Part 8: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/54499.html

Dark room and Panic

 

[The original title was Panic! In the Dark Room]

 

Darkness was unusual.

 

[Not really, it happens every night.]

 

Darkness was the enemy.

 

[Try casting magic missle at it.]

 

Darkness was a power outage.

[Or not. Darkness has many causes.]

 

Tom rose from his bed, experimenting with first closing then opening his eyes,

 

[“Oh, so that how those things work!”]

 

but the darkness was total. He elected to keep his eyelids closed for the moment, feeling out with his hands.

 

[Why is he keeping his eyes close? Wouldn’t it be better if he kept them open to let them adjust?]

 

 He began running his hands over the bedspread he had just risen from,

 

[“he had just risen from” is redundant.]

 

 feeling the thick blanket he had apparently kicked off himself during what was intended to be a brief nap.

 

The texture of the blanket's undersheet was interesting, a kind of large-holed woven cotton deal.

 

[Dealy-thingy whats-it.]

 

Tom didn't normally sleep on his bed, which was odd,

 

[Odd him being in his bed or odd him never using his bed?]

 

 as was the over-fluffiness of the pillows, something that his couch sorely lacked and Tom's neck was never the best off in that trade off.

 

[And he can’t just take the pillows and put them on the couch.]

 

The power was still out. The bed was inviting.

 

[So he went back to sleep. The end.]

 

Tom explored the room, walking slowly away from the bed until his outstretched hands reached a wall, or more accurately a wall-mounted screen of some kind.

 

[Exploring? Has he never been in his bedroom?]

 

One hand still toyed with the texture of the cotton.

 

[By the way he’s dragging his bedsheets with him.]

 

The screen didn't seem too worse for wear with his interruption, so he began exploring the inside of the pillowcase.

 

[A pillowcase is much more interesting than a screen that might provide light.]

 

The edge of the screen was dusty, so he preoccupied himself with cleaning it as he moved along the edge of the room. It wasn't the first screen along the room's perimeter, nor was it the dustiest. The heavy blanket didn't seem to have any way to access the inner feathered doona.

 

[Is doona some Australian word? For what we call a comforter?]

 

Ten dusty off-angled screens, three more pillows and an intricately cut lunar landscape in the bed's headboard later Tom finally found a wall switch, hidden between the misaligned edges of three different screens. He flicked the light on, causing the screens to light up

 

[So all this time he just need to find the light switch.]

 

 - a large wall of screens, far more than the twelve his hands counted, stretched high to the edge of vision, where rectangles of light merged into a blurry blue haze.

 

Tom looked down slowly, something drawing his eyes to his hands. Blanket. Pillow. Pillow. Undersheet. Pillow. Pillow. Dust, and lots of it.

 

[How many pillows does this guy have?]

 

His eyes travelled up his arms, to his chest - a purple tee-shirt with two short sleeves only. Tom turned away from his various pursuits, dropping the items, and looking up.

Seven Toms screamed at each other.

 

[Tom Cruise, Tom Wolfe, Tom Landry, Tom Paine, Tom Bombadil, Tom of Tom and Jerry, and this little pervert]

 

Tom fell off his couch, cracking his head against his desk as he stood up in the filtered sunlight.

 

[So he dreams about sleeping in his own bedroom.]

 

He cursed and rubbed his sore temple, sitting down in front of his workstation. He glanced over his left screen, a maze of almost imperceptible moving pixels, several thousand live feeds from various hidden cameras Tom had developed and deployed across the city, and a hundred highlight reels including three edited loops of sex: public, hotel, and club bathrooms.

 

[Ewww. That is so wrong. Tom is my least favorite character.]

 

Tom yawned as he glanced over his CD collection - a large number of strategy games both real time and turn-based -

 

[I would have thought his favorite genre would be hentai visual novels.]

 

then his eyes drifted over the plush trophy from his first strategy game, when he placed third in a fourth grade teacher-organised competition.

 

[Do schools in Australia usually host video game tournaments?]

 

He squeezed his Tanglea plushie to comfort himself from his nightmare, as he switched on the TV.

 

[Not much of a nightmare as one of those annoying dreams where you can’t see things right because you aren’t actually using your eyes.]

 

Cho's news report was just starting, and Tom kept one eye on the television. Scott's voice over the airwaves reminded him to check his right screen, closer to the television set - four larger spy quadrants, keeping tabs on four of his friends.

 

[He even spies on his friends?]

 

He never particularly bothered with bugging Cho, after seeing her reactions at Scott's boat party to being filmed - she kept stealing unnerving glances to his cameras, her smiling face to his secretive breach of privacy almost ruining the whole point of spying.

 

[Stupid friends not fulfilling all his fetishes.]

 

Today, however, he was able to spy on Cho by proxy - a permanent 'smudge' on Scott's current headset was actually one of Tom's bugs, currently giving him a server's eye view on Cho.

 

[I don’t see how that works.]

 

As Tom watched the footage in duplicate, he pestered Scott over a shared chat program for a link to the torrent. Scott's quiet keyboard presses in return helped his friend out, and Tom watched Scott send the links to the ABC IT crew over email. Shortly before Scott dropped Cho's camera for the last time, he was checking the studio's website for updates - Cho's picture was front and centre, showing off her report and marked as extremely important.

 

[But since Cho was clothed and looking at the camera he ignored the website.]

 

Tom's eyes widened as he saw just what happened to Cho's camera, but other viewers didn't have his web of connectivity - or any web connection at all.

 

Nancy was currently soundly panicking, only having the TV to comfort her.

 

[I’d panic too if I was stuck with Tom.]

 

The view had quickly cut back to the studio itself, as the anchors explained that they still had Cho on the phone, but had lost her video feed. "In the meantime," said the male of the pair, "please visit the ABC website to download the two programs showcased - our IT professionals here at the ABC studio will be following Scott's lead and acting as your server connections."

 

[“We promise you won’t die when the game malfunctions.”]

 

 A poorly timed commercial break drew Dolly's eyes from the television.

 

Nancy was cursing, kicking her hard-calloused feet against her kickboxing set in her living room's gym.

 

[She tried doing this in her kitchen’s gym but it didn’t work out.]

 

"Dolly, I'm fucked. We're fucked."

 

[About time. How long have you had that sexdoll?] 

 

She kicked harder and harder. "Did you hear what Cho was implying about meteors?

 

[She really didn’t imply much.]

 

This is important and I'm screwed and I haven't got an internet connection and I'm going to die and I can't be saved and I'm fucked."

 

[Get over it, I live without the internet every day.]

 

Dolly moved behind Nancy and began rubbing her owner's shoulders. "Shh, it's okay. Cho's got us covered." She kissed Nancy's neck, directly on the patch of bare skin that mirrored her barcode's location. "Look in the green folder." She advised.

 

[“It has the script rewrites.”]

 

Nancy brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, then hugged Dolly thankfully. "If you're sure." She murmured into Dolly's barcode,

 

[Weird place to put a listening device.]

 

 clutching the folder in her hand.

 

She extracted herself from Dolly's grasp and glanced through it, finding two CDs stamped with the logo she last saw acting as Scott's cursor; a small dial-up USB modem; a note with account and connection details; and a large piece of cardstock written in dark brown with 'You'll know when you need these'.

Nancy delegated Dolly to the setting up of the internet connection and installation of the discs, while she returned to the TV

 

[Million dollar sexdoll and she uses it for minimum wage IT work.]

 

 - Cho was back on frame, but the picture was somewhat better. "As I was saying, I knew I still had a camera around here somewhere." Her feed now had a rolling tickertape down the bottom of the screen, reading 'visit our website to contact a server'.

 

"So if you check through the incoming connections you should see a new studio camera connection- oh, we're live again?" She flashed a smile at the viewers. "It's kind of hard to tell."

 

[“Probably shouldn’t have taking that rip off my bong.”]

Part 7 Here

White cardstock, Perforated lawnring

 

Cho kicked her deck chairs to the edge of the patio, gesturing to the invisible eye of the Server connection. "Go ahead, let's give the viewers a comparison in sizes."

 

[And we’re back from commericals!]

 

Cho filmed her empty back garden as Scott began to drop the various machines from the game's store into it.

 

[Why are they filming this at her house anyway?]

 

The well-maintained grass ruffled peacefully, before being crushed by first the bookcase-sized sewing machine/laser cutting station hybrid, barely ruffled by the barbecue sized typewriter station with its two small feet, and completely smothered by the large platform with a scanner on its side.

