In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
A special thank you to ChasingArtwork of Deviantart, who allowed us to use this stellar banner image.
There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
The icons you see across the site are from FontAwesome, an amazing icon library.
All images on this site belong to their respective owners or creators. Kingdom Hearts: World Destiny does not claim ownership of anything except our unique story.
All Original characters are the intellectual property of their respective RPers. Do not steal any characters or other creative works.
All Canon Characters belong to the Kingdom Hearts franchise, Square Enix and Disney.
Hey everyone! It's my newest project I've been working on. I'd appreciate it if there are no comments here, as I'm putting this up to be read. If you want to say something, you can visit the Disburb tumblr page where the adventure is also posted and I will be answering questions if I get any.
you can also visit my tumblr page to ask questions or just marvel at how one person can possibly be so lame
Anyways, enjoy this (hopefully) huge fanfiction as I slowly progress with it! It's my main project for winter break.]
--guardingCosmos [GC] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]--
AG: GC? You changed your handle again. GC: I’m telling you GC: You shouldn’t go through with this GC: It’s bad for us all AG: Oh. You’re not GC. Augh, I should’ve guessed, it was kinda obvious. AG: Oh well. AG: You should probably stop using her acronym since it’s a liiiittle misleading. GC: It doesn’t matter GC: Stop changing the subject GC: You’ve procured a copy of the game haven’t you AG: Uh, yeah. AG: I’d say I dug it up, but you apparently already know that? AG: You seem to know a lot about me and my friends, it’s weird. GC: You are deliberately derailing me again GC: Can’t you see GC: I’m trying to protect you and your world from your demise GC: It is my unfortunate duty AG: Unfortunate? Meaning you don’t want to “save our lives”? AG: If that’s what this is all about anyways but I’m not exactly inclined to believe you. GC: That’s not quite what I meant GC: I’m trying to save you but it’s difficult GC: Especially since looking at all the facts you probably won’t be saved GC: Though “looking” is a loaded word that perhaps shouldn’t be used in my case GC: But I digress AG: ... Yeah, you lost me. AG: Listen, I appreciate the sentiment. Or, at least, I think I do. AG: But I don’t understand how you keep bothering me when every time we’ve had this conversation, I’ve blocked you. AG: You’re interesting, and I don’t like blocking you, but it’s still creepy how you know so much and I’ve assumed it’s for the best to keep the creepy guys away. AG: You know how it is. GC: Actually I don’t GC: Please just listen! AG: I’m really sorry about this man. AG: But not today. AG: There’s too much I’m doing today, and I don’t want to be distracted. AG: Maybe I’ll see you around? GC: Wait
You sigh, closing the chat log. It always pains you a bit to leave this poor guy hanging. You have no idea what he’s – she’s? come to think of it, you’re not quite sure – harping on about all the time what with this “impending doom” nonsense, and he sure does know a lot about you and your friends, but he seems to mean well, at any rate.
But meaning well isn’t enough, and today is a very important day for you and your friends. Like you told this “guardingCosmos” stranger, you’ve got a shit ton of important things to do today, most of which involves the unveiling of the incredible piece of history you dug up recently. Sometimes your friends laugh at you with your various archaeological finds – finding their histories dubious – but most don’t, and the rest mostly refrain from doing so. It’s why they’re your friends, after all, among other reasons.
Well, enough dillydallying. You’ve got quite a few things to be getting on with!
Your name is MILO JAMES THATCH. Just Milo is fine, though. Not long ago – through a serious of complicated events – you unearthed an incredible archaeological find, a game called Disburb. You sold the rights to it to WHITMORE INCORPORATED and you recently acquired the beta copy (and some more copies) absolutely free of charge. You’re trying to get your friends to play with you, but they’ll need some more convincing. You guess you’re the man for the job. Anyways, you do things besides (unsuccessfully) convince other people to do things. You specialize in learning DEAD LANGUAGES – heck, ANCIENT CULTURES are just really interesting to you in general! You’re really NERDY, very interested in NONFICTION BOOKS and even FICTIONAL LEGENDS that you wish weren’t quite so fictional. You specifically hold the legend of ATLANTIS close to your heart – though anybody you’d ever ask would classify that particular story as a bunch of horse shit. You dabble a little bit in MECHANICS, but you’re pretty shit at that stuff, and generally just think you should stick to the BOOKISH stuff.
You live in an apartment ALL BY YOURSELF. Well, you also have a CAT – FLUFFY – but it’s been just you ever since your grandfather died (who had been taking care of you after your parents died when you were too young to remember). That doesn’t get you down, though! In fact, you’ve got a PICTURE OF HIM on your NIGHT STAND to cheer you up when you’re feeling down. You also keep his OVERLARGE HAT around for sentimental purposes. You have plenty of BOOKCASES, PAPERS, ESSAYS, and OLD BOOKS WRITTEN IN OTHER LANGUAGES lying around to keep yourself occupied in the meantime. But you’ve got to start paying the bills soon.
In the meantime, there’s a game to be played! You’re not going to pretend you can SEE INTO THE FUTURE or anything wacky like that, but you think it’s going to be one hell of a time – and by that, you hopefully mean it’ll be fun, and not actual hell. Only TIME WILL TELL, but your friends better get their butts online so you can get this thing started.
Your handle is ancientGrammarian, and you speak with proper diction – and you are impeccably dorky at the same time.
