 🔥??

SILAS: I do declare, it’s trolls!

@@ -305,11 +305,11 @@

TAVROS: Wh,

VRISSY: Ditch it, Tavros, we gotta move.

- +

VRISSY: Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit.

- +

VRISSY: Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit.

TAVROS: We were fortunate this hall was, uh,,, empty,

@@ -322,8 +322,8 @@

VRISKA: We just wait til they all go home and sneak out! We’re nowhere near 8eat, yet.

VRISSY: If those assholes have a lot of Followers, we might as well 8e.

- - + +

Jane Crocker doesn’t have a lot of time to waste on social media. Big society-altering business decisions don’t get made on a lax schedule. After a few dozen honk alerts, though, she allows herself a break to see what the hullabaloo is.

She sees it, and she can’t breathe. Her lover, her confidante, her clown of many years, being desecrated by a bunch of treasonous monsters.

Jane barely has time to register one gutting blow before another follows it. A sob chokes itself out of her.

@@ -334,13 +334,13 @@

JANE: My family! My entire family!

JANE: This cannot go unavenged.

- - + +

Jane then proceeds to have the rest of this conversation we already read.

- - - - + + + +

HARRY ANDERSON: oh fuck

diff --git a/chapter3.html b/chapter3.html index b947607..13c80bd 100644 --- a/chapter3.html +++ b/chapter3.html @@ -14,16 +14,16 @@

CHAPTER 3. How Are Your Feelings

- - - + + +
???
> i enter.
- - - + + +

JADE: the prince’s power grows.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

@@ -32,7 +32,7 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> the knight of blood falls.
- +

JADE: i feel him resonate through the void.

KARKAT: FUCKING GREAT.

@@ -43,8 +43,8 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> karkat is characteristically appreciative of the alarm call.
- - + +

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM!

KARKAT: NEXT TIME I’LL JUST PULL THE COVERS BACK AND LET HER CLIMB IN!

@@ -69,8 +69,8 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> sleep is abandoned, coffee saught.
- - + +

KARKAT: IT’S NOT LIKE WE ACTUALLY HAVE ANYTHING TO WAKE UP FOR.

KARKAT: GO BACK TO BED.

@@ -85,7 +85,7 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> the rogue is also awake.
- +

ROXY: oh what up

ROXY: its a whole ass pajama party up in here

@@ -103,7 +103,7 @@

ROXY: sure

KARKAT: YEAH, THANKS.

- +

DAVE: hate to give it up to venture capitalism but this coffee is EONS better than the garbage we had on the meteor

DAVE: this ship is maybe the dumbest thing ive ever looked at but its a give and take right

@@ -118,7 +118,7 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> the prince is contemplated for a moment in silence.
- +

KARKAT: WHY ARE YOU UP ANYWAY?

ROXY: well i wasnt but then somebody screamed like a rooster boned a teapot and had a noisy lovechild

@@ -167,20 +167,20 @@ Alt. Calliope wrote:
> the knight of time seeks a sylph...
- +
Alt. Calliope wrote:
> ...and finds her, momentarily.
- - + +

DAVE: you ever feel like our whole lives are eventually gonna end up like this

DAVE: just blasting through space on a sweeps long journey to ""somewhere"" chasing after or running from some vague enemy thats sometimes a god modded pet dog and sometimes your dad

DAVE: without the faintest fucking idea of whats going to happen when we get there

DAVE: thats a little specific but you know what i mean

- +

KANAYA: Hello Dave

DAVE: sup

@@ -223,7 +223,7 @@

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: so what was the story

- +

KANAYA: Oh Its A Wriggler Story About A Young Prince And The Beloved Flower He Loved And Lost

DAVE: flower

@@ -263,7 +263,7 @@

KANAYA: Of Course

KANAYA: Its Not My Observation Deck

- +

DAVE: cool

DAVE: sorry i know you say you got your badass monster powers but kanaya you look tired as hell

@@ -287,8 +287,8 @@

DAVE: and yeah roxy is rad but our relationship is pretty fucking convoluted if were being totally honest

DAVE: youre the only person i know whos still basically the same as when i met you

- - + +

DAVE: no stay with me here

DAVE: i know people grow and change and shit its dumb to think you havent improved or whatever since we met ten years ago

@@ -312,7 +312,7 @@

DAVE: what about me what

KANAYA: How Are Your Feelings

- +

DAVE: oh those

DAVE: yeah theyre pretty good

@@ -342,12 +342,12 @@

DAVE: but all that aside i really do think were better off out here

DAVE: at least i am

- +
Alt. Calliope wrote:
> meanwhile...
- +

ROXY: sooooo

ROXY: do u want pancakes

@@ -381,7 +381,7 @@

ROXY: ur kinda an intense dude anybody ever tell u that

KARKAT: NO.

- +

KARKAT: MY POINT IS, THIS IS THE BEST POSSIBLE SCENARIO FOR ME. I DON’T EVEN LIKE EARTH THAT MUCH.

ROXY: well ur lucky i guess

@@ -396,7 +396,7 @@

KARKAT: I GUESS.

ROXY: so...u want pancakes?

- +

KARKAT: YEAH. OKAY.

diff --git a/chapter4.html b/chapter4.html index 864afd0..072d7e3 100644 --- a/chapter4.html +++ b/chapter4.html @@ -14,13 +14,13 @@

CHAPTER 4. The Contest

- +

Light-years away...

- - - - - + + + + +

DIRK: Are you finished posing dramatically out there?

DIRK: I think Terezi wants a turn.

@@ -29,7 +29,7 @@ Rose:
> Rose: Enter.
- +

ROSEBOT: She's more than welcome. I've had my fill.