 

 

[Redneck lawns OF THE FUTURE!]

 

"Scott, be careful!" Cho winced as he dropped the 'emergency hatch' directly onto her card table she had set up, driving the plastic legs directly into the soft soil beneath, the weight enough to even embed it partway into the thick bedrock beneath.

 

Cho swerved the camera around to frame her face. "Please take note, server players - these items are very heavy." She retrieved her phone from indoors, and relayed Scott's advice. "And apparently the controls are very loose, so practice with other items... preferably inexpensive things, and not video cameras connecting to your local studio." She winked to the audience, then traded Scott's cursor the last free item - an inventory card covered in premade holes - for her lifeline to the studio. "Keep it near my shoulder in case you drop it again." She warned her friend.

 

Word came through Cho's earpiece that a commercial break was needed, so she took Scott's cursor for a walk to her office, grabbing some cardstock roughly the same thickness as the inventory cards, a pencil and a high tech calculator. She sketched the holes in the pre-punched card onto one of the spare sheets, then began trying to map out the location of the holes with what she could see of the card itself.

 

A series of yellow curves, familiar and on the edge of memory, covered just enough by the holes to obscure its meaning. On the back of the card, an eye-hurting internet captcha code, eight digits long.

 

[God I hate captcha code.]

 

Conferring with Scott, the two of them began to nut out the relation between holes and code - and to the machinery that had already been deployed.

 

"So what's the actual name of the things, while we're off air?"

 

[“We’re back on air.” “Aww, fucking shit!”]

 

"Punch Designix is the one with the keyboard."

 

"Obviously related to the holes, and the code."

 

"Yup. Cruxtruder's the one on your table."

 

"Yeah, thanks for that. Sounds like it might extrude... something."

 

[Actually, it intrudes on cruxs.]

 

Cho looked over the capped cylindrical device through her office window with a frown. "With the valve?"

 

"Try it out on cam later. The platform's called an Alchemitizer."

 

"That's an awful name.

 

[I think it’s one of the better names.]

 

Something to do with alchemy, creating something from nothing?"

 

[No, alchemy is creating something from something not as cool.]

                                                

"Maybe. And then you've got the Totem Lathe." Scott brainstormed as Cho wandered back outside. 

The reporter toyed with the lever and valves - the lever dropping a sharp series of blades pointing down at the cylindrical pressure plates, which two valves extended towards each other, and the last rotated both plates simultaneously. "Looks like something that cuts into a tube-shaped totem. The symbol on the plates is the same as on the alchemy platform." Cho noted. "And the alchemy plate is the only one without the company brand on it."

 

[The Betty Crocker symbol?]

 

Scott buzzed in through the speakerphone. "Can you test something with the cards? Try entering eight ones on one card, then eight question marks on another." Cho trimmed two pieces of cardstock to the size of the inventory cards and shoved them into the receiving slot on the desk-mounted typewriting machine. She smacked the typewriter around until it spat out the practice cards, the ones card having two strips of holes, contrasting the question card with 10 strips.

 

"Alright, that confirms it..." Scott walked Cho through the eight digit code he had figured out, the cardstock being punched in the same pattern as the pre-punched card.

 

"Nice one, love."

 

[“Shhhhh not in public!”]

 

Cho touched her ear for a moment. "We're coming back on now."

 

Scott steered the camera for Cho once again as she showed off the pre-punched card to the viewers.

 

 

[Where are the numbers and clues for this crossword puzzle?]

 

She then stood in front of the table and explained how the machine's name had 'extrude' in it, before turning the valve. The spirograph-branded cap strained from something pushing against it from beneath, but held tight.

 

Cho pulled her old microphone out of her inventory and lazily swung it around in a large circle. "Well, it looks like a bit of percussive maintenance is in order." She sped up her spinning and bounced the heavy microphone onto the stuck cap, which popped off with a blinding flash of yellow light.

[Literally blinding. I hope Cho and Scott have synesthesia.] 

 

Cho shielded her eyes for a moment, before glancing at something out of frame from the studio feed - a pulsating yellow light was dancing across her skin. Scott dutifully kept the source of the light off camera. "Well, warning to our viewers - if you have epilepsy, shield your eyes from the sparkling ball that comes out of the extruder."

 

[Again, Dr. Ruth Levaitt is denied the chance to save the world.]

 

She spun the valve on the machine now that it was free, and tall crystalline cylinders began rising through the open hole, tumbling out and onto the ground from Cho's over-excited spin.

 

She picked one up and showed it off for the camera, as well as the discarded Cruxtruder cap. "If I were to hazard a guess, this is the totem mentioned in the name of the laser-cutting machine - the Totem Lathe." She showed the inside of the cap, which was once again stamped with the triangular variant of the spirograph pattern. "Match the symbols."

 

As Cho began to walk to the lathe, Scott panned the camera to the rectangular displays on the base of the table-bound machine. There was a calming cyan timer, counting down from 01:05:43:52 one second at a time.

 

[We can assume it is one second at a time.]

 

When Scott resumed his tailing of Cho, his finger slipped once again, dropping the camera onto the soft grass. The studio got a few seconds of a fuzzy patch of synthetic grass while Scott's cursor chased against the seizure-ball of game mechanics to reach the camera. The footage of the grass was replaced by first another bright flash of white, then pure darkness.

[Huh, weird way to end the fic but if...

 

Oh, it’s not over.]

Part 9 : http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/54739.html

Part 6 here

Finally time for Part 7!

Fallen empire, tattered web

 

[A great name for a Feferi/Vriska fic]

 

Scott swerved his houseboat around a large swell of water, listening to the news on a loud satellite television down in the living room.

 

[Turn it off if you’re not going to be in the room, you slob!]

 

He had just over an hour to get into position.

 

[He’s doing some really intense yoga.]

 

Scott let a wave carry his home into a far calmer patch of sea, the wind and waves simply dying out in a 2 nautical mile diameter area around Scott's target.

 

[I didn’t know you could ride a wave into a calm patch of sea, but I don’t know how long a nautical mile is either.]

 

He killed the engine and dropped anchor, glancing at his tested and true method of finding important objects

 

[Wow, what cool piece of technology are we going to see...]

 

 - a map of the area pinned to a corkboard, with darts sticking out of it.

 

[Oh.]

 

The news downstairs reached the weather. "The meteor strike that destroyed most of Washington DC has left in its wake a devastating heat wave.

 

[“On top of the previous devastating heat wave.”]

 

Reports from Canada and Mexico both collaborate a marked increase in heat, which could be reaching our shores as soon as tomorrow afternoon."

 

[Canada: Eh, sore-y to bother yah but we think there might be a wave of devastating aboot to hit yah? So keep an eye out for that?

And I’m not going to try for Mexico.]

 

Scott frowned and looked out at the building storm outside his personal dead zone. He ran a hand through his hair as he reread Cho's last email - she needed his help for a report and would be calling him soon, and she wanted Scott to download a game in the meantime.

 

[Ughh, Cho, not Farmville!]

 

His internet connection was always choppy at best out on the ocean, but in the dead zone the lack of cloud cover helped him access a satellite connection that was already pumping the lifeblood of data into his computer.

 

[And the arteries of his monitor pumped the lifeblood of data out of his computer onto his organs of sight.]

 

As the news pottered along for the next hour,

 

[A-ha, Potter! Now that we know from earlier scenes that Scott dresses up like Harry in sex videos, this scene will make perfect sense!]

 

Scott got his satellite phone hooked up to a speaker system he had recently purchased and wired through the boat, pinning a small microphone to the larger fake one of the helmet he was wearing.

 

[Why does he have a fake microphone on his helmet?]

 

He was also wearing a ruffled orange tunic over a teal long sleeved shirt and black bike shorts, with a fairly comfortable belt covered in satchels - not that Scott used them for much more than storing loose change.

 

[Orange and teal? Is he a Naruto character?]

 

Fifteen minutes before the end of the current show, the phone rang. It was Cho. "Hey Scott, how's it all looking on your end?"

 

"It's all downloaded." Scott hovered his mouse over the completed files, a pair of executables called SBURB_SERVER and SBURB_CLIENT. "Did you want me to get started when you begin broadcasting or should we familiarise ourselves with 'em first, find out if it's a hoax or not?"