You ponder for a moment, briefly wondering which GC you mean. But then you laugh a little bit to yourself in a slightly embarrassed way, fully aware that you meant your friend GC, not the intriguing anonymous troll that also had the same acronym for a confusing reason. Then again, there is no reason to think that in the great wide world of PesterChum there aren’t repeating acronyms. So long as the handles themselves aren’t recurring, it all made sense.
You shove your overlarge glasses up the bridge of your nose as you double click on GC’s name to open up a chat window with her. She doesn’t presently seem to be online, but you know she’ll be on any moment now; you asked her to speak to you within the next few minutes, and there is nothing to do but wait until she shows. She’s pretty much one of your best friends, and of all eleven others, she’s the one you want to start the game with.
--ancientGrammarian [AG] began pestering geneticallyCultivated [GC]--
AG: GC? AG: Haha, yeah, there was no real reason to ask for you; I can clearly see you’re not online. : P AG: Oh geez, that sounded dorky! AG: Also, I’m trying out emoticons, as you can see. Hah... yeeeeah.
You pause to lift your glasses and knead your eyes with the heel of your hand, grimacing in frustration at the embarrassing words you find yourself cranking out. You have a tendency to be pretty dorky all the time and get tongue-tied, even when your tongue isn’t directly involved in the communication process. Ugh, oh well...
AG: So, uh. AG: I’ll just wait here for you, then? AG: Okay, let me know when you’re online! : )
After a moment’s deliberation, you edit the smilie to make it look more like your own face.
AG: I mean, 8).
You smile, cracking your knuckles. Perfect.
Nothing left to do but wait for her response... Well, you suppose there are a few other people you can alert, now that the game’s come in the mail and is sitting right there on your desk. You trust GC will take care of CG and his moody self, but you’ve got to get on your own moody friend, CC, sooner rather than later; you frown, remembering how apathetic she can be, and wonder briefly if she’s really in on playing like she says she is. And it can’t hurt to speak briefly to your other best friend, TC, and get a status report on what he might be up to.
After a moment’s deliberation, you make your decision.
--ancientGrammarian [AG] began pestering covertCastaway [CC]--
AG: Hey, CC. So, I got the game. AG: That means we’re gonna play today! You excited? CC: i’m waiting with intensely bated breath. AG: Great! CC: that was sarcasm. AG: ... Oh. AG: Well, you’ll play, right? AG: You have to. AG: I mean, um, AG: I really... would like you to. CC: ... CC: ok. AG: Okay what? CC: ok i’ll play. geez, milo. CC: i’ve got a few things to do, though, first. CC: don’t bother me until i come back. AG: All right, all right! AG: CC, you always seem to disappear for long periods of time. AG: You just, I dunno, have a tendency to, like, go invisible for weeks on end. AG: I’d like to talk to you more, you know? CC: ... ok. AG: Sigh. Okay what?? CC: ok, let’s talk more. CC: but like i said. i’m a little busy. CC: ... i’ll talk to you later.
Sheesh. She’s such an enigma. Must she always be so mysterious? It’s a little frustrating. But you’re not going to lie, you sort of like puzzles, even if said puzzles take the form of people. People puzzles. Interesting stuff.
Still, simplicity is nice, and TC is as simple as they come. You move to click on his name to start a chat log with him.
Oh, wait. Looks like you’ve got an incoming message.
--glacialTutelary [GT] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]--
GT: hey milo GT: whaddup GT: you uh gettin’ ready to start playing soon?? AG: Oh, hi. AG: Um. AG: Yeah, actually. AG: You? GT: yeah i’ve got my team together GT: we’re gonna be p cool GT: it’s gonna be so much FUN AG: Great! GT: well except GT: we kinda need one more player... AG: GT, we’ve been through this. GT: i know but hear me out GT: AC doesn’t really belong with you guys anyways GT: and what you’ve got a group of like eleven without him?? GT: c’mon man that’s a lot you’ve got this game in the bag GT: you’ll totally own it you don’t need him AG: What do you mean, AC doesn’t belong with us? AG: He’s our friend! GT: pssh AG: No, really! AG: Okay, well, I might not be particularly close with him. GT: uh-huh got that right specs AG: Uh, right. AG: Like I was saying, though I’m not close with him, CA certainly is! AG: She absolutely insisted he be included if she’s going to play with us. GT: she’s a regular fire brand that one GT: feisty AG: Yeah, she can be hard to handle sometimes... GT: oh don’t say it like that GT: she’s p chill GT: but we’ll take her if you don’t want her AG: Argh! AG: GT, our friends are not just people to give away to other teams! Let them choose! AG: How would you like it if I tried to force, say, TG to play for my team? AG: Or you? GT: okay okay specs you’ve got a point AG: How about you just ask AC if he’s okay with switching? AG: I’d feel better if I stayed with my twelve – AG: even numbers make the most sense to me – AG: but if he wants to join your team, well, I won’t stop him. AG: CA might want to leave as well if that’s the case. GT: hnng GT: but that would give us five and like you said i’m sure even numbers are best AG: Just talk to them. AG: And if worst comes to worst, I’m sure you’ll be able to find some sixteen-year-old somewhere in the dregs of the Internet that’d be willing to be the fourth member of your team. AG: That’s how all of us met, anyways. GT: yeah aight GT: w/e milo you’re probably right GT: at least you’re not giving me the cold shoulder like some other members of your team do GT: ignoring me with their downright frosty demeanors like i’m not even there AG: I’m sorry... that’s unfortunate. GT: yeah well i’m not really even their friend anyways GT: never really belonged with them GT: never really belonged anywhere AG: I see. GT: i think you mean GT: icy AG: Ha! Always with the cold puns... AG: ...if you catch my drift! GT: ha GT: ice one GT: aight i’m out catch you later AG: Later.