DIRK: Feels good, doesn't it.

@@ -39,7 +39,7 @@ Rose:
> Rose: Render yourself more symbolically this instant.
- +

DIRK: Terezi, you too.

TEREZI: NO TH4NKS 1M GOOD

@@ -99,7 +99,7 @@

TEREZI: 1 WONT

DIRK: Ok.

- +

ROSE: That was... odd.

ROSE: Even by Terezi's standards.

@@ -110,14 +110,14 @@

ROSE: A part of "this"?

DIRK: This.

- +

ROSE: You mean she isn’t a god.

DIRK: She isn’t a ruler.

DIRK: She isn’t suited for it.

ROSE: And we are?

- +

DIRK: Come on. You know that we are.

DIRK: But I think I can present a pretty convincing case if need be.

@@ -143,7 +143,7 @@

ROSE: I’ll pencil it in.

DIRK: For now, we need to talk about Deltritus.

- +

ROSE: I'd like to suggest a preliminary topic of discussion.

DIRK: Shoot.

@@ -320,7 +320,7 @@

DIRK: Meme-a culpa.

ROSE: I regret everything.

- +

DIRK: Bullshit aside, that's the contest I'd like to propose.

DIRK: Two gods, two species, one copy of the Game.

@@ -351,9 +351,9 @@ Dirk and Rose:
> Dirk and Rose: Proceed to lab.
- - - + + +

ROSE: This cave has a lab-like ambiance, I’ll give it that. And I’ve seen a few labs in my time.

DIRK: Sweet. It's got the Lalonde witticism of approval.

@@ -394,9 +394,9 @@

ROSE: Roll the first die.

DIRK: Alright, sweet.

- - - + + +

DIRK: First thing's first, getting ahold of myself.

DIRK: There's about fifteen different unfunny jokes we could make about that but let's just fucking chill for once in our goddamn lives.

@@ -404,8 +404,8 @@

ROSE: And I’ll make no mention of you sucking yourself in any capacity.

DIRK: God shitting damn it.

- - + +

DIRK: Next step is adding mutations.

DIRK: We can use any old shit for this. Literally any captchalogueable object can be added into the mix by inserting its card into one of the slots here.

@@ -416,8 +416,8 @@

DIRK: Inside of this machine is one big artificial genetic infidelity bonanza.

ROSE: Dave would approve.

- - + +

ROSE: Hm?

DIRK: Sup.

@@ -440,7 +440,7 @@

ROSE: ...

ROSE: I think I missed this.

- +

DIRK: Ok, that should be everything taken care of.

DIRK: This will be my first move, the opening gambit in the grand game of fate for this planet.

@@ -451,13 +451,13 @@ Dirk:
> Dirk: Push the button.
- - - + + +

DIRK: Behold...

- +

DIRK: My creation.

@@ -465,10 +465,10 @@ Dirk and Rose:
> Dirk and Rose: Behold.
- - - - + + + +

ROSE:

DIRK:

@@ -479,7 +479,7 @@

ROSE: Dirk.

DIRK: Rose.

- +

ROSE: Game on.

diff --git a/chapter5.html b/chapter5.html index c845968..42fa0d2 100644 --- a/chapter5.html +++ b/chapter5.html @@ -14,7 +14,7 @@

CHAPTER 5. YOUR 3Y3S H4V3 B33N CLOS3D

- +

The dissonant hum of struggling mechanics fills Terezi's ears as she sits, cross-legged, on the floor of the now-ruined engine room. She likes it here. The soft whitenoise ringing of the extensive ventilation network sounds, if she closes her nose just right, like the rustle of wind through the leaves of a treehive universes away.

The warm thrumming of machines at work is accompanied by blinking lights that taste like rainbow sprinkles as they flicker, but Terezi isn’t distracted from the main object of her focus — the unconscious body of Rose Lalonde, bathed in dim light, chest rising and falling in an artificially-induced slumber.

Wires and tubes run up from her plinth to the ceiling of the chamber, keeping her alive, yes, but too much just for that purpose. Something about the tangle of intravenous tubing and fiber optic cable makes Terezi think of the old stories about the Ψiioniic. Her train of thought is interrupted by metallic footfalls, and the screeching sound of a broken airlock door sliding open.

@@ -213,7 +213,7 @@

Fine. Be that way. I'll just get a head start on my species, then. It's only the fate of a new planet on which the weight of saving the universe lies. If voiding the warranty on a complex piece of machinery is more important to you than all of that, go ahead.

I've got better things to do.

- +

> CHAPTER 6. A Conversation Regarding Relevance

diff --git a/chapter6.html b/chapter6.html index b8c6f5a..fcaf283 100644 --- a/chapter6.html +++ b/chapter6.html @@ -14,18 +14,18 @@

CHAPTER 6. A Conversation Regarding Relevance

- +

space is vast.

an unproductive statement, almost a tautology. and although tautologies can be worthy thought exercises, they become virtually meaningless when it comes down to the actual transmission of information. i believe it is for that reason most beings don’t use them in day to day parlance. the lives of the many are far too volatile and instinct-driven to want to waste time with saying that which is already true.

tautologies are, in general, reserved for stories. for narrative device. for finding new and inventive ways to tell an audience that which they already know. and at the end of the day, are not all diffusions of knowledge at least somewhat tautologist in nature? in order to recognize the value of my words, you must first know what they mean. you must predict my intentions.

but i digress.

arguments with my brother would often dissolve into such nonsense. the shouting of truths back at each other, neither of us ever able to convince the other of the righteousness of our stance. we were never meant to agree. it isn’t in our blood.

space is vast. everyone knows it, but most sentient beings in their many universes never have any way or reason to experience it first hand. even in societies advanced enough for space flight, most people will never leave their atmosphere. when they scoff at my tautology ‘space is vast’, what do they really know? nothing. as far as any of them have experienced, space does not exist.