 

[“Fuck sound  journalistic preparation, let’s roll with it!”]

 

Cho's crackly voice beamed down through the satellite above. "No, Scott, I want the studio to see me learn as I go.

 

[“We want to be surprised when the adult content pops up.”]

 

[Actually, Homestuck would make a very good “light-hearted hentai visual novel that turns out very depressing”]

 

You can practice, just leave me out of it."

 

[“...and secretly give me hints so I don’t look like a newb.”]

 

Scott sighed into the speaker phone. "Yeah, alright." He ran the server program, but was greeted with a black screen with white text reading 'waiting for client'. "No dice, Cho. No tutorial mode here. Gimme a shout when you're ready."

 

[I’d like to see what the tutorial mode of SBURB would look like.]

 

"Mm-hmm." Cho mumbled into the phone clasped between cheek and shoulder. She was busy setting up the tripod stand for her camera. "I'll run it in a tick, just gotta field a call from the studio." Across the room, her mobile phone paused momentarily, annoyed that its owner had pre-empted the shrill reminder its speaker was preparing.

 

[So the cell phone texted her ex-boyfriend asking for a booty call.]

 

Cho swooped up the phone and answered it halfway through the first ring. "We're ready to go, Jim, just make sure the censorship delay focuses on swearing and not politics."

 

[What if she curses out the Prime Minister? What will they do then?]

 

In the studio, the desk-bound news presenter read the teleprompter in front of him with a warm, five hundred dollar smile.

 

[American or Australian dollars?]

 

"Our first report tonight comes from station favourite Cho Chase-Smith, here to tell us about what the decimated internet thinks of the recent media blackout from the US. Cho?"

 

[I didn’t know that Americans constituted ten percent of the internet.] 

 

Cho smiled warmly at her ex-channel-nine camera as it switched on,

 

[She got to keep the camera?]

 

showing the green-eyed reporter and her edge-of-the-city apartment, with various trophies from Cho's active sports diet peppering the walls.

 

[Powerbar and Gatorade mail-in swag.]

 

"Good afternoon, Chad. Since the recent destruction of Washington DC from an apparently targeted meteor strike on the White House,

 

[Targeted? Isn’t that awfully paranoid?]

 

there have been thousands of wild theories running rampant across the internet."

                          

[“Obama’s real birth certificate was on that meteor!”]

 

Cho's laptop sat ready on the kitchen counter behind her, a flowing skyscape (designed to hide the installation process of the SBURB_CLIENT file) danced and warbled its way into the camera's point of view, trying to distract from the conspiracy theories Cho was reading with a slight mocking tone to her melodious voice.

 

"Many of these theories rely on the footage of the US Secretary of State enacting an order apparently from the pen of the Presendient, written from his sickbed. The order was to shut down all internet services."

 

[“But since only the President can do that, the order was ignored and Mr. Presendient taken to the hospital.”]

 

Cho grinned. "Naturally, there was opposition to such an inexplicable order, and several US internet service providers are partially operational."

 

Cho retrieved her laptop. "The prevalant theory

 

[“prevalent”]

 

 from surviving US citizens is that this program I am currently running, and its corresponding server file, were the reason behind the internet kill order, and behind the destruction of DC."

 

[Everyone was so busy playing this game they didn’t see a meteor coming.]

 

 The file reached 100%, and brought the computer to a simple command line prompt. "I have my good friend Scott acting as my Server today."

 

[Do we really need to see your D/s session?]

 

The screen read 'a SBURB host user is attempting to connect with you. Press ENTER when ready.' Cho tapped the button, then glanced over her screen. It seemed to not need any more input from the client, so Cho put her laptop back on the desk. "What are you seeing over there, Scott?"

 

Scott cleared his throat, then his voice crackled over the speakerphone. "Well, I can see you. Turn, ah... 63 degrees to your left and then about two and a half meters off the ground."

 

[“...and you’ll see the bong you left out on the table.”]

 

Cho picked up the camera and pointed it at the exact location of Scott's viewscreen, despite his obtuse directions.

 

"If you can see me, Scott, what am I doing with my left hand?"

 

[“Sorry, your hand’s been blurred out.” “Stupid TV censorship!”]

 

Out of frame of the viewing audience, Scott viewed the isometric version of Cho's living room. "Three fingers up, one out." He played around with the other menus as Cho mounted the camera back on its tripod. Cho then ducked as a boxy green missile flew overhead.

 

[Anti-piracy missiles!]

 

"Oh, you can see the cursor?"

 

 

[Psiidom: For reference, this is what a camera and a SBURB cursor look like.]

 

Cho flipped Scott the bird out of frame of the film crew, then left the room for a moment. Scott responded by picking up the lifeline to the ABC studio and slowly manuevering it through his friend's hallway.

 

[“manoeuvring” (in the Commonwealth, that is. We Americans prefer less vowels)] 

 

The camera caught a mirror in frame, the formerly green house-shaped cursor now yellow while holding the camera aloft. Cho stood behind the camera and waved her hands around it, demonstrating its hovering to her audience.

 

"So, now that we have your attention with the reality altering technology,

 

[I wonder how amazing a real-life cursor is in a world with video game inventories.]

 

 let me explain a little about the game, since this is a rare viewer participation segment.

 

[Don’t, Cho, the viewers will just ask you to retrieve your arms or bleat like a goat.] 

 

I've asked my colleauges at the studio to run copies of the server program, and they will be available to assist viewers while I prepare a video guide."

 

[So everyone is going to be Cho’s server? That sounds ripe for abuse.]

 

 Cho caught the descending camera just before it hit the ground.

 

"Sorry, Cho, I was looking through the available items. We've got a big platform about the size of a table, a bookcase-sized laser cutter covered in valves, a floor-mounted emergency hatch with a lid on the top, a desk mounted keyboard with a slit in it, and uh...

 

[“...no tea.”]

 

a 'pre-punched' inventory card."

 

[Pre-punched in their naughty parts.]

 

Cho nodded, and walked the camera over to her patio. "Sounds like priority one is freeing up some room." She kicked her deck chairs to the edge of the patio, gesturing to the invisible eye of the Server connection. "Go ahead, let's give the viewers a comparison in sizes."

 

[“This is how big your house would be if you had my talent.”]

Part 8 here

Part 5: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53646.html

 

Late night, Gold eyes

"Last gift. Gold wrapping paper, someone's got your number." Dolly said, handing over the loosely wrapped pile of boxes to Nancy.

[Urghh, this isn’t TV!]

"Very funny, Dolly. It's from Phil, he always does things with a gold theme." She showed Dolly the name on her birthday card - Phillip Marigold.

Dolly read through the factory-written words on the card as Nancy ripped into the wrapping paper, pulling out numerous DVD box sets of her favourite cartoons. Get Backers, Lupin the Third, Detective Conan, and more all hid within the scraps of golden paper.

[“It’s animé, Mom, and it’s a legitimate artform.”]

She walked into the living room, checking out the smile on both her face and Dolly's in the numerous mirrors along the sunny hallway. Her doppelganger was practicing Nancy's stride, and made note of the grand show Nancy made of bending down to place the DVDs and retrieve the remote control from underneath her large wall-sized television.

[“Wow, you’d think someone as rich as her could buy better toilet paper.”]

Nancy laid down on the couch and beckoned Dolly to sit with her back between her owner's legs, brushing the synthetic hair while waiting for Cho's report to air. "Phil started up an anime club when we met back in college, he really wanted me to feel like I fit in."

[Fit in by geeking out.]

2004, Phillip's first day in an optional class for his business degree. Only one other student was in this class, a girl whose lack of makeup and relative ease in the small classroom drawing his attention.

[Plus she was naked.]

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

[“I am so high.”]

From Nancy's point of view, the first thing she noticed about Phil was how big his hands were as he pulled a chair out next to her on the table.

[They were swollen from bee bites.]

A buttoned up dress shirt complimented his rather full beard of blonde,

[How do you get a beard of girls and how does a dress shirt compliment them?]

and she took his hand and shook it as she scoped out his golden eyes.

[He loves anime so much he got anime eyes.]

"I know they're a bit weird but you don't have to stare so much." Phil said self-consciously as Nancy faded out of the difficult task of half remembered dreams.

[“Nancy faded out of the difficult task of half remembered dreams”? What does that mean?]

"Sorry about that, they just seemed so... familiar." She admitted. "Maybe we knew each other as kids?"