You sigh, lifting up your glasses to rub your eyes. Little as you like to admit it, what GT said was true – your friends don’t treat him very nicely. (Icely.) He can be sort of hard to handle sometimes, but so can everyone! You can’t think of a single friend that’s never given you a hard time before.
A while ago, you offered to let GT join your already huge team, along with his two best friends TG and CT. True, that would raise the pool of players to a highly unwise fifteen – too large PLUS it’s an odd number – but GT declined all the same, finding the number to be a bit foreboding as well, and decided to just play his own game with his friends. But ever since the teams had been decided, GT’s had his eyes on AC, as AC may just be his BEST friend, and also occasionally CA. Ugh. Thinking about it all gives you a headache. While you might be exceptionally gifted at mediating between two parties, there’s only so much a sixteen-year-old can handle when it comes to a particularly large group of sixteen-year-olds. Most of the in-drama you tend to keep away from; you figure it’s best to just let your friends choose whichever routes they desire and hope it all coincides with your grand schemes.
You pull yourself from your meditating to move to click on TC’s name again, but before you can, you are interrupted by yet another incoming message. You open the chat log and smile. Oh good, it’s GC; she’s gotten back to you. Great! Now maybe you can start playing the game soon!
Man. Thinking about that game gets you antsy as hell. You’re so excited; you hear it’s going to be some sort of adventure game of epic proportions. You haven’t been this excited since the time you first discovered it in those ruins!
Well. You didn’t quite discover it. But that’s another story.
Better see what GC has to say.
--geneticallyCultivated [GC] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]--
GC: milo!! GC: what adorable emoticons! i do rather like the glasses look for you. GC: oh look, here’s one of my own! GC: : D AG: GC! 8) AG: Hey, you finally got back to me. AG: Well, uh, not finally, but I mean um AG: right on time. AG: Yeah. GC: *giggle* : ) GC: my goodness i can’t believe it’s time already!! AG: It really is, isn’t it? GC: quite! GC: i’ve just been having a bother of a time attempting finagle CG into saying an outright “yes, of course i’ll play with you.” GC: really, sometimes i’m not quite sure why i even waste my time! AG: Well, AG: why do you? AG: Waste your time, I mean. GC: oh dear. i mean, well, GC: time spent with bosom friends is time not wasted, i suppose. GC: and he is very dear to me, persnickety though he may be. AG: I see.
You frown, a little bit unhappy with this answer. Well, CG is your friend as well, but you’ve never quite understood what GC saw in him that warranted such closeness. He’s just another angsty teen – albeit a smart one.
GC: isn’t it quite the same with CC, though? GC: i’ve never been fond of her much, no offense, milo! GC: she’s the worst sort of grumpy, and she simply vanishes for ages and ages!
Ah. Of course, she brings up CC.
“Well, that’s different,” you start to type – but hesitate, perhaps wondering if it really is such a different situation after all.
AG: She’s my friend, and she means a lot to me. GC: i see!! GC: i’m sorry. AG: No, no, it’s okay. AG: I wasn’t exactly being kind about CG either. 8P AG: I’m sorry, too. GC: it’s quite all right. GC: well, enough of this topic! our churlish friends can wait. GC: shall i begin installation? AG: Well, actually, I’ve been thinking. AG: There’s been a slight change in plans. GC: oh? how do you mean? GC: the program works on a client/server basis, correct? AG: Yes, that’s correct. GC: and you were going to start off as the client and i the server, and then CG was going to connect to me as my server, and then the chain would continue on in this order: CC, GA, AA, CA, AC, AT, TA, GG, and TC? GC: that’s right, isn’t it? AG: Yes. AG: Er, well, no. AG: We’re changing things up a bit. GC: oh? whatever for? AG: Well, see, your acronym doppelganger found me again recently. GC: oh no!! : O GC: he always tries to stop us from playing... GC: but what does that have to do with anything?? AG: I figure that he knows the original order, as I let it slip to him once. AG: Except it was on purpose, as I always had the intention of changing the order after I told him. AG: I just figured I’d change it last minute, so when you’re first testing out the game he’s bothering me instead of you and not throwing off our concentration. GC: hmm! GC: seems more convoluted than it needs to be... GC: but all right, what is the new order? GC: you’ve insinuated that i will begin first? AG: Yeah, that’s right! AG: And I’ll be your server player. GC: who would be next, then? AG: I’m afraid I can’t say. AG: I’ve reason to believe that guardingCosmos has access to our pesterlogs. AG: Hopefully if we start right away, he won’t have time to read this log before we really begin. GC: very well! you’re the leader! AG: Naw. That’s someone else. GC: hmm?? GC: well anyways i have one last question. GC: who am i to connect to when the time comes? AG: Oh, that’ll be AC. AG: But we’ve got a ways until then. Let’s just concentrate on us now, okay? GC: sounds lovely. GC: let me just locate my copy of the game, and we’ll be set. GC: cheerio!! AG: Ha, yes, “cheerio.” 8) GC: <3
You hesitate a moment, a dull red flush creeping into your cheeks. Two quick clicks seem to echo in the silence of your room as you type two characters in response before hastily signing off.
Sheesh. Being sixteen is hard! All those hormones acting up. You like to think it doesn’t get to you, but it very obviously does, in embarrassing ways. And GC sure does know how to make you feel flustered.