- +

very few have stood and looked into the abyss, the true gulf of nothingness that spreads out around the single point of consciousness adrift in a constellation. all the combined weight of sentient endeavour would quail underneath that sheer, irresistible truth. the realization that they are so small, that the universe cares about their puny lives so very little. sitting in the glowing light of the stars this becomes even more apparent

...

are we out of orange juice?

- +

JADE: are you talking to me?

JADE: because if you are i would like to remind you that i hate!! orange juice!!

@@ -65,7 +65,7 @@

JADE: well i had to watch my boyfriend and my brother die in front of me on a tiny scaled version of a world that i shrunk for them!

JADE: and then spend the next three years talking to myself, wracked with guilt that id killed them!

- +

i remind the witch that my time was in the void, which is far darker and lonelier than a ship full of lizards. i add that it was also eons, a length of time that is, traditionally, far longer than three years. i ask her to excuse my pettiness in pointing it out.

JADE: youre a member of a species designed for long periods of isolation

@@ -85,14 +85,14 @@

JADE: ugh, this is so annoying, i cant tell if youre being serious

JADE: your voice is impossible to read and i cant see your face

- +

JADE: oh

JADE: well thanks

JADE: thats better

of course.

- +

JADE: youre right that i am being silly, and i didnt mean to start a slap fight over who has suffered more

JADE: clearly you have been through a lot more than i could ever possibly imagine

@@ -130,9 +130,9 @@

JADE: heheh

JADE: i have never been particularly tamable, and my consciousness is huge!

- - - + + +

JADE: you are a pretty tough crowd, evil callie

JADE: but yes, i can hear most of what you are thinking to yourself

@@ -155,7 +155,7 @@

JADE: um...no i dont!

she does. after all, she would not wish this sort of state of being on anyone else, and especially not on one of her friends. jade may have undergone a lopsided number of narrative hardships in her life, but at least she is used to them. why spread that suffering to another? jade understands and accepts her place in the story, which has always been to enable events to play out around her, just as it has been mine.

- +

because what is a story, truly? nothing but a series of misadventures and connections, actions spurring reactions, tumbling into one another, over and over and over. with so many competing interests, clearly the story cannot account for all perspectives, for all threads? it would be laughable, childish, even selfish, to demand that they do.

in other words, not everyone will achieve a happy ending. this is a truth that jade had come to grips with a long time ago.

@@ -178,7 +178,7 @@

you are, to an extent.

she is. but the truth of the matter remains that humans are capricious and emotional. and even jade herself can admit that she hasn’t been the most...committed example of her species in the last few years.

- +

JADE: ...what is that supposed to mean?

@@ -196,9 +196,9 @@

she points off into the darkness. it’s nothing, of course. there is nothing here besides the two of us. this space is utterly under my control. jade could control it too, if she had any access to her own powers. but with my grip around her cortex, there is no chance of that.

i know there is nothing behind me. she is being silly. but i’m not dirk strider. i don’t mind indulging the whims of silly girls, if it makes them feel better about their situations. there is nothing wrong with humoring.

- - - + + +

and here i make my first mistake.

up until this point, i have counted on my superior narrative power and class strength to keep her under control, but bringing her into a place where we can both physically manifest has left me, foolishly, vulnerable. when you are dealing with an epically powerful space player and former borderline omnipotent being, you forget that even with her powers stripped, she is still quite a formidable physical force. a young woman in the prime of her life, with a canine’s instincts and the fierce desire to sink her teeth into something she can tear apart.

and right now that something happens to be me.

@@ -207,12 +207,12 @@

JADE: who!

JADE: are you talking to!

- - - - + + + +

during the ship’s trip through space, there have been numerous experiments; modifications to the nutrition output of the various machines designed to create sustenance for the various species on board. i myself have been content with orange juice and synthetic proteins, but dave and roxy have both expressed longing for various ‘earth snacks’, and so the trials and errors began.

- +

the results were mixed. as roxy told us in a previous chapter, alchemized food all sort of tastes the same, although the visuals really help to bring about the flavor. and at the end of the day, isn’t it the journey that is more important than the destination? the stories you tell as you create the strangely flavored nutritional paste?

JADE: ????????????

@@ -230,10 +230,10 @@

JADE: shouldnt you have run some sort of psychic physical before you possessed it?

JADE: its definitely what i would have done!

- +

jade must know that i am well-aware of her family-wide peanut allergy. a story thread that has been extremely important and weighed in on in multiple parts of the narrative. how could i have forgotten such a key detail?

but of course jade knows that. she is just being silly and dramatic. she knows that a suicide threat is utterly meaningless when made by a god. there is nothing remotely just or heroic about dying from self-imposed anaphylactic shock in the throes of a childish tantrum. at the most i’ll get a relaxing few minutes of sleep.

- +

JADE: do you really want to risk it?

@@ -260,9 +260,9 @@ [S] ==>
(View on homestuck2.com) - +

i don’t let the witch manipulate me. i refuse to falter in the face of her whispers. without my careful planning and swift action, the prince would have taken full control over this timeline. none of my friends could even begin to imagine the turmoil.

- +

JADE: they arent your friends!!

JADE: you took them from me!