[“Or maybe I saw your face on the post office wall?”]

Nancy properly introduced herself, then the pair got down to the task of taking notes for the course.

A few weeks later, the pair were having lunch in Nancy's dorm room - she'd lucked out and gotten a room to herself.

                                                   

[She BROUGHT the whole dorm.]

"So am I right in thinking I heard you watching Evangelion last night?"

[Ahh, the author is an Evangelion fan. That explains why Geoff looks like Kaoru, but not why the author doesn’t know that only teenagers can save the world.]

"Phil, how the hell could you have heard that? Your dorm is on the first floor."

[Maybe this is an Australian thing but I thought dorms were buildings, not floors.]

Phil shook the window's key, ensuring that it could open no further. "I was grabbing a smoke,

[I’m guessing not tobacco.]

 these rooms are too tiny. Anyway, I brought some DVDs up." Phil gestured to his bag, abandoned by the doorway when he first entered.

2012.  "Turns out Phil knew Dom, and he invited her around to my room a couple nights a week to keep me company, when we weren't busy trading DVDs back and forth." Nancy brushed a stray lock away from Dolly's eyes, staring overhead at her double's pretty face.

[At this point I’d prefer creepy clone sex to hearing about her “wild” college experience.]

"We dragged the whole group into a borrowed classroom overnight once, Phil and I were the only ones watching the shows while everyone else either slept or played card games."

[I wish I could sleep through this.]

2005, hour 19 of the Great Anime Marathon.

[If they start riffing the movies this sporking will get very meta.]

Dom had pinned Phil in a bear hug, even as she slept in their shared sleeping bag. Nancy sat a few rows away, keeping a whispered dialogue with Phil about the flashing animation on screen.

[“Why are all those blue-haired girls turning everyone into orange liquid?”]

At the rear of the spacious and dark classroom, Scott, Tom and Cho were busy with a game of strip poker.

[I should think the strip poker is exciting, but it won’t be.]

A few hours later, the boys had returned Cho's clothes to her ("She always was awful at poker." Nancy explained to Dolly.)

[See?]

after Nancy shushed the scampering trio for getting in the way of the projector. They were now dutifully sitting and watching Nancy's favourite anime detectives, and falling asleep doing so.

[We’re watching people fall asleep while watching movies.]

 Phil's commentary had slowed down and we sounding more uncomfortable as he went,

[Maybe he shouldn’t have put on “Legend of Overfiend”.]

Dom's open eyes watching the room's four other occupants as she barely moved.

[She died of boredom.]

3 AM. When Dom ordered Phil to put on Ranma 1/2, her voice barely left her throat, let alone the sleeping bag she was sharing with him, but her lover withdrew himself from the warm confines of her arms to go turn down the heavy metal outro of the latest movie nonetheless.

[Good. “Heavy Metal” is overrated.]

Scott's sleepy mumbling of "I'm a cat." when the main character was entering a new martial arts ultimate move caused for a round of giggles from Nancy and Phil, and when another character was cursed to turn into one with a splash of water, Scott's repetition caused for a burst of laughter from the duo.

[So we are watching them riff the movies. Arggghhh.]

2012. Nancy smiled, caressing Dolly's cheek. "Phil and I keep up over the 'net all the time, much more than the others. I should ask him what he did with the Ranma One Half set, if he was going for nostalgia with all those."

[You called it Ranma ½ before.]

The television in the background switched from an in-channel advertisement for tonight's movie into the news. "Our first report tonight comes from station favourite Cho Chase-Smith, here to tell us about what the decimated internet thinks of the recent media blackout from the US." Nancy sat up, taking Dolly's hand as she watched the report.

[Whoa, plot! We get to see what the deal with the USA is!]

---

Part 7

Part 4: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53294.html

Discrete box, Public servant

 

Nancy sat her store-bought lover down onto the bed and began to unwrap the penultimate gift in the pile - an unassuming rectangular box wrapped tightly in grey butchers' paper, several layers of the cheap material.

 

[I’d say “wrapped tightly in several layers of grey butchers’ paper.]

 

"Trust Dominique to cheap out on the wrapping." Nancy commented dryly to her million-dollar sex toy,

 

[“She should have used gold sheet like I always do.”]

 

the sun slowly descending into the verdant hills surrounding the mansion, all signed under Nancy's name.

 

[She signed her name on all the hills?]

 

"Oh?" Asked Dolly, practising her mimicry of her owner by replicating the way she sat on the bed during the previous tales of her friends.

 

"Poor dear's always been a bit quiet about her actual job, I think she might work retail or something."

 

[Not retail!]

 

Nancy's nose wrinkled with her words. Dolly's mimicry of that gesture was hardly appreciated, the woman roughly pressing the wrapped box into Dolly's chest.

 

[“How dare you mimic my bitchiness!”]

 

"She'd been unemployed for a couple of years, living off her girlfriend's back, but when I was inviting her out for coffee - and trust me, it's a pain to have to get dressed and head to the city - she had the nerve to have gotten a job just days prior!"

 

[“She got that job just to spite me!”]

 

2003, summer.

 

[But what was the exact date and time and lunar phrase?]

 

The weather was bright and the sunlight warm. Dominique had only just begun growing out her fauxhawk, and her dark purple-dyed hair matched her gray eyes well. "Yeah, I really enjoy it, I get to wear what I like." She explained, tousling the short locks with a grin, enjoying the contrast to Nancy's complete lack of make up.

 

[Makeup is one word (or a hyphenated word.]

 

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

 

2009, spring.

 

[And six years just pass by.]

 

Her hair was now long and naturally reddish-brown, tied in a long thick braid coming from the end of her brushed-straight fauxhawk.

 

[Hey, that’s not a fauxhawk at all!]

 

Dominique was touching up her lipstick in the bathroom at work, her purse sitting on top of her arm-length leather gloves.

 

Her corset was black silk, long ribbons acting as the lace. Her boots were long and high-heeled, her pale thighs contrasting to her black lingerie. Dominique finished reapplying her lipstick and pulled on her gloves, glancing at the clock.

 

[Good, sex. Something to keep us from falling asleep.]

 

She had two clients to juggle today,  a cute couple she had introduced to each other in a more relaxed setting two months ago. Unfortunately, while they had hit it off well enough to start dating, apparently they had not yet tried each others' bodies out.

 

[Well, body-switching is a big step.]

 

2003.

 

[And we go back to the past.]

 

"... so if you change your mind, I could easily hook you up with an interview for management at the call centre." Nancy said, her position as one of the decision makers in her company making it easy to manipulate various members of human resources.

 

[“Nah, being a hooker’s more dignified”]

 

Dominique shook her head, leaving an impression of her lower lips on her coffee cup. "Nan, I appreciate it, but I really enjoy the new job. 'sides, gives me a chance to play with my locked-in weapon."

 

[She’s a hooker with a gun! Pimps better run!]

 

"Why would you have a weapon at your job? Hell, I don't understand how violent you have to be to even use those stupid inventory or weapon things." Nancy scoffed. "Give me a handbag any day, better than trying to make a video game into real life. I mean, I could understand Scott using one, but you?"

 

[Don’t point out the video-game-ness, it just makes this weird.]

 

"There is such a thing as a handbag inventory style. I've heard it's a bit crap though - everything has a chance of being a used tissue.

 

[You could always psych them out with one.]

 

Anyway, as far as the weapon cards go, it gives you instant aptitude with your chosen weapon." Dominique pulled out her weapon card - a simple leather whip. "I got this when I did some work experience on a ranch, made it easier to herd the cattle."

 

[I think you use a different whip on people than you do on cattle.]

 

2009. Dominique gently tied a blindfold over her brownhaired client's pretty eyes, her leather-covered fingers rubbing over the other woman's pale skin.

 

[“Brown-haired”]

 

Having stripped the other woman nude, Dom let the thin client stew with gentle leather touches - shoulder, side of her hip, back of her neck - before placing noise-cancelling headphones on the shivering sub.

 

[Dom the Dom. Guess that’s clever.]

 

Dom's presence soon abandoned her client, who diligently stood stock still waiting for her mistress to return, shivering more with excitement and nerves than any kind of cold - the hotel room was well heated and the day outside nice, though the only sign of the weather outside was a gentle breeze drifting through the carpeted hallway and through the open door. With no audio or visual stimulation, the librarian was wary of every movement of the floor. Was that vibration because of people walking by and staring inside at the ghostly-pale librarian?