Your name is JANE PORTER. You are a self-proclaimed SCIENTIST, considering yourself to be highly knowledgeable in the art of making deductions and experiments and smoky bangs. In all reality, your FATHER is a much better scientist than you are, as you tend to be too erratic for most of your EXPERIMENTS to be successful. LIVING CREATURES – such as GORILLAS - fascinate you as well. You are quite a talented ARTIST, as you love to sketch and draw, and you’re very GOOD AT IT, if you do say so yourself. You have a habit of TALKING TOO MUCH about INANE THINGS, and your BRITISH ACCENT only makes you sound more ECCENTRIC. Often you like to pretend that you’re a BRAVE EXPLORER, but sometimes you talk to yourself too much and just end up SCARING YOURSELF with scary hypothetical situations.
Your room is small, but jumbled. A long, flat table’s space is entirely taken up by BEAKERS filled with VARIOUS LIQUIDS, some slightly ominous-looking. Your walls are decorated in POSTERS OF THE AFRICAN JUNGLES, which sort of doesn’t make sense since you’re currently – temporarily – LIVING IN THE AFRICAN JUNGLES. You own a few STUFFED ANIMALS which are sitting on your hammock – oh no, not real animals, heavens no! You have a few gorilla dolls by name of TERK, KALA, and KERCHAK, and an elephant named TANTOR. An old KEN DOLL of yours sits with them, dressed in nothing but a loin cloth – he is a WILD MAN of your imagination, living in the jungles and with the gorillas, a mysterious enigma named TARZAN. He is probably your favorite doll. A CHALKBOARD takes up one corner of the room, and an EASEL another.
You’re a bit of an odd girl, what with your ECCENTRICITIES and other such nonsense, serving as quite a contrast to other MAIDENS OF YOUR AGE. But you haven’t been around people of your age – that is, SIXTEEN – for a while now, unless you count your INTERNET FRIENDS. They are the LIGHT OF YOUR LIFE, and you are eager to play Milo’s game with them.
They can reach you at your handle, geneticallyCultivated, where you speak in a chatty, bubbly, British-y manner.
You glance out the window. The date is December 21st, 2012, and supposedly, today is the end of the world. You don’t personally believe that load of tosh; what you’re more worked up about is the fact that, despite the presence of winter, the oppressive heat of the jungle makes everything feel like summer. The humidity doesn’t do much for your hair, either – unless, by “much”, you mean “completely ruins it.”
You know your friends are in locations across the globe that allows them to experience cooler weather, and perhaps even snow! You can’t remember the last time it snowed in London; the place isn’t exactly famous for its blizzards.
At least it’s Christmas in a few days and, in the meantime, you’ve got an exciting game to play that Milo’s been babbling on about ever since Whitmore Inc. began distributing beta copies. Maybe even before then.
Seeking to avoid an encounter with your Daddy, you tiptoe hastily up the stairs and log onto your computer. You’ve got another hour before Milo said to be online, but there’s no harm in checking to see if he’s there or not. You boot up the computer and eagerly glance at your chat application – but, no such luck; you’ve got to wait out the hour.
Not many are online at the time anyhow. Bored, you wonder if there’s someone for you to talk to and pass the time away painlessly. You spot TA’s name and make a face. No, not her, she’s too bubbly and self-centered. You nod to GA’s and smile a little, wondering if you’ll humor him and give him a cheerful “hello.” He’s on most of the time as is. Does he really have nothing else to do than sit on his computer all of the time? Well, you suppose he sleeps, as well. Only heaven’s light knows with him...
Oh, CG’s just signed on. Quick, before you miss him! You hastily type a greeting before an inopportune mood swing of his pulls him away from the computer again.
--geneticallyCultivated [GC] began pestering captainGunslinger [CG]— GC: hullo!! GC: don’t go anywhere quite yet, we need to talk, mister! CG: what do you want GC: grumpy as per usual, i see! GC: today’s the day of the game, silly!! CG: tch GC: ... what is that supposed to mean, exactly? CG: it means big fuckin whoop CG: who the fuck even cares it’s just a stupid game CG: i’ve got better things to do GC: like what, exactly? GC: tinker with your odd skateboard doohickey?? GC: you COULD be playing a game with your FRIENDS, you know!! CG: it’s not a skateboard “doohickey” GC: hmph! as you so like to say, “whatever”!! CG: whatever GC: if you had a comical bone in your body i might’ve taken that for a joke! CG: god jane CG: you don’t have to be a fucking bitch GC: ... GC: well you don’t GC: you don’t have to be so GC: ... so MEAN!!!! GC: you’re so rude and churlish and awful and i’m SICK OF IT!!!!! GC: nobody else puts up with you!!! GC: milo wonders why i even bother, i know he does!!!! GC: how does your mom...?? CG: ... how does my mom what.
You freeze, your face an ugly, blotchy red, as though you’d really been having a shouting match. You overstepped your bounds, and you know it. Shit.