@@ -273,7 +273,7 @@

JADE: you said that being a space player is all about sacrifice

JADE: well

- +

JADE: bet

@@ -282,11 +282,11 @@

 

 

 

- +

 

 

 

- +

> CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet

diff --git a/chapter7.html b/chapter7.html index 8125785..ea8f305 100644 --- a/chapter7.html +++ b/chapter7.html @@ -14,8 +14,8 @@

CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet

- - + +

The mood at the scene of the crime is mixed. All three of them would label the main emotion as “extreme tension,” but that is a concept that means vastly different things to each of them.

Vriska, thriving on it, has not felt so decadently alive in a very long time. Tavros has never in his tragic existence felt so close to death, which is surprising to him.

Vrissy is trying her best not to grapple with any cosmic truths at the moment, since she’s getting a phone call in the middle of hiding for her life.

@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@

VRISKA: As much as I’m loving watching your m8sprit attempt to squirm out of any responsi8ility for his dum8shit actions, we should pro8a8ly get to the getaway part of this 8ackwards heist.

VRISKA: Does he have a real plan this time or are we just gonna try our own luck?

- +

HARRY ANDERSON: where even are you? this audio sucks shit, it sounded like you were...i couldn’t hear you right.

VRISSY: We’re in the janitor’s closet near what you always tell me is the Good Water Fountain, 8ut we can’t stay here.

@@ -57,7 +57,7 @@

VRISSY: >::::[

HARRY ANDERSON: christ, what a shitshow.

- +

They stand up and brush themselves off. There’s no time to waste, but there’s one final element they’ve not worked out.

Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.

If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.

@@ -73,12 +73,12 @@

VRISKA: Yeah. Fuck it. I’m done dealing with him.

VRISKA: Finally.

- +

VRISKA: 8ye 8itch.

 

- +

Trolls are made for the battlefield.

From the moment a troll oozes out of the mother grub’s pulsating sphincter, through the trials of the brooding caverns, across the brutal day to day slog of Alternian society, all the way to their Ordeals, to the sucking void of space. They are bred for nothing but endless war.

But Commander Vantas...Commander Vantas is different.

@@ -87,7 +87,7 @@

But he didn’t die. He is, despite everything, one of the only Alternia-born trolls left standing. From the humblest of beginnings, he has risen to the highest echelons of achievement.

Or so all the pamphlets say.

The actual Commander Vantas has blisters on his heel and has been taking pot-shots at scouting drones for the last six hours. He could use a bath, honestly.

- +

MEENAH: yo nubs is that u

MEENAH: pretty rank

@@ -163,7 +163,7 @@

MEENAH: well we woulda taken credit for it anyway so this saves us the time

MEENAH: thanks jane owe u one

- +

KARKAT: SHIT.

KARKAT: THE TIDE OF PUBLIC OPINION IS DEFINITELY TURNING AGAINST JANE.

@@ -182,18 +182,18 @@

KARKAT: NOW?

KARKAT: NOW WE PIVOT FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS.

- +

KARKAT: I NEED TO TALK TO EGBERT.

 

- +

Harry Anderson has rushed home faster than ever before in his high school career. It doesn’t occur to him once along the way that he could have provided a less ostentatious getaway car for his friends.

It’s no matter. They’ll make it. He won’t allow himself to internalize any other option.

He is too busy with these mental gymnastics to notice his father’s car parked outside.

- +

John, Roxy, and Harry Anderson proceed to have the tail end of a conversation they had before, in another medium.

- +

The three fugitives arrive, and, at Vrissy’s direction, park in the back. Unsure if it’s safe to go inside, they hide in the landscaping and text their contact. Vrissy is no stranger to sneaking in and out of Harry Anderson’s window, but the stakes are quite a bit higher, now.

VRISSY: Are we good to go? Your mom’s Car is in the driveway.

@@ -207,8 +207,8 @@

HARRY ANDERSON: but no worries, i asked my mom to pick me up some snacks so she’ll leave to go to the store in a sec.

HARRY ANDERSON: just sneak in after she leaves and hide in my room, and i’ll be back in a bit.

- - + +

VRISKA: Ok, she’s gone.

VRISKA: I’ll take out the side window with this rock, clim8 in, and then let you two in the 8ack door.

@@ -226,13 +226,13 @@ (Room:)
> (Room: Examine yourself.)
- +

A bedroom stands empty. There is no boy standing in this bedroom, or indeed anyone else. However, if the boy whose bedroom it was were here, one might remark that his name was HARRY ANDERSON.

And FUCK, one might say, does he like MUSICAL THEATER.

He has been in his fair share of school plays, but he has LOFTY ASPIRATIONS to STAR in bigger and better productions. He especially appreciates modern MUSICAL REMAKES of classic OLD EARTH MOVIES. It's a craze that not everyone is happy about, but in the absent boy they have found a DEVOTED FAN. There is also just enough overlap between his taste and his father’s to allow for SOMEWHAT STILTED CONVERSATIONAL BONDING from time to time.

The boy who is not yet here has also been known to dabble in ACCESSORIZATION. He could be described as a COBBLER ASPIRANT, a NEOPHYTE MILLINER, or even a BIT OF A WHIZZ WITH A NEEDLE AND THREAD. His mother got him his first SEWING MACHINE when he was 10, to keep him from using hers all the time. His looks are HAND-CRAFTED, often IMITATED, but never DUPLICATED. His COSTUMES appear in various AMATEUR PRODUCTIONS, the devising of which takes up most of his FREE TIME. His friends are usually LESS APPRECIATIVE of his attempts to dress them up than he would like, though.

While it is full of these important details and more, the room still stands empty. But very soon it will remain un-stood in no longer.

- +

Getting there is uneventful. There are no barking dogs, no traps, no lurking observers. The thrill of success is short, and it isn’t long until they’re wading agonizingly through the slow thickness of time.