 

[The spell-check says “starring”, Webster’s says “staring”. I like the first. Staring sounds like the people are stars inside her head.]

 

2003. "It's not like you need the weapon cards exclusively for combat, Nancy." Dom needled her friend as she sipped her hot chocalate through a straw.

 

[“Chocolate”.]

 

 "Phillipe's got Quillkind and it gave her a few years' experience as a writer straight off the bat."

 

[Was it a magic quill that wrote for him?]

 

Nancy glanced around the cafe at that. "I thought Phillipe was going to be joining us today?" The relatively small crowd paid Nancy no mind, but she still felt it necessary to fiddle with the large heavy ring tied into the end of her braid, checking the relatively light metal for nonexistant impurities.

 

[“nonexistent”

I’m imagining Nancy naked right now.]

 

"She's running a bit late. I asked her to get a manicure for me." Dominique grinned impishly, seeking more chocolate through the straw. "Going back to my point about inventories - they give a lot more range of carrying stuff than just using a backpack. I can use my Balance modus to take two things at once, and I don't even have to be touching both of them."

 

[If I had a modus I would use it so much.]

 

Nancy followed Dom's pointing finger to an unassuming sugar bowl on the counter of the cafe, both inside and across the room.

 

[I’d assume the counter was inside the cafe.]

 

 In a blink of the eye, a gilded set of scales had appeared, scooped up the sugar bowl, and disappeared.

 

Dominique grinned at her friend, holding out two empty hands. Once Nancy was watching, Dom's inventory flared up with the gilded scale again, delivering the sugar bowl and a discarded single-serve packet of sugar right to their table.

 

[That’s what Terezi had before she got Scratch-&-Sniff.]

 

2009. The librarian was sure she felt her mistress walk past her, but she simply bit her lip and stayed still, hands clenched at her side. The soft tinkling noise of her mistress' modus drew her attention as the headphones disappeared. The not-so-soft voice followed. "You've been very good, so I got you a present."

 

[Christmas in April?]

 

The thick black silk was replaced with golden air and the librarian could once again see. Her mistress wasn't standing in front of her. Her boyfriend was.

 

[She changed sex!]

 

His neck had a collar, his flabby body restrained by a generously working corset, laced with elaborate ribbons. The ribbon also left the confines of the corset, a thicker length of the same material restricting his motions. One of the few areas spared from Dominique's expert bondage skills was the man's cock, fit to bursting from the view of his naked, nervous girlfriend.

 

[“Did you get a gift receipt?”]

 

Dominique lounged on a sofa seat, one leg over the arm and an ungloved hand at the plump woman's nethers. "Now, darlings... make each other happy." Her eyes glinted in the scales' reflected light as she dropped sex toys and whips onto the bed via remote. "And that's an order."

 

[If you need a dom to force you to have sex, maybe you don’t have much chemistry.]

 

2003. Dominique's phone buzzed. "Are you shitting me?" Nancy glanced at her friend inquisitively - it had been several hours, and Phillipe hadn't shown up yet.

 

"She's dumping me. Guess she preferred when I was a slave to her wallet."

 

[Who’s saying what?]

 

Nancy swallowed her distaste. "Let's find a quiet bar?" She suggested, tenatively.

 

[“Tentatively”.]

 

2012.

Dolly was chewing on that last bit of data.

 

[Oh by the way it’s 2012.]

 

"You enjoyed the pub even with all the strangers around?"

 

[“Don’t point out the plot holes, dear.”]

 

Nancy shook her head, having a seat to unwrap the package. "Dom convinced me to buy out the whole place for a private party, actually. Really let me put my hair down."

 

[Oh gets some therapy, you can afford it.]

 

Dolly watched the butcher's paper come off her owner's gift, scooping up the paper to fold it away for later use. Within the folds, Dolly found a note, which she read aloud to her blushing twin.

 

'Dear Nancy, Cho convinced me to get this for you while we were out on the town. Maybe if you're a little more anal you might be a bit happier.

 

[Usually being anal makes you unhappy.]

 

Love from Miss White and Miss Chase-Smith.' "Does Dominique often sign things with her last name?"

 

[The double quotation between those sentences makes it look like another person is saying that.]

 

Nancy nodded, looking over the sex toy that her friends had colluded on - a 'rabbit' dildo, which looked like someone had taken a simplistic phallus and added an alien antennae to the base.

 

[Colluded implies illegal.]

 

 'With free lube!' cried the box.

 

[Yeah, a tube of Crisco.]

 

Dolly took in Nancy's quiet shock and decided to bite down her commentary this time, making note that Cho felt it nessecary to send two gifts.

 

[“necessary”]

 

"Last gift, Nancy. Gold wrapping paper, someone's got your number."

 

[Yes, only one more boring character introduction to go!]

  

Part 6:  http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53907.html

Part 3: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53180.html

 

Silver chest, Time-worn book

Dolly stood with perfect posture in front of her owner, constantly noting how the long-term nudist presented her body language.

[With Nancy as her Posture Pal she was sure to become Posture Queen!]

Nancy began to pace as she inspected the heavy silver jewellery box.

"Scott Woldfree sent this one." Dolly advised.

[That doesn’t sound like advice.]

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. Ever since he bought that boat he's had a string of excellent luck."

[And cue another flashback!]

Sonar arrays, maps of local sea beds, and a dart board all sat near the steering wheel. The helm also featured spiralling stairs leading downwards, becoming the iron centrepiece of the living room.

The tanned homeowner ruffled his black hair nervously, checking the pencilled-on scar on his forehead. The thick cardigan made him uncomfortable in the summer heat, his red and gold school tie worn askew.

But the camera filming through the bedroom door catches the chubby man's wide grin. "Jeez, Scott, already changing? You look good, but I thought you'd make a better Neville." "Oh, shove it Tom."

[So we’re watching them cosplay Harry Potter. Hope this isn’t a sex tape.

New dialogue should start a new line.]

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

[Wasn’t he described as tan?]

20:05 07/12/12

[This tape is coming FROM THE FUTURE!]

The camcorder swept past a magnificent sunset over the Sydney skyline seen through the lounge room's window, the cameraman apparently disinterested in its beauty, nor Cho's as she lounged with practiced grace on the deck. Tom panned over the flat screen TV and passed by a couple holding hands to instead focus on the snack table.

[I’m sure this lazy afternoon deserves recording.]

20:40 07/12/12

The next time the recorder was turned on, Scott held it at arm's length. "Hey Nancy, just saying 'hi' from the boat, I'm going to try and get as much of the catch-up on film as I can." Tom walked out of Scott's room, drying off his hands. "And we've got a surprise for you waiting. It's only a couple days out to sea, I stowed it away on a private buoy. So no spoilers."

[That seems like a terrible place to store something.]

Scott panned the camera to show the retreating skyline, Cho looking out the window. She sat up straighter as the camera panned towards her. "Hey Scott, want to see a trick?" "Sure."

Cho snapped her fingers as a bolt of lightning arced through the night sky, hitting a lightning rod on the top of a skyscraper.

[And finally something interesting happens.]

The cameraman whistled. "How'd you manage that?" "Magic, dear Potter." Cho grinned, leaning over the camera as Scott dipped it down to rest at his hip.

[When did Cho from Harry Potter get here?]

22:32 07/12/12

The room was dim, the five friends now playing with Scott's karaoke machine. A dozen empty beer bottles on the floor around them, a stirring ballad of Rocket Man tempered by the collectively awful voices of the friends.

[And with that revelation, we go back to watching these people hangout.]

Dominique was laying back against Phillip's legs as they both sat on the couch, the latter holding a microphone for both of them.

[Who are they?]

Tom's frantic air piano countered Cho's graceful swaying, and Scott on Cho's other side was grunting out lyrics while searching for the next song to play.

[Grunting out lyrics?]

Cho squeezed Scott's shoulder. "I think the camera's gone and turned itself on again."

[Tom  transmogrified himself into a camera.]

02:47 08/12/12

The camera switched on again. "Truth." Said Tom, lounging back in between an underwear-clad Cho and Phillip, who was wearing Cho's dress.

[That isn’t even a result of a dare.]

"What's your favourite camera you've worked on?" Asked Dominique, busy with dropping empty bottles into a recycling bag.

[Bor-ing!

“Asked” shouldn’t be capitalized.]