GC: i... GC: no no no no no, no, i GC: i didn’t CG: save it. CG: you were probably going to say something like “how does she deal with a felon OOPS I MEAN FELLOW HEEHEE I’M SO ADORABLE AND BRITISH like him” CG: whatever CG: i don’t need this CG: i’m outta here. GC: NO WAIT!!!! CG: ... GC: i’m sorry, all right, i really am. GC: i crossed the line, i GC: i just was so MAD and GC: i’m really sorry. CG: ... GC: you can go now if you’d like... CG: ... no, jane. CG: look, i guess i’m kind of CG: “grumpy” CG: sometimes. CG: just... don’t take it so personally, alright? GC: honestly? it’s a little hard not to! GC: your apathy can be pretty hurtful sometimes! GC: it feels a little bit like misdirected rage... :/ CG: yeah, yeah, alright CG: i’m CG: uh CG: ... sorry. GC: !!! CG: stop right there, if you make a joke of this... GC: no no no, i won’t. GC: thank you for the apology, it’s appreciated. CG: whatever GC: : P GC: so are you going to play with us?? GC: please! i’d love you to play!! CG: yeah, okay, i’ll give it a shot GC: : O splendid!!! <3 GC: i’ll have to tell milo asap, he’s supposed to meet me online in about a half an hour... CG: shit GC: hmm?? CG: no not you CG: mom CG: gotta go CG: i’ll see you later
Hmm. You wonder what could be up? Well, CG’s always had a rocky relationship with his mom for as long as you could remember. Actually, make that most people. You’d like to think you’re his closest friend, but you know that’s probably not the case. Still, it gives you no small bit of warm satisfaction to know he would care about you so much as to apologize to you.
You glance once more at the log of online chums. Milo’s not here yet, unfortunately, leaving more time left to kill. CG’s left, so that rules him out. You suppose you could pop in and say hi to GA like you debated on doing earlier, but you don’t particularly feel like doing that... You wish AT was on, you wouldn’t mind talking to him; he’s dorky like you are, and is probably one of your closest friends.
You sigh, turning from the computer and settling yourself down by your chalkboard.
You’ll end up getting lost in that drawing and be almost late to your meeting with Milo.
What’s up is that your name is JAMES PLEIADES HAWKINS, except no one but your mom is allowed to call you that. You go by JIM. No one can call you JIMMY, or JIMMY JIM JIM JIMMY JIM JIM JIM JIMMY, or JIMBO. Not unless they want a heaping helping of your unbridled TEENAGE ANGST. You used to be happier – but that was before your dad left. Now you have what can only be classified as DADDY ISSUES. All you want is a MOMENT TO BE REAL, to TOUCH THINGS you don’t FEEL, to HOLD ON, and feel you BELONG. Is that too much to ask? Well, since all of those things are kind of psychological anyways, you spend most of your time with your INTERESTS. You are quite the MECHANIC, building and breaking down technological things with few problems, even making your own things sometimes. You also tend to be a RECKLESS THRILL SEEKER; you like to SURF in the nearby ocean and SKATEBOARD on dry land. One day you hope to combine both of those talents to create some sort of SURFING SKATEBOARD THAT CAN FLY. Oh god. That would be so fucking awesome.
Your room is small, located on the floor above YOUR MOM’S INN, the ADMIRAL BENBOW. It’s also quite messy; various TECHNOLOGICAL PARTS, TOOLS, BLUEPRINTS, and HALF-FINISHED PROJECTS are scattered about. (Also some homemade TREASURE MAPS, but those are kind of embarrassing. You like to come up with stories where you’re a TREASURE HUNTING AND SWASHBUCKLING BADASS, but they’re all kind of lame.) You have some cool posters of SPACE because you’re kind of interested in ASTRONOMY. A PISTOL is lying on your desk; you’re working on trying to program it to use PLASMA BEAMS instead of BULLETS.
You’re not quite sure what everyone’s DEAL is. Like, so there’s this game, right? Big fucking whoop. You’re not all that interested in it; sounds like it’ll have a lot of MAGICAL BULLSHIT, the likes of which you care little for. Hey, somebody’s gotta be the BREATH OF FRESH AIR among your freaky friends, so it might as well be you. Speaking of those freaks, they can reach you at your handle, captainGunslinger, where you speak in a simultaneously apathetic and ornery tone.
What will you do? Well, that’s a stupid question! You just wasted pointless time on another pointless intro, and now your mom’s really in your room! Ugh, Jane’s obliviousness must be rubbing off on you. There’s only one thing to do now!
You – and this time, I mean you, the reader – take a moment before reading this intense strife scene to pick out some good music. You start to head to the Homestuck Bandcamp page, thinking you’ll maybe put on the usual Showtime or maybe Aggrieve or perhaps even Sunslammer; but then your Disney instincts kick in and you head to Youtube instead. In the search bar, you type in ‘12 Years Later,’ and hit the enter button. The first result is from the Treasure Planet soundtrack. Success. You eagerly click the video, anticipating the sweet badassery of a musical narration of Jim Hawkins’s angsty self – oh, but wait, this beginning’s really slow, you must’ve forgotten. Can’t have that! You skip ahead a bit to 1:20. Oh yeah. Sweet, sweet badassery. Here we go. Let’s return to being Jim.
You suddenly start being yourself again, whatever that means. You give an angry shake of your head; this is no time to have an identity crisis. The door’s halfway open, and your mom’s already inside!
“Jim?” she says. “We need to talk.”
“Not NOW, mom,” you spit out through gritted teeth, debating on whether or not to tap into your PISTOLKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS. But wait, you can’t shoot your mom with a pistol, even if a STRIFE calls for it!
It’s too late, she’s already in the room, and wielding her signature passive-aggressive TRAY OF FOOD! You ABJURE from her onslaught as she thrusts the tray at you, as if trying to get you to eat and take care of yourself and UGH YOU’RE NOT HUNGRY MOM
You attempt to ABSCOND, but there is nowhere to abscond to! You’re already in your hideaway, you moron. Gotta try and get her out of your room so you can go back to being a grumpy teen on the Internet.
