Doomed To Dream - Part 28
Waiting is always the hardest part. For most of his life Sollux had realized that. When he was young he hated waiting for his guardian to come back from trips into town for food. When he started learning about computers he hated waiting for his code to compile. Once he was working with Cyclos on movies he kept waiting for a lot of things: script completion, actor casting, shooting, editing, that moment when all of it would seem valuable and worth it and maybe something like fate. The list went on and on, and little of it could compare to the here and now of sitting at his desk, head pillowed on his arms, staring at his monitor and waiting for something, anything that would tell him what was happening.
Which, when he thought about it, was kind of pointless. From what Vriska had told him—for once a complete, unabridged version of everything she'd experienced with the hierarchists—she wouldn't have even been with Veruna for long by now. At best he'd have to wait another ten ho
A Handful of Diamonds - Part Two
The door slams shut before Karkat can even haul his fucking ass off the couch, leaving him to wonder just what the fuck was going on here. Why would Dave call him over and then close the door on whoever had been there? Was it possible that Dave had just been too annoyed by whatever asshole had been at the door to put up with them anymore? That kind of narrowed down the possibilities of who it could be. Kankri, of course, could prompt that kind of reaction easily enough, but Dave had already insisted that it was most pointedly not Kankri. There was Cronus, no one could really stand that douchebag, except for Kankri for reasons that Karkat couldn't even begin to fathom. There were also times when Porrim got herself into a real fit and no one ever wanted in the path of that, especially Karkat. Porrim just had a need to mother things, and he decidedly preferred it when she focused such attentions on Kankri. More than once Karkat had found himself thankful that his instance of Maryam was re
Doomed To Dream - Part 27
The plan—Sollux refused to think of it in any more concrete of a way—was nearing completion. The target was selected, a rather sizable culling charity was holding a public auction that was close enough to a major healthtender hive so that the injuries could be dealt with. The only question that remained was how to attack and then how to get that plan into place. Even those were only a matter of time to work out. They had several approaches, and just had to narrow it to the most likely to work. He was running some pretty serious calculations with Tygres and Sapire to figure out just which have the right balance of maximum chaos to minimum loss of life, and soon enough they would have something.
But Vriska... Every time they spoke he could see how it was destroying her. The shadows under her eyes were growing nightly, to the point where he was certain that her matesprit had to have noticed. Not that Vriska would mention it. She was breaking, every night she was breaking even
Doomed To Dream - Part 26
Whatever it was Vriska was about to tell him, it was deadly serious. Sollux had set up the ability for them to video chat very carefully and had forbidden Vriska to even suggest it unless the situation was dire. She had used it in ways he'd thought was frivolous once or twice, but more than anything Vriska had taken the responsibility of the tool rather seriously. So to have her show up on Trollian and tersely told him they needed to talk before signing off, well, it meant that things were serious beyond reason.
That didn't mean he was willing to just throw away his whole evening on faith, though. Even as he set his system set up for the conversation he hadn't bothered locking his block door, or even turning off the work he was doing. Instead he had turned down his speakers, set up his webcam, and leaned back in his seat to wait for the connection.
“Veruna wants me to plan her coming out party. The more deaths, the better.”
“She wants you to what?” he found hims
Eden's Chosen - Part One
He felt like floating. His body was weightless in the darkness, cradled in a cushion of clouds. Clouds that both buoyed and restrained him, a cradle that left him floating yet kept him from moving. It was a sensation both pleasant and upsetting at once. It made it feel like the whole world was passing around him in the dark, and the restraint upon him was maddening. The oddest thing, though, was how familiar it felt to be held like this. There was warmth to the clouds, and as he tried to push towards that warm, a sound cut through the darkness.
“Save it for later.”
The voice, the words, the snark that was inherent in it all was thick with Seifer Almasy, and that realization made his eyes shoot open. A, no the, big mistake of the da. No sooner did he try to open his eyes than he was faced with a painful, mind piercing light that made him shout in pain and throw an arm—an arm that screamed in pain from the motion—over his eyes. Seifer, of course, chuckled at the m
Eden's Chosen - Prologue
Everyone has one great story in them. Okay, so maybe not, but it is what I've repeated heard throughout my life. Everyone has one great story that they create. Or maybe that they live. It can span minutes, hours, or years, and it's never a solitary journey. One person's story mingles with another, caught up in the greater story we know as life itself. We all have our places in the story, weaving in and out. All of us are the main characters in our own stories, but when woven into the larger whole we may be a side character or a member of a mob, or of no consequence at all.
Most of my life I felt like I was in that last group. I was born, my parents died, I was adopted, and I lived quietly in Winhill with my mother in what amounts to obscurity. I was Nida Nomura, fated to live and die in a small town, maybe making my life growing flowers or something. Things were simple, and at night I dreamed of flying, soaring high above the world. In those dreams I was strong, I was important. I was
A Handful of Diamonds - Part One
By all rights, he was a god.
He had created this pathetic universe with his very thoughts. He had built the universe up through conversation, constructed the very building blocks of the star system in which he stood, and was by every single manner of reckoning the source of all beings—intelligent and otherwise—in the entirety of the cosmos. There was nothing in this universe that he was not the master of, the creator of, the vengeful and loathing god of. Yet, for reasons he could hardly fathom, he stood here in the middle of the mess that was his livingblock and as much as he glared and cursed, the mess did not tidy itself up. How dare it consider, for even a moment, to sit there under his baleful gaze and have not even the least of the tipped plastic cups throw itself into the trash?
“Man, if you think that staring at this is going to get it anywhere near cleaned up, we better get one of your troll therapists in here to check out your head,” an utterly amused,
Doomed To Dream - Part 25
technicallyUninspired [TU] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]
TU: i know i'm not supposed to cont^ct you without something useful or stuff like th^t but we've got ^ bit of ^ problem
TA: what kiind of problem?
TU: you've got to underst^nd th^t i don't do this lightly
TU: especi^lly since i'm on ^n unsecured termin^l
TA: woah waiit youre on an un2ecured termiinal? what the fuck are you thiinkiing douchebag? or ii2 nothiing goiing on iin your pan?
TU: this is ^ very highly seriously serious situ^tion
TU: the heiress's consort z^hh^k ^rrived ^nd w^s dem^nding inform^tion on some troll c^lled t^vris or something ^nd then he went storming out of here shouting ^bout vrisk^ h^ving ^ knife on him
TA: 2hiit 2he2 got no 2en2e of dii2cretiion doe2 2he never miind that ju2t get back two work iill deal wiith all thii2
TU: wh^t should i do in the me^ntime?
TA: go back two your work and keep your ear2 open
TA: iill handle everythiing from here or at lea2t everythiing ii can
TA: and keep watchiing bec
A Handful of Diamonds - Prologue
The cosmos is a vast, almost unknowable place. How it came to be is unknown, how it will end is equally so. Unless, of course, you were one of the thirty-two special youths who knew far more than they'd ever be willing to share with outsiders. They would not admit that they had once stood together, both those with the sparks of life in their eyes and those whose eyes were long since glazed over in death. They stood together on a platform emblazoned with a spirograph, before a structure much like a house that seemed made of chintzy plastic in a garish shade of crimson that made almost all of them flinch to connect with someone they had known. Together they had stood, refusing to reach for the ethereal doorknob in which another spirograph swirled, and they spoke. Spoke and plotted and schemed. Together thirty-two souls spoke of something they had never seen and barely dared to dream of in the face of the troubles they had overcome.
They spoke of the limitless beauty of the cosmos, of the