"You know I don't like talking about work. Dare." "Kiss Scott."

[And more lack of line breaks.]

Cho glanced over at the camera and gave it a wink, as Tom climbed over her to get to the host.

Cho squeezed Scott's hand as the two men kissed. Once Tom came up for air, Cho piped up. "Penalty for not answering - I dare you to go fix the camera."

[Wait, two dares? And the last one is really lame.]

The camera engineer laughed as he headed for the malfunctioning battery-drainer.

11:28 10/12/12

[This obsessive time and date thing is going to pay off, right?]

The group were all dressed for colder weather, Cho taking up the mantle of camerawoman once again.

[Use “cameraperson” or “camera operator”.]

 Scott was in the water, swimming back from a buoy.

[He going for his swimming badge.]

As he climbed back aboard his boat, he dragged a fishing net to the edge. "Gimme a hand, guys."

The group managed to tug Scott's find from the water - a swelled dark wood barrel.

[Oh, a rotten barrel. How nice.]

"Hi again, Nancy. I'm gonna need some time to clear your gift through customs." Scott said to the camera, gesturing to the barrel.

He creaked open the lid with a crowbar, reaching inside. "I'll show you half the gift now, it'll give you time to be prepared." He held out a papyrus-bound journal, protected from the water by the barrel. On the cover, a set of hieroglyphics.

[The ancient Egyptians didn’t have bound books, just scrolls.

Why would you put a valuable artifact like that in a barrel in the middle of the ocean?]

"You'll probably get this on your birthday, so in the meantime - get yourself a 'learn how to read Ancient Egyptian' book." He waved goodbye to the camera as Cho shut it down.

[“You can learn a dead language in two months, right?”

You could have just had the last scene. The previous scenes were pointless.]

Dolly rubbed her synthetic fingers over the jewellery case and the journal within, as Nancy inspected the other half of the gift - a face mask made of pure gold, almost identical to Nancy and Dolly. Only a few minor details - a scar on the chin, a slightly different shape to the nose - kept it from sitting comfortably on Nancy's face when she experimented with it.

[That mask is really sculpted if a scar can keep it from fitting properly.]

"So did you end up studying the language like he suggested?" Dolly asked, treating the journal delicately.

[“Naw, that would take work.”]

"No, I thought he was kidding. How the hell could this lady look so much like me?"

"Have you never examined your family tree?"

[“Actually, I’m a clone.”]

"No, I was adopted. Oh, there's an idea - what if that's Cleopatra? I could be related to royalty."

[Oh, everyone is related to Cleopatra. Or were her in a past life.]

Dolly took the mask from her owner, placing it and the jewellery box beneath the largest poster on Nancy's wall, the dresser almost a shrine to The Maltese Falcon.

[“Saint Humphrey Bogart, pray for me.”]

"Please continue with the stories, there's only so much time before the broadcast."

[I couldn’t be interested in these stories even if you programmed me to!]

---

Part 5: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53646.html

Part 2: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/52781.html

Cyan package, Dark jewel

 

As Dolly handed Nancy the cyan gift (a long, thin jewelery box), her hands came into Nancy's focus. Her fingertips - relatively smooth, the factory-made 'fingerprints' being a series of perfect circles. "Nice grip."

A smile and a hand lazily brushing up Nancys' front made for a non-verbal agreement. Dolly began busying herself with the task of dressing her owner with her new gift, a silver necklace with a small black gem. "I didn't really think Tom knew me well enough for this, honestly. We travelled in different circles in primary school, then he got expelled around the same time I began the homeschooling."

 

Bright eyes. The not-natural almost-blue of cyan. Decades ago, roving the classroom during a test, far better eyesight than reasonably assumed from a child.

 

[Sudden character exposition. Sentence fragments.]

 

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

 

[Hey, it’s the 17^th Angel!]

 

Peeping came easy to Tom, he had always been frustrated about having things hidden from him.

 

[Damn privacy!]

 

 Comparing his own answers to the students around him was long behind him by the ripe old age of fourteen.

 

[I wonder - how old is everyone? It hasn’t really been said directly but I assumed, like Evangelion, you need to be a teenager to save the world.]

 

So was the simple peek of a dropped pencil and a skirted teacher - deemed suspicious by the time he was 9.

 

[What a little early bloomer.]

 

He had to put the reflection-of-students-in-polished-metal trick aside by the time his 'OCD' defence fell through and people questioned why a non-prankster 11 year old was spending so much time at the back of other childrens' chairs.

 

[I don’t see how the OCD has anything to do with that.]

 

He got two years milage out of strategically placed ball bearings buried into the carpet, before the janitorial staff got a sufficiently obsessive junior member who pried each and every one out.

 

[Okay, help me out, I don’t get what the ball bearings do.]

 

Which led him to his latest, riskiest innovation - the reflection from the glass enclosure of the class pet. The risk? The aquarium is seated at head height.

 

[“The aquarium was”. This all takes place in the past.]

 

Tom had gleefully been using the enclosure to spy on his classmates for roughly three weeks before the incident. Their hidden thigh-flesh was under his purview just as serfs are before their baron, privacy holding no sway over the innate Right that Tom held dear.

 

[Great, first narcissism, then megalomania. This cast isn’t looking very good.]

 

Mary had freshly laundered white panties every day, contrasting with her tomboyish best friend whose own coloured undies never matched her socks and would often be worn two days in a row.

 

[Wait, I didn’t know socks and undies are supposed to match.]

 

Nancys' own lack of underwear, a rebellious innocent act of nudity.

 

[Is it rebellious or innocent? Innocent sounds like she forgets to wear them.]

 

Geoff's angry face in the middle of a test... uh oh.

 

[Geoff isn’t wearing underwear either.]

Shame, humiliation. The words didn't matter - they'd assumed he was cheating (a cursory glance at his classmates' tests showed that Geoff might have been copying from Mary, he didn't have the same detail to the work as she) and had no idea about the peeping.

 

[He’s not a cheat, he’s just an innocent pervert!]

 

The end result, however, was the same. Tom had been branded a target, and was on a short leash with expulsion in the other hand.

 

[Expel the bastard!]

 

It only took three days from the alleged cheating before something blew up - Tom bumped into Geoff in a hallway, and the larger boy loomed over Tom's skinny form. A hand flew to Tom's collar, pinning him in place - the bully had vaccumned the locker door into his inventory, then assigned it as a weapon of choice for the encounter.

 

[“Vacuumed”?]

 

Tom blindly made the same move, his head impacting onto some clunky device inside the now-opened locker and scooping it inventory-wards.

 

Geoff was pushed backwards with a quick shove, and they each readied themselves for Strife - Geoff with a heavy wooden locker DOORKIND deck, Tom with a stolen synthesizer KEYBOARDKIND weaponry.

 

[Man, where did they get the cards for those?]

 

Tom darted in to make the first blow, slamming the flat back of the instrument against Geoff's stomach.

Geoff responded with a heavy uppercut, wood shavings coating Toms' shirt as door met chin.

Keys grasped for a handhold, high and low pitched synthesised goat bleats sounding out as Tom slammed the keyboard onto the top of Geoff's head twice, thrice, blood staining the black plastic.

Tom was found rinsing his own blood out of his mouth by a teacher shortly afterwards, and the second strike of retaliation earnt him a full expulsion from the school.

 

[Where was this teacher when these kids were strifing in the hallway?]

 

Geoff's ambulance trip earned him a new girlfriend and one hell of a scar.

 

[He’s scarred for life, but he got some puppy-love, so it all worked out in the end.]

 

"After that little explosion Tom got some therapy, transferred to a private school and got really interested in electronics and art. It apparently pays well." Nancy absentmindedly fondled her new necklace again, a sense of reflective glory in his apparent success.

 

[And Nancy butts in again.

So what was the point of that story? Doesn’t make me like Tom.]

 

Dolly simply placed the the case aside, standing by to hear about the sender of the silver gift.

---

Part 4:  http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53294.html

 

Part 1: http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/52534.html 

Green folder, Burned CDs

"Alright, let's see." She gestured to the pile of presents. "Alright, my friends, top to bottom. First is Cho."

[This isn’t TV. You don’t need to fade back in.]

"Show?" The doll asked, reaching for a button on her shirt.

[And the porn starts.]

Nancy sat beside her clone and took over the task of undressing her. "Cho. She's a real sweetheart. A bit of a celebrity, actually, she started out behind the camera."