They have nothing to do but wait.

@@ -242,7 +242,7 @@

TAVROS: So I haven’t seen anything,,

VRISSY: Eat your heart out, Tav.

- +

TAVROS: Wow,,

TAVROS: That’s quite a lot of attention,,,

@@ -254,7 +254,7 @@

VRISSY: May8e if we all survive this, I’ll look them up and see if they need new models.

TAVROS: That’s the spirit,

- +

VRISKA: How long is this going to take?

VRISKA: I know John is all depressed and long winded now 8ut surely he should have dropped his precious 8oy 8ack home 8y now.

@@ -266,8 +266,8 @@

They stare each other down. Did she mean the fugitive situation, or Harry Anderson’s fashion choices? Vrissy feels silly wondering this, but despite the situation they’re in, she can’t help but feel more acutely anxious about Vriska’s presence.

She likes her life, and she trusts her own choices. But now, looking at everything from Vriska’s vantage point, it all feels silly. Unimportant. Childish.

She can’t tell if she wants Vriska to rip in to Harry Anderson or if she wants her to stay silent. To put off the moment where she has to defend him or join in.

- - + +

Luckily, Harry Anderson opens the door and puts off any fraught decision making for the moment. He kisses Vrissy’s temple and she leans in to the warmth of him.

HARRY ANDERSON: aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.

@@ -286,7 +286,7 @@

VRISKA: Yeah. Are we all here and acqua8nted now? Gr8. What’s next?

 

- +

John Egbert has not had a day like this in a very long time. He can barely keep track of this series of epiphanies he’s having. He stretches out on his couch to relax and process the gifts of advice and connection his friends and family and ex-family have just given him.

He is in the middle of wondering if it’s even possible to reach further depths of insight when his phone rings.

@@ -307,7 +307,7 @@

JOHN: well yeah, actually.

KARKAT: JOHN I’M BEGGING YOU TO TURN IT ON. ANY FUCKING CHANNEL WILL DO.

- +

John takes it in silently. The slain clown, the teen fugitives, the self-righteous political spin. God, the photo. The photo of his son’s friends, actual goddamn Vriska Serket, and the very clearly dead Gamzee, doused in a cascade of tepid public school fire sprinkler water, the flash from the alarms illuminating them in a holy fluorescence. It’s the stupidest, the most dangerous, and the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

The absurd joy of it bubbles up his chest and out his mouth in the most genuine fit of laughter John has felt in years. And now that he’s started it, he can’t stop.

@@ -322,7 +322,7 @@

KARKAT: MORE HINGES ON THIS THAN JUST THE LIVES OF THESE TEENAGERS, WHICH SHOULD BE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO TAKE SERIOUSLY, BUT APPARENTLY NOT.

KARKAT: JOHN, THIS IS A LINCHPIN MOMENT FOR THE ENTIRE SYSTEM. THIS COULD BE HOW WE LOSE, JOHN.

- +

John wheezes himself into relative calm. He has to get Karkat to understand. He clears his throat and breathes.

JOHN: karkat, this can be how we win.

diff --git a/chapter8.html b/chapter8.html index a519564..b4eb944 100644 --- a/chapter8.html +++ b/chapter8.html @@ -15,12 +15,12 @@

CHAPTER 8. A Daughter Astray

- +

JANE: Assassinations, open warfare, so-called "revolution," and where has everyone gone?

JANE: They've ABANDONED me. They've taken our precious son. And now...

- +

JANE: Good gravy... Even my former BFFsie's home has become a pit of vipers.

JANE: Oh, Jake. Are you the only loyal one left? :'B

@@ -56,7 +56,7 @@
> (Kids: Converse.)
- +
@@ -293,7 +293,7 @@ (Harry:)
> (Harry: Pick up.)
- +

DO YOU LAND ON YOUR FEET ARE YOU TENSE WHEN YOU SENSE THERE'S A STORM IN THE AIR

HARRY: ok everyone, my dad's calling.

@@ -362,7 +362,7 @@

TAVROS: (Um,,,)

HARRY: couldn't resist.

- +

JOHN: can you see out of the window?

HARRY: yeah, i'm looking right now. the place is heaving with reporters.

@@ -395,10 +395,10 @@ (==>)
> (High above the clouds...)
- +

Two commanders stand on the bridge of a rebel ship. The Maryam-Lalondes are characters of legend, beheld not in awe but in fascination, and this place of command is for them like a stage. All around them bubbles the hustle and bustle of an army on the boil, a hundred ready hands dashing to and fro with the frantic busywork of battle. In amongst the confusion, they occupy a solitary vacuum, an oasis of calm amid the storm. As the world seethes with the acid sting of war, they have stood steadfast and resolute; when hope has seemed at its most distant, they have shone as a beacon of possibility.

Individually, they each represent immeasurable gains for the rebel faction. The rebellion's stratagems have never had a fiercer bite; their uniforms have never looked so fucking sharp. But it is together, united, that their true strength is made apparent. Their bond, a union of love between troll and human, is not only a foundation for the rebel cause, but an integral symbol of its purpose. And now, deep in enemy territory, in this moment of intolerable anguish and suspense, these two symbols stand firm. Unshakeable, immovable. Nay, even unflappable.

- +

Well, almost.

KANAYA: Try Calling Her Again!

@@ -442,22 +442,22 @@

KANAYA: The Other Vriska Is Also Here!!!

ALFONZ: MA'AMS I HAVE AN URGENT REPORT TO DELIVER, PLEASE FORGIVE MY YELLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- +

ALFONZ: the reconnAissAnce teAm is bAck eArly, mA'Ams

ALFONZ: the ship docked A few moments Ago

ROSE: And the scouting party???