You AGGRIEVE – that is, you lunge forward and push your mom out of the room. “Get out!” you say, your usual catchphrase. She protests, fighting against you, and the two of you tussle for a moment, and you manage to push her out into the hallway – until the tray drops from her hands, clanging on the floor and dumping all the food every which way.
You freeze, staring at your mom, who looks bewildered, frustrated, and hurt all at once.
“... Jim,” she says eventually, with a great, tired sigh that seems to make her older than her years. “I feel like I’m losing you. You’re failing out of school, but you’re so smart!” Her voice rises in her exasperation, and she throws her hands up in the air, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. “I just don’t know what to do with you anymore! Ever since your father left...”
You visibly tense up, your hands clenching and unclenching themselves into fists. But then you let out a forcible sigh through your teeth, attempting to relax yourself. It’s not your mom’s fault, and maybe it’s time you stopped blaming her.
“... I’m sorry, Mom. I’m really trying. I am.”
She looks like she doesn’t believe you. If you’re honest, you don’t believe you either.
You step back into your room and shut the door, unable to face her anymore. After a moment, you hear the telltale sound of her starting to clean up the hallway after the mess you just made. You lock your door just to make sure she won’t come in, but struggle with a gut-wrenching guilt all the same.
Your computer dings quietly behind you. Oh, you guess you’ve got message – or maybe a few, as you glance at the various windows that had popped up on your computer.
--troublesomeAquatic [TA] began pestering captainGunslinger [CG]--
TA: jim!!! TA: jiiiiiiim~~ TA: whats up where r u : O~ TA: ha that looks like it has a beard~ TA: hey HEY!! TA: whered u dive off 2?? TA: well just lemme kno when u get back~ TA: <3~
You sigh, not believing that this is the first chat log that popped up. You figure you’d better respond before she gets too obnoxious. Sheesh.
CG: hey TA TA: : O there u r~ TA: <3~ CG: whoa you really like those tildes huh TA: mm yeah! : D TA: idk i guess its just something i picked up from my sisters hehe : ) TA: whats up?? TA: whatre u doing? :? CG: uh CG: just getting ready for the game i guess TA: talked to milo, huh~ CG: actually no CG: just jane TA: oh her... TA: u sure seem to talk 2 her a lot! TA: somethin you wanna tell me~? CG: sheesh TA CG: why do you and everybody else seem to think it’s like that CG: it’s none of your business okay CG: we’re just friends. TA: haha ok ok!! : D CG: ... you sure do use emoticons a lot too TA: idk y~ TA: i guess its sort of like internet body language TA: since u cant hear my voice : O CG: wow okay TA: sooooooo TA: r u gonna play the game today~? CG: thinking about it TA: ur not getting cold fins now are u 9_9 CG: what the hell do fins have to do with anything TA: its just an expression~!! TA: hehehe i think its cute jim~ CG: what TA: ur so coy!
Yikes. Here she goes again.
CG: ugh CG: TA you’re CG: you’re really heavy handed sometimes CG: you know that? TA: heavy handed :? CG: yeah like CG: first of all, what’s with the chat speak? TA: sigh TA: Jim, you know I’m fully capable of typing with proper grammar. : P TA: I can’t believe you actually think I’m an idiot! TA: You need to relax a little bit.~ TA: and im goin back 2 typin like this~~ CG: okay well CG: it’s just irritating TA: stop bein irritated then!! : P CG: whatever you say your highness TA: <3~ CG: anyways I thought you had a concert today CG: what are you even doing online TA: ... : O!!!!!! TA: OH FUCK TA: jim i gotta go!!!!! TA: tell milo that he can start w/out me!!!! TA: BYE <33333
Ugh. You rub your temples and sigh. TA comes on a little strong sometimes. Wait scratch that – she comes on very strong a lot of the time. And she’s smart; she gets herself into a lot of trouble a lot of the time, from what she tells you.
But she’s your friend, and honestly, she’s one of the few that tolerate you - and though you’re irritated with her a lot of the time, you’re also very, very grateful to her for caring about you. Even if she sometimes cares a little too much. But that’s a grievance for another time.
You suppose you should be a good friend in return and tell Milo. You make a face, thinking of that confrontation, and decide to save it for a little later. You’ve got more messages waiting, anyways.
Let’s see... Oh hey, CC’s contacted you. That’s a new one; typically you’re the first to make contact. Still, you smile a little bit. She’s nice to chat with, unlike TA’s almost troubling excitement.
--covertCastaway [CC] began pestering captainGunslinger [CG]--
CC: hey, jim. CC: so. um. this is weird. CC: but i guess i want to talk to you right now... CC: ... yeah. CC: if you’re not too busy. CG: hey CC CC: oh, hi. CG: what’s on your mind? CC: well. CC: i guess i just wanted to talk about milo’s game.
Ugh. Milo’s all the rage these days. It irritates you a little bit. You’re sure you could be friends if he tried to get along with you, but you know he thinks you’re worthless. Most people think you’re worthless. You know this. That’s why you lash out at everyone.
CG: you and everybody else we fucking know CC: hmm. yeah. CC: about that? CC: i don’t know if i want to play. CG: me neither CG: but y’know something CC CC: hm?
You scowl, unable to believe the words you’re about to type.