[Or maybe not. Nancy just wants to introduce her clone to nudism.]

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

[Another noseless freak. Okay, it’s not so bad, though that background looks crappy. Makes it look like a Sears portrait.]

Three years ago, miss Chase-Smith was on assignment for Channel Nine:

[Miss Chase-Smith.]

filming her more photogenic, black-haired journalist partner as she investigated yet another stunning example of tabloid reporting.

Naturally, this involved her co-worker shoving a large microphone into the face of a large barrel-chested tattooed man - an 'alleged' ringleader of a biker gang.

[I’m not sure what the scare quotes around “alleged” mean. Is he or isn’t he the ringleader?]

Her colleauge was swiftly knocked to the ground by the biker trio, the spittle-coatedmicrophone clattered on the pavement.

[Collegue.]

Cho had to make a quick choice - film the assault, or assist her injured partner?

[Her partner later died from her injuries. Cho won a Pulitzer.]

Cho has always been a creature of compromise - a toolbelt full of A/V equipment worn over a breezy sundress was always her filming outfit, the bubbly woman never having seen the appeal in jeans.

Cho found a compromise in her new choice, too.

[I don’t really care what she was wearing.]

Hand on the thick audio cable loop on her hip, captchalogued it

[Finally, something Homestuck!]

and the microphone on the ground into her inventory, and from there a quick application to her strife deck - Mickind was her number one weapon now. Charged for battle, Cho then performed the most devisive move in her entire career.

[Decisive.]

She threw the hefty camera on her shoulder into the air.

[Hey! That’s coming out of your pay!]

The camera's gentle curve as it ascended caught the lead biker's look of demented glee as it shifted into a look of confused anger - transformation aided by a heavy microphone smashing into his forehead.

Pulling the mic back in hand, Cho felt the pleasant tingle at the back of her brain telling her the camera overhead was filming down her shirt over her blonde hair.

[Her shirt was over her blonde hair? There are easier ways of saying she has blonde hair. Like showing us a picture of her.]

"Cut that shit out!" She demanded into the mic, and of the advancing bikers.

[Awkward sentence. I would have said, “she demanded into the mic at the advancing bikers.]

"By the third time she'd caught and juggled the camera, she'd managed to peg two of the thugs in the nads."

[Huh? Who’s saying this? When did we get a narrator?]

Nancy neatly folded the somewhat cheap clothes her customised clone had been wearing.

[And we jump to Nancy and her clone.]

"It didn't matter to Channel Nine that the camera was unharmed, they still took the price out of her severance package. The payout from Channel Seven when they bought the story took the edge off, but they didn't want to hire her after airing it."

[“Hi, I was telling that story back there. Sorry I forgot my quotation marks.”]

Nancy left the realdoll processing the story as she deposited the folded clothes into a rarely-used dresser. She returned, her doppleganger studying the way Nancy's calloused feet reacted to the freshly steam cleaned carpet.

[“Ow-ow-ow stupid steam!]

"Of course, the ABC were impressed and gave her a reporting job."

[So beating up in interviewees means you’re a good reporter?]

Nancy took the hand-delivered folder - the same striking green as Cho's almost trademarked eyes - and read the note Cho had written with it.

[I don’t care how amazingly beautiful the OC’s eyes are.]

"Apparently she's got a live broadcast tonight. Nice little birthday present." She left the gift wrapped, as instructed. "Would you like to watch?"

[Heh, she likes to watch.]

Inside the culmination of Nancys' self obsession, programming was running numbers, eventually settling on 'flirty'. "That depends, Sugar, would she be watching us in return?"

[Nancy’s.]

Nancy froze. "I need a name for you."

[How about “Evidence of my need to enter therapy”?]

"I am Realdoll Nancy."

The woman jabbed her finger into the realdoll's chest. "I am a private woman, Dolly. I always have been, and intend to be."

[What does that have to do with your RealDoll not having its own name?]

Dolly bowed her head. "Can we still watch? I would like to know all your friends." In some internal database, the text string 'just in case' was filed away for future reference.

[“Just in case” she wants a threesome. Though probably the only threesome she wants would involve buying another RealDoll.]

Nancy frowned at the faux pas, but seeing the excitement light up behind soulless eyes was more than enough to bring the real woman's smile back.

[The faux pas of saying her name.]

"Alright, we can migrate to the lounge once we're done with the presents."

[Calling on ancient instincts, the wild Nancy migrates to the lounge every winter.]

---

Part 3:  http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/53180.html

 

I have permission from Psiidom to do this sporking/msting/whatever. This is facetious and hypocritical and is not meant to be taken seriously.

---

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/297696.

Rating:

Explicit

[Porn]

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Other

Fandom:

Homestuck

Character:

Original Characters, Black Queen, Black King, White Queen, White King

[Original characters and only four canon characters? Not looking good.]

Stats:

Published: 2011-12-21 Updated: 2012-01-25 Chapters: 16/? Words: 18614

[18614 words? What have I signed up for?!]

Exploring time and paradox space - Sburb hits Australia

[I’m an American so I might not catch all the words and references. Bear with me.]

by Psiidmon

Summary

After the fall of the united states, a member of the australian media catches on to the internet's two latest crazes - and so, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation begins their Let's Play of SBURB.

[After the fall of the United States? What?!

“United States” and “Australian” should be capitalized.]

Brown wrapping, Glass box

Nancy was never an ordinary woman. She lived in a beautiful set of hills, in an isolated mansion well off the beaten path. She always had her groceries dropped off on a strict schedule, the deliverymen never quite seeing the rumoured insane young woman as they make their rounds.

[Oh no we’re starting off with the OCs.]

On Nancy's birthday the deliveryman who drew the short stick found himself giving directions to another courier, this one carting a large dark brown box and several smaller ones - cyan, silver, a gray to match the stormy skies, and finally a gold package.

The pair left their relevant goods in the stables attached to the house, and as they left the grocery hire buzzed the intercom. The deliverymen walked back down the long driveway, missing a streak of white flesh and bright blonde hair deposit one last gift on the pile - a bright green envelope.

[How do you miss a streak of flesh deposit a gift?]

Twenty minutes later, the recluse slunk out of the main mansion. The movement of the door set off an intricate dance of mirrors and reflections, reversing almost imperceptably as the door shut again. Calloused bare feet walked confidently over the deliciously soft grass, their owner looking up at the stormy skies with a smile.

[Imperceptibly]

Nancy had more pressing matters than to wait for a natural shower. She began carting the six gifts inside, treating the biggest with uptmost care and reverence. Beneath her left breast, her heart was beating frantically - should she ration her gifts out or open her favourite first?

[Yes, the heart generally is under the left breast, you don’t need to point it out, pervert.

It’s “upmost”]

The debate raged inside her as she travelled to the bedroom with all the gifts, her personally-perfect reflection for once not drawing her attention from all sides.

[Her personally-perfect reflection? Does that mean she’s incredible beautiful or does it mean she has custom mirrors? She sounds pretty narcissistic.]

Nancy found herself unable to resist and unwrapped the large present just slightly, fishing around inside the box for an instruction manual.

Nancy buzzed with excitement as her hand brushed over the end of a long ponytail belonging to the gift's inhabitant, but she scolded herself and instead withdrew the elusive instructions, giving it a brief read.

'We have listened to your feedback', boasted the marketing department, 'and have given you what you asked for - a living, learning RealDoll(tm) experience. No more cold unresponsive nature! Simply fit the enclosed Lifetime Guaranteed fusion battery pack into your new partner's stomach and watch them come to life!'

[Oh no, a RealDoll. I hope this isn’t where the explicit rating comes from.]

The recluse tugged the rest of the brown wrapping off the large package, revealing a glass-eyed toy bearing her features, with a few minor changes she deemed unacceptable. For one, her doppleganger broke her number one rule: wearing clothes at home.

[Doppelganger. Doppelgänger if you want to show off.

Wait, a doppelganger? She got a RealDoll of herself? This isn’t sounding good.]

(picture by the lovely Lissa)

[I hope the RealDoll has a nose.]

Secondly her synthetic brown hair was the correct length, down to a shapely rear.

[Down to her shapely rear, unless the hair turns into a rear.]

The only issue with the hair was that she did not have Nancy's own long briad nor her large ring she tied tightly within the end of her braid, causing a nice rythmic bounce against her buttocks with each step.