ALFONZ: i expect she's Zipping her wAy up here now, mA'Am

- +

ALFONZ: should be here Any minute n

- +

ALFONZ: oof!

- +

ROSE: Jade!

KANAYA: Oh Thank God

@@ -481,11 +481,11 @@

ROSE: You don't mean...

JADE: theyve taken her

- +

JADE: THEYVE TAKEN YIFFY!!!!!!! D:

- +

 

 

 

@@ -493,9 +493,9 @@ (Jade and Rose:)
> (Jade and Rose: Explain everything.)
- +

Okay. While Jade and Rose are busy relieving that moment of intolerable anguish and suspense, let's check back in with the kids for a moment. Planning their escape is going about as well as you might expect.

- +

TAVROS: We appear to be,,, in no uncertain terms,,, completely surrounded,

TAVROS: I don't wish to come across as pessimistic,,, but,

@@ -564,7 +564,7 @@

HARRY: :O

VRISSY: :O

- +

VRISKA: I feel like I'm going fucking insane.

VRISKA: Is it weepy wiggler tantrum hour, or are the three of you always this pathetic????????

@@ -617,7 +617,7 @@ (Harry:)
> (Harry: Go gra8 a weapon.)
- +

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

 

@@ -683,7 +683,7 @@ (Harry:)
> (Harry: Examine sewing table.)
- +

TG: ok, there's a bunch of sharp things here.

AG: Pity You aren't one of them! Lol.

@@ -708,15 +708,15 @@ (Harry:)
> (Harry: Acquire scissors.)
- +

You CAPTCHALOGUE your trusty pair of SEWING SCISSORS. You've brought many a colorful character to life with these babies. You're pretty sure you could bring just as many to death with them as well.

- - + +
" (Harry:)
> (Harry: Select "SCISSORKIND".)
- +

TG: ok, there we go.

AG: I Knew All Along That You Had It In You.

@@ -746,7 +746,7 @@ (Everyone:)
> (Everyone: Congreg8.)
- +

HARRY: ok, i think i'm as ready as i'm ever going to be.

HARRY: which isn't really saying very much.

@@ -787,7 +787,7 @@

VRISSY: *Excuse Me*????????

VRISKA: L8r 8itches.

- +

HARRY: oh my god?

TAVROS: T, There she goes,,,

@@ -796,7 +796,7 @@

VRISSY: I'm coming too!!!!!!!!

HARRY: oh fucking christ.

- +

REPORTER 1: ...join live from a neighbourhood in the Carapacian Kingdom, where the perpetrators have finally decided to show their faces...

REPORTER 2: ...are alleged to have killed the beloved salvational figure Gamzee Makara, may his boots jingle forever in paradise...

@@ -854,18 +854,18 @@

VRISKA: ****FUUUUUUUUCKING****

VRISKA: ********SERK8T********

- +

VRISKA: AND SHE!!!!!!!!

- +

VRISKA: HAS *HAD*!!!!!!!!

- +
- +

VRISKA: Enough.

@@ -873,8 +873,8 @@ (Vriska:)
> (Vriska: Snap.)
- - + +

A whole bunch of things start happening at once. Here are just a few of them:

In the blink of an eye, Vriska is airborne. She has evidently, and by her own admission, had enough. She reaches out with incredible speed and grabs the microphone that was brandished at her a moment before. In one smooth motion, she helicopters it around her head by the cord and sends it hurtling into the face of the witless journalist whose needling questions had been so, SO irrit8ting. He sprawls in the driveway, two rivulets of red starting to spring from his expertly broken nose.

@@ -924,13 +924,13 @@

 

 

 

- +

 

- +

 

- +

 

- +

JOHN: you made it!

JOHN: i knew you had it in you.

@@ -1040,10 +1040,10 @@

TAVROS: (I can see them,,, over there,,,)

VRISSY: Uuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh.

- - - - + + + +

JOHN: hey guys!

JOHN: ahhh, rose it's so good to see you.

@@ -1087,7 +1087,7 @@

JOHN: ...

JOHN: kanaya?

- +

KANAYA: Do Not Mind Me John

KANAYA: I Am Simply Making Quite Sure That My Daughter Over Here Is Alright And Not Causing Any More Trouble Than I Am Certain She Already Has

@@ -1113,7 +1113,7 @@

JOHN: right?

JADE: john

- +

JADE: theres something i need to tell you

diff --git a/chapter9.html b/chapter9.html index 81e0b91..0f83b0f 100644 --- a/chapter9.html +++ b/chapter9.html @@ -14,12 +14,12 @@

CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

- +

JANE: (Where is he?)

JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

- +

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?)

JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?)

@@ -27,7 +27,7 @@

JANE: (The...)

JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

- +

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.)

JANE: (What else?)

@@ -48,8 +48,8 @@

JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

- - + +

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

JANE: In a word: awfully.

@@ -88,14 +88,14 @@

JANE: You mean the prisoner.

JAKE: Y...es.

- +

JANE: Well, go on then.

JANE: She's over in the corner.

JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite.

JANE: I've seen to that already.

- +

JAKE: Here you are.

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry.

@@ -106,7 +106,7 @@

JAKE: Well,

JAKE: Bon appetit.

- +

DIRK: Bon appetit.

DIRK: Seriously dude?

@@ -132,40 +132,40 @@

JAKE: Good night.

 

- +

JANE: ...

- +

JANE: !!!

- +

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

- +

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR...

JANE: Oh no you don't.