CG: i think we should play. CC: but you said that you didn’t really want to... CG: i know but CG: i was just talking to TA and CC: oh. her. CG: yeah okay she’s not all that bad CC: ok, jim, whatever you say. CC: you were talking to TA and...? CG: well she really wants to play CG: and she’s my friend CC: i find it hard to believe that she’s the main influencing factor here. CG: well jane wants me to play as well CC: just got the girls all over you, huh. CG: ... the hell’s that supposed to mean? CC: whatever. it doesn’t matter. CG: i thought you liked jane CC: sorta. i mean, she’s alright. CC: when she doesn’t think i’m weird, that is. CG: hey, if it’s any consolation, CG: she thinks i’m pretty weird too CC: hah. CC: guess we’re just a pair of weirdos. CG: guess we are
You smile a little bit. Nothing like a friend you can be grumpy with.
CG: so i’m not gonna make you play or anything but CG: it’d be cool if you did CG: y’know CG: just so i’m not the only weirdo CC: ... CG: so if milo asks, um CG: yeah CC: ... ok. i’ll play. CC: i think milo wants the two of us to connect anyways. CG: awesome CG: i gotta go talk to him anyways, ugh CC: hey, he’s not so bad. CC: he’s... nice. CG: alright alright CG: i’m out i’ll catch you later CC: i’ll be here. CG: seeya
--captainGunslinger [CG] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]--
CG: so CG: i’ve got some stuff i need to talk to you about AG: Oh? AG: I mean, hi. AG: And also, oh? CG: yeah so TA just contacted me CG: she’s got a thing she needs to go to CG: so she said it’s fine to start the game without her. AG: Hmm, okay... AG: We’ll need her fairly soon, though. AG: You should stick around too, Jim. CG: why? CG: it’s a connection basis right CG: and based on what you told me earlier TA’s got nothing to worry about she’s setting up like third to last AG: Plans change. AG: Like I told you they would. AG: You’re not connecting to Jane anymore, you’re connecting to me.
Oh my god. For a smart guy, Milo is a real dumbass. This conversation is slowly deteriorating into a hellhole of a chat like you knew it would.
CG: okay we’ll address that later but CG: remember that first conversation about this we had? CG: because you seem to have forgotten about the time i told you that jane’s “acronym doppelganger” or whatever the fuck you’re calling that guy can probably READ OUR PESTERLOGS AG: !!! CG: god you moron AG: Hey! CG: that’s why we came up with the plan in the first place CG: you’re lucky jane’s coming on soon so you can get this shit started CG: maybe he won’t have time to read all this shit before we start playing AG: Okay, okay, I effed up. Sorry. CG: just fucking tell me the new order already CG: i don’t think that guy cares too much about our pesterlogs since it’s mostly fighting AG: I think you’re right, since he’s never mentioned the fact that you told me to change plans. AG: But then, why did you even mention TA being last-ish, since you knew the order would change? AG: Heck, you’re the one who planned for the order to change. CG: didn’t want to blow our cover CG: can’t be too careful, you never know where he’s snooping AG: Sometimes I feel like you’re a little paranoid. CG: whatever CG: cover’s blown now so just spit it out AG: Well, I won’t tell you the full order. AG: But Jane’s going to start first, and I’ll connect to her, and you’ll connect to me. CG: i already hate this you should’ve put me in charge of this shit AG: As you like to say, “whatever.” CG: who’s connecting to me
Please don’t be...
AG: TA.
Fuck.
CG: i fucking hate you too CG: alright i gotta take my mind off this bullshit for a while CG: contact me when i should connect to you. AG: Okay.
You sit there, stewing in your anger. You can’t believe him. Seriously. YOU should be the one in charge of this operation, not some half-baked linguist. You probably would be if you were more well-liked.
But Jane playing first... does that mean Milo put her in charge? That’d be better, you guess. You respect Jane.
Better check this other message that’s been sitting there for, like, half an hour.
--azazelsConstruct [AC] began pestering captainGunslinger [CG]--
AC: Um, hi, Jim AC: So AC: Game day, eh? AC: It’s about time, really AC: GT’s been pestering me to switch teams for like a week now... AC: I’ve gotta admit, I’ve been a little tempted AC: He’s my bud, y’know? AC: But so are you and CA, and well AC: You guys asked me first AC: Bud, I see you online, where are you? AC: Oh wait, you’re probably off wooing TA AC: Since I know how much you ~LOVE HER~ AC: Hahahaha... AC: Shit, I think I hear my dad coming AC: You know how he is AC: Poor guy got a toothpick for a son AC: Hell, I could probably be HIS toothpick AC: But I gotta go or else I’m so dead AC: Seeya!
Ugh. It’s a shame you missed him. AC’s a smart guy you can deal with; he’s got an actual smart mouth, unlike the ultra-vanilla Milo. Man, thinking about Milo gets you irritated again, and onto aggravated thoughts about TA and her shenanigans. Somewhere between being annoyed and brooding, you are actually a little worried about her. Her dad’s a nice guy, from what you’ve heard, but seems to hold her on an extremely tight leash. Her missing her dad’s concert today would probably bode extremely ill for her. You hope she’s okay.
You can’t get your butt online, you’re too busy being in trouble! But you do have time for an introduction page.
Your name is ARIEL TRITON and boy are you EXCITED (though not so much right now, but you’ll get to that later). In fact, you are excited by nearly EVERYTHING in life – so long as it’s NEW and INTERESTING. You just like INTERESTING THINGS in general. You COLLECT things – GADGETS, GIZMOS, WHOOZITS, WHATSITS, even THINGABOBS (you think you’ve got TWENTY of those). So long as it’s UNUSUAL or from a FOREIGN PLACE, it’s probably in your room! You consider yourself an EXPERT on the things you collect, but in reality you just MAKE UP NAMES AND HISTORIES for the things you’ve got and hope it sounds cool. You also have a fondness for STATUES, especially of NICE-LOOKING BOYS. You really like to SING as well, and will often BURST INTO SONG even if it is uncalled for. Finally, you are an EXCELLENT SWIMMER, but you’re not too fond of swimming anymore – you’ve basically been an ATHLETIC SWIMMER since you were born, and you’ve long since grown tired of the sport.