[braid, rhythmic]

Nancy inspected the exposed stomach of her new toy, sliding the battery pack into a sticker-labelled hidden seam, peeling the stickers off as she lightly pet the taut skin flat.

[So this is what we use fusion technology for. Damn rule of first adopters.]

The light giggle coming from the toy caused her to glance upwards at the smiling face of her twin.

"Well, good to know you work at least." Nancy took her clone by the hand and led her to the bed, where she was seated. "Now, I'm guessing your factory settings are a bit lacking..." Nancy glanced at the pile of presents as her learning toy smiled at her.

"I can learn from you while you talk, since I am meant to be you I could learn your mannerisms."

[That sounds even more creepy.]

Nancy smiled at that. "Oooh, you are a smooth talker. Alright, let's see." She gestured to the pile of presents. "Alright, my friends, top to bottom. First is Cho."

[Exposition time!]

---

Part 2:  http://hysteria-woman.livejournal.com/52781.html

This was done without the permission of Blaperile. If she doesn't like it I'll take it down and she has the right to spork me back. Not that anyone will read sporking anyway. I am so lonely.

Most of this is hypocritical and facetious. I am not a grammar expert and I've gotten many things wrong too in my fanfics.

 The Seadweller Queen

by Blaperile

Summary
Feferi is the heiress to the Alternian Throne, and her ancestor tries teaching her how to be a leader.

But, Feferi wants to enjoy life first with her friend Eridan
.Unfortunately, Eridan's ancestor wants the throne as well.

Notes

This is a present for Disney fans out there. <3

Also, this is not based on canon, like at all.

The Condesce has a completely different personality,

and here some Trolls take care of their descendants.
And also, this is just a prologue.

Prologue
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The sea coloured orange in the sun as the latter began disappearing in the distance.

With the first glimpse of the moon,

the Trolls and Lusi of Alternia began waking up.

Another night to seize.

When they wake up, they all begin their own business in their hives. But tonight, this wasn’t the case.

Everyone in the sea was making haste tonight. They had to be somewhere, and quickly.

From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking step into the moon
There’s more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There’s far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the moon rolling high
Through the black sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round

Slowly, all Trolls and Lusi began arriving at the gates of the Royal Hive.

It’s the circle of life
And it moves us all

On the balcony, their Queen stood with a triumphant smile. Her servant, a mere yellow blood

 using his psychic powers to make a barrier of air around him,

just arrived and bowed for her.

 He was her most loyal servant, and she trusted him all her secrets.

Through despair and hope
Through faith and love

In the meantime, yet another servant was arriving.
This one was a Jade blood,

supported by a diving suit to breath there.

She was the Queen’s most wise advisor.
These 2 servants

were the only Trolls that had the support of the Queen to be in the sea.

‘Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle
The circle of life

With both of her servants there, the Queen walked back inside. There, the lusus of one of her less trustable servants was taking care of a small red-pink coloured grub.

It is unusual for adult Trolls to take care of young Trolls. Some seadwelling Trolls are exceptions. It is possible for them to live long enough to find out who their descendants are, and some of them would take care of the young Trolls to make them go into their own footsteps. Others didn't live long enough and left a journal for their descendants and some others couldn't care less about their descendants.

The Queen was one of the first group, and her descendant had recently been laid by the Mother Grub.
The lusus showed the Queen and her servants the grub, who looked up with curious eyes.

The Jade Troll took the grub out of the lusus’ tentacles and commenced the traditions for newly born royal grubs.

The proud Troll looked on.

When the Jade Troll was done, she walked back to the balcony and showed the grub to the antsy Trolls below,

while the proud queen stood next to her.
They all began cheering for their future queen, and then bowed for her.

It’s the circle of life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
‘Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle
The circle of life

Chapter End Notes
Haha, nope, the characters won't be listed like they are right now in the future anymore. Don't worry.But why would I already spoil their identities?

P.S. Shhhh, what are you talking about their identities are not revealed in the summary. :PChapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
During the ceremony, all Trolls and intelligent lusi throughout the sea were present.

Except for one Troll, one of the few adults left on Alternia.

This one was a pure purple blooded seadweller. He had been in many battles, serving his queen.While the others were at the ceremony, he was hunting a lusus, somewhere in a cave. It was a small aquatic beast.

He grabbed the un-expecting animal in his hands.
“Life’s not fair, isn’t it?” he mockingly asked the lusus, who was trying to get out of the grasp, “Because I shall never be king.”

He chuckled.
“While you shall never see the light of the moon anymore!”

He put the aquatic beast on the ground, squashing its tail with his foot, preparing to kill it.

“Didn’t your lusus or ancestor tell you not to play with your food?” a voice asked.
The Seadweller looked up and noticed a yellow blooded Troll floating in.
“What do you want? the Seadweller Troll grunted.
“I’m here to announce that Her Imperious Condescension is on her way,

so you better have a good excuse for missing the ceremony this evening.” the Yellow blooded Troll hissed.

The Seadweller lifted his foot, and the small lusus quickly escaped, still bleeding a lot though.
“Great, there goes my dinner.” the Seadweller responded while glaring.

“Heh, you’ll miss more than that when the Queen is done with you. She’s as mad as Gl'bgolyb while commencing the Vast Glub.” the Yellow blooded Troll grinned.

“Oooh, I quiver with fear.” the Seadweller said sarcastically with a smirk on his face while aiming a blue rifle at the Troll.

The Yellow Troll’s eyes widened.

“N-now now Dualscar, d-don’t look at me that way.” the Troll stuttered as he was walking backwards.

But then Dualscar let off a lethal shot with his rifle.

“HEEEEEEELP!” the other Troll exclaimed as he narrowly dodged it.

“Dualscar…” a feminine voice said.

The Seadweller turned his glance from the other Troll to the one behind him,

and noticed that it was the Queen.

“G-good timing, my Queen.” the Troll stuttered as he quickly absconded to her side, trying to stay cool and making sure his barrier of air was still good.

“Oh my Queen…” Dualscar bowed, “What brings you to this miserable cave?”

“I didn’t see you at the presentation of Feferi.” she answered with a glare.

“Oh, that was today?” the Seadweller responded with a surprised look in his eyes, “I’m very sorry, majesty. It must have slipped my mind.”

“Hmph.” the Yellow blooded Troll grunted, “As the Queen’s most skilled soldier, you should have been there!”

“Hah, I would have been there if it wasn’t for that miserable grub!” Dualscar snarled.

In a swift movement, the Queen’s trident was inches away from Dualscar’s neck.

“That miserable grub is my descendant, and your future queen!” she shouted.

“I know, I know, pfff…” Dualscar chuckled as he just began walking away.

“DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, DUALSCAR!” she exclaimed as she pushed him to the wall and held his throat.

“P-perhaps you shouldn’t turn you back on ME!” he answered, gasping for breath.

“Is that a challenge?” she glared.

“I-I wouldn’t dream of challenging you…” he responded.

The Queen let him go and pushed him to the ground.

“If you weren’t my most skilled fighter, you’d have been dead sweeps ago, Dualscar.” she snarled.

“You may have the brains queen, but I’ve got the brute strength.” he answered as he stood up and dusted himself off.

And with those last words, Dualscar walked away.

“He won’t ever change, will he?” the Yellow blooded Troll sighed with an annoyed grunt, “And he always knows how to ruin special occasions, like your descendant’s birth.”

“Ugh, I don’t know what to do with him.” she answered as she shook her head, looking after him.

“Slit his throat?” the Yellow blooded Troll grinned.

“Sollux!” she answered with a small chuckle.

“He’d make some excellent food for the royal lusi!”

--
Soon, a storm razed all across the land, of course the seadwellers didn’t have any trouble of it. But the Landdwellers did.

After the ceremony, the Jade Troll had returned to her hive, after a few hours of walking back through rain.

She always had a lot of precognitive dreams, of which she made predictions of the future on what would happen.

These usually came true in one form or another.

Because of this, she became a trusty advisor of the Queen and she always predicted the good times ahead of them.

Right now, she was making a drawing of the newly hatched grub.

When she was done, she chuckled as she admired her work.

“Feferi… I know you’ll be a great queen later.”

Alas, she couldn’t predict everything. Like the tragedy of what would soon happen to the current Queen.

Chapter End Notes

Alright, you know the identities of a few of the characters now.
But who could this mysterious Jade blood be?

whydoievenbotheritissoobvious