- - + +

YIFFY: GRRR *BZZT* RRRR *BZZT* AAAA *BZZT* AAAA *BZZT* AAAA *BZZT* AAAA *BZZT* AAWW *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT* OOOO *BZZT*

JANE: Are you done?

- +

YIFFY: ...

JANE: That's more like it.

- +
- +

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam.

JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake.

@@ -177,16 +177,16 @@

JANE: Out cold.

JANE: Maybe I should reduce the voltage a trifle.

- +

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

- +

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear.

JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

- +

JANE: Night night.

JANE: Hoo hoo.

@@ -196,7 +196,7 @@
> (Yiffy: Lights out.)
- +

 

 

diff --git a/intro.html b/intro.html index 4992710..053ecba 100644 --- a/intro.html +++ b/intro.html @@ -14,12 +14,12 @@

Somewhere, in the distant reaches of space...

- - - - - - + + + + + +

Surprise, bitch.

I bet there was a moment just now when you thought to yourself, oh thank god. Thank the maker. Thank literally what-the-hell-ever recalcitrant entity was, is now, or perhaps always has been responsible for piloting this story. Whoever it is whose cataclysmic fingers hang suspended and quivering with anticipation somewhere beyond the curtain of the world; whose hunched form lurks forever in the shadows, its work seemingly unimpeded by the very real threat of a chronic lumbago; making no sound, giving no speech to thought, save for that fateful moment where first one elongated phalanx, and then another, crosses the threshold between thought and reality; when ten declamatory digits, possessed for the moment of a zealous frenzy, reach down and set the air astir with the heart-rending creative cacophony of an overly rambunctious mechanical keyboard.

Whichever accursed species of demiurgic figure that is, you thought, let's just thank the ever living fuck that this time they decided to call it a night and get out the drawing tablet instead.

@@ -57,7 +57,7 @@

ROSEBOT: No, but I do.

ROSEBOT: It averages out, you see.

- +

DIRK: Ok but like what are you actually calling me about.

ROSEBOT: I just thought you might like to know that we're getting pretty close to your chosen crash site.

@@ -95,7 +95,7 @@

DIRK: There's a few stray dust motes still left to eradicate.

ROSEBOT: Just don't get too attached to having everything organized neatly, will you.

- +

Rose signs off the call without much fuss. She knows that I'm not really cleaning, but doesn't care enough to know what I'm actually doing. I know that she knows this, but I don't care enough that she knows, nor do I care that she doesn't give a shit. We're all just here, not giving a flying fuck, like a normal, functioning group of people.

I walk— oh no, right, I don't have to do that explicitly. It's easy to get into the habit of just narrating everything, even when it's a bit creatively redundant. This is where the advantage of visuals comes in, to make my life as an omniscient overseer a little bit less tedious. I can just do whatever, and we can all see it happen, and nobody has to fight with a testy cherub lady for control of their own legs or anything. No need to pull a whole thesaurus out of my ass just so I can go to the bathroom. Seriously, it's a big relief.

That doesn't mean this (*gestures to the narrative*) isn't still going to be a thing, though. Sometimes retreating back into the warm, welcoming folds of traditional prose is just going to be the best way forward, and as someone whose mind is uniquely capable of understanding this conceit, I'll be the determining factor as to when and where it happens. I think that's more than reasonable. And yes, I am capable of being reasonable. All in all I think you'll find, as far as narrators go, I'm an excellent... hm. On second thought, maybe that's a bit of a problematic phrase. Yeah, yikes, that one's got a sordid history. Best we steer clear of it. We're all lucky I'm around to make those kinds of sensitivity judgements on everyone's behalf.

@@ -106,19 +106,19 @@ Dirk:
> Dirk: Commune.
- - + +

Channelling my full potential as an ascended player of Heart, I expand my consciousness to commune with the boundless force of collective willpower that is the internet. My mind floods with its divine potency, a million formless cries coalescing into a sequence of discrete, formal instructions. It is a maelstrom as chaotic as it is deafening. And yet from this formless, uninterrupted spate of hard, unembellished data, a single suggestion takes form, as if bubbling up from a vast, infinite ocean of possibility. It is a whispered prayer to a compassionate god whose ear attends faithfully the will of his believers.

Ok, let's see what you chucklefucks came up with.

- - - + + +
Dirk:
> Dirk: Stop making Homestuck.
- - + +

I...

You know what? You've convinced me. There's no way I'm fucking with this shit.

I'm nobody's puppet, of course. But this was going to be a little fun we had together. A callback to simpler times. I just wanted to play a game, and you were going to be part of it. That submission box was my olive branch, dipped tentatively and at arms length into the trash furnace of creative potential known as 'Online'.

@@ -127,7 +127,7 @@ Dirk:

> Dirk: Examine room.
- +

See? That wasn't difficult. Seriously, what's wrong with you people.

This is my PRIVATE STUDY on board the THESEUS, a LIGHTSPEED CAPABLE VESSEL built for tearing around the cosmos like there's no tomorrow. This is where I keep all of my PRIZED ARTIFACTS, CANONICAL KEEPSAKES, and other assorted OBJECTS OF HISTORICAL AND/OR ARTISTIC PERTINENCE. Some of these items were really hard to come by, requiring very creative use of my full faculty as an ascended Heart player. The rest was just stolen from my friends' houses when they weren't looking. It's nothing they'll miss, though. I also keep my FLORA OF THE SUCCULENT PERSUASION in here, so's I can keep an eye on them. Make sure nobody's eating any. It's happened before.

This is where I come when I want to sit and think about important plot details, which is pretty much any time I'm not training or laying down mad enfilades of philosophical shit with Rose. It's important to have things around to remind me of where we came from.

@@ -138,7 +138,7 @@ Dirk:
> Contemplate equine icongraphy.
- +

Beautiful, isn't it? A piece of this quality deserves nothing less than the pride of place in my private collection. Am I being sincere about that? Who the fuck can even say.

A parting gift from an old flame, it was given to one of my splinters in a distant timeline before ending up in my posession via lots of complicated shit that I don't wanna get into. This painting used to belong to one of the most powerful men in Earth's history, and now it belongs to one of the few people ever to hold him in the palm of their hand.

It came with a note, which has since been misplaced. But I know the words by heart.

@@ -147,10 +147,10 @@ Dirk:
> Paint. Paper. Get to work.
- +

Nah. This is FACE PAINT, not for painting pictures. Unless those pictures happen to be on a face, I guess.

This set of paints and the charred remains of my HORNED HEADBAND are the only surviving relics of the first and last WORLDWIDE INTERSPECIES ROLEPLAYING SESSION we ever attempted on Earth C.

- +

Calliope got it into their head that dressing up in cosplay would be a fun community activity. Vantas had some very uncharitable things to say about the idea, and for once in his life I think he was right. This thing was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish. A complete bloodbath.

I'd spent months perfecting my character. Countless late nights were devoted to scrupulously studying the intricacies of OLD ALTERNIAN CULTURE. EVERY INCH of my body was coated in cloying, meticulously sealed GRAY PAINT. Yes, even there. I know you were thinking it.

It was the perfect trollsona. I was a highblood called...

@@ -159,14 +159,14 @@ Dirk:
> Inspect delicious houseplants.
- +

Three years is no small amount of time. While I spent a lot of it in pursuit of a greater understanding of combat and philosophy, that doesn't mean there wasn't room for life and love in the equation too.

Plants are basically the ideal friends. They don't constantly question your decisions, or try and undermine your authority, or suggest that perhaps you should try talking about your feelings every once in a while. Plants lie down in the dirt and take it, metaphorically speaking.

I've genetically enhanced these succulents to make them more hardy in a low-gravity environment. They all got drastically discolored as a side-effect, but frankly they look better like this.

The downside is that I'm not the only person who's taken a liking to them. And speaking of which... "Delicious houseplants"?

...

Oh god damn it.

- +

TEREZI: NY3H3H3...

TEREZI: H3H3H3H3H3....

@@ -259,11 +259,11 @@

TEREZI: >:]

DIRK: Wait.

- +

DIRK: Computer. Enhance.

- +

DIRK: Mother fucker.

TEREZI: NY3H3H3H3H3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@@ -295,7 +295,7 @@ Terezi wrote:
> L1B3R4T3 L4LOND14N L1BR4RY
- +

DIRK: That one was a bit alliterative, but I think you're getting the hang of it.

DIRK: You want me to pick up this book, right?

@@ -317,7 +317,7 @@

TEREZI: "R3M3MB3R LONGC4T J4N3?"

TEREZI: COMPL3T3LY 1NCOMPR3H3NS1BL3

- +

DIRK: (I captchalogue the book into my MSPA MODUS. Forget HASH MAPS, PICTIONARY, or any of that shit. This thing is where it's at.)

TEREZI: 4W WH4T TH3 H3LL

@@ -330,7 +330,7 @@ Terezi wrote:
> SCR34M L1K3 4 W1GGL3R 4ND T1DY YOUR D3SK
- +

DIRK: Well, if you insist.

TEREZI: 4UURGHHH D1RK YOUR3 NOT M4K1NG TH1S 4NY FUN 4T 4LL

@@ -352,7 +352,7 @@

TEREZI: 1F SO, 1T M1GHT JUST B3 TH3 F1RST FUNNY TH1NG TH4TS 3V3R H4PP3N3D TO YOU!!!

DIRK: Ha ha.

- +

DIRK: You know,

DIRK: I actually kind of resent the idea that I don't know how to loosen up or have fun.

@@ -360,8 +360,8 @@

DIRK: It's just that the kind of fun I'm naturally predisposed to is rather intense.

DIRK: Not many really understand that when pleasure is taken seriously enough, it can easily mimic the appearance of business, just as when irony is practiced with enough passion, it becomes indistinguishable from sincerity.

- - + +

TEREZI: DO YOU... W4NT TO T4LK 4BOUT 1T...?

DIRK: Absolutely the fuck not.

@@ -372,8 +372,8 @@

DIRK: It's something a bit more important than that.

DIRK: We've made some good progress by now, so here. Let me show you something.

- - + +

DIRK: Smell this Terezi?

DIRK: This is a panel.

@@ -499,9 +499,9 @@ Dirk:
> Dirk: Get this show on the road.
- - - + + +

ROSEBOT: Tidying all finished?

DIRK: In a manner of speaking.

@@ -574,7 +574,7 @@

But that struggle finally ended a few years ago. My head isn't fighting to stay above the water anymore. There isn't even a metaphorical head to speak of. I'm only the water now.

It's proven to be an immensely comforting way for me to exist. It reminds me of the feelings I had during long nights alone, looking out over the dark ocean which surrounded me. The ocean that effectively raised me, because nothing else was around to do it. During those lonely nights I spent many hours wondering what would happen, what would even be the difference, if I jumped in and never came up. If I simply disappeared.

But now I finally have. I've disappeared into the infinity of myself. And I am... magnificent.

- +

DIRK: What's that noise I'm hearing.

DIRK: It sounds a little bit like a cat being caught in a ventilation fan. A sort of...

@@ -598,7 +598,7 @@

DIRK: ...

DIRK: How do you feel about games?

- +

> CHAPTER 1. Ghostflusters

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