Your room is bright and colorful; the TEAL WALLS are plastered with POSTERS of PLACES you’ve never been to – Ireland, India, Japan, Bolivia, Ghana, Nepal, Hawaii, you name it! SHEET MUSIC is strewn about the floor – along with various SHINY THINGS, like COINS and KNICK KNACKS and SILVERWARE (mostly FORKS). STONE BUSTS and STATUES of CHISELED MEN sit on shelves and in corners, and you ROMANCE them in your free time. You also own a PET FISH named FLOUNDER, who is currently swimming in his rather large FISHBOWL.
You are ever so excited for this video game everyone’s talking about! You know, as the HEIRESS to your father’s quite expansive swimwear empire, that you shouldn’t be so caught up in frivolous things. But you are such a HEARTY DORK about things in general that you don’t seem to mind. Besides, there’s fun to be had with your friends.
Your handle is troublesomeAquatic, and you speak with a lot of tildes~ and emoticons : D and less-than-pristine grammar.
Right now, though, you are in a HEAPLOAD OF TROUBLE, as your handle might suggest. Your father is banging on the door to room just as your hand rests on the handle, and you bite your lip as you anxiously ponder how to handle him and the situation.
You decide the best way to get your dad to stop hammering on your door is to try and appease him with conversation. You slowly open the door just so you can poke your face out a little bit and say “Daddy – ”
BANG.
Your dad flings the door open, and its inertia caused it to hit your wall with surprising force. He glares down at you, his arms folded in supreme disapproval. You wince a little bit, brushing some of your hair behind one ear, but stand your ground.
“ARIEL,” he thunders. “You said you were going to drive separately and meet us there! I give you an INCH of responsibility, and you prove to me that I can’t even give you that!”
“Daddy, I’m sorry, I just forgot.” Yeah, this one-sided shouting match is painful, but you’ve been through many before, and you can handle it. A bright young woman like you can get herself in plenty of trouble, and you’re pretty sure you’ve faced the most lectures of any of your sisters. You’re genuinely sorry, and you really did forget – but your mind’s wandering back to your computer again, wondering if Jim’s waiting for you.
Your father isn’t through, though. He rages on, “You are an irresponsible daughter and I’m tired of your head being up in the clouds!” His eyes dart behind her to where her laptop sits, whirring quietly and awaiting her return. A sense of foreboding suddenly washes over you at the manic anger in his eyes, and where he’s directed his glare.
“Daddy – ”
“You spend all your time on that... that good-for-nothing contraption,” he continues, his voice a little softer but somehow even more threatening. “What do you even do on it?” His pupils contract as a new idea hits him, an idea that fills him with even more rage. “Ariel, are you talking to strangers?”
Oh no. Oh shit. You know your dad has a huge problem with talking to people over the Internet. He’s convinced everybody is a stalker out to rape you. “N-no, Daddy, I just – I have a few friends – ” You step in front of him in an attempt to divert his gaze, but he brushes you impatiently aside and strides forward.
To your horror, he inspects the chat log that was recently open – the chat with Jim. “Who’s this?” he snaps. “Ariel, were you flirting with this stranger?”
You can barely talk through the lump of fear that’s risen in your throat, but your anger gives you enough strength to power through. You lunge forward, grabbing your dad’s arm and attempting to pull him away from the computer, though he doesn’t budge. “No, Daddy, he’s my friend, his name is Jim and – ”
“He gave you his name?”
“I – ”
“Does he know yours?”
You stop mid-protest, choking on another “no, daddy.” You can’t lie to your father, but he’s furious enough already without you adding onto it. You don’t say anything – but the silence is telling enough. He tears his ferociously disappointed gaze away from you and slams the lid of your laptop shut.
“No more of these distractions, these friends. I knew giving you a laptop for your sixteenth birthday was a bad idea... From now on, you will use the main computer for school work only.”
You gasp, hurt and upset and angry by the injustice of it all. He tucks your laptop under his arm, not looking at you, and heads to the door.
“Daddy, give it back! Please!”
You beg as loudly as you can, but he gives no sign that he heard you. He stops at the threshold of your door, not turning around, and delivers his final sentence for you.
“And you’re grounded. For a month, at least.”
You gape at him as he slams the door behind him, and though it’s quiet, you can hear the muffled click of the lock on the other side. Being a stern, controlling father, he had locks installed on the doors for on the outside rather than the inside.
You’re officially stuck. And the game’s starting soon.
You can’t break out, you’ve been locked in! Well, you can’t break out yet. You just have to be creative about it.
You slump down onto your bed, wiping your eyes in frustration. You’re angry, but you’re also hurt and upset too. Still, you’ve got to pull yourself together; there’s no point in sitting around and waiting for a miracle. If you’re gonna get outta here and play that game, you’ve gotta figure it out yourself.
Though it wouldn’t hurt to consult one of your friends...
You’re suddenly struck with an idea. You fish into the pockets of your jeans and pull out your phone. You only have a few contacts – your dad, all of your sisters, and one other. The other is your best friend of pretty much all time, and you exchanged numbers a long time ago. You’ve avoided contacting him, though, because you’re not sure if your dad can read your texts or not, and this friend of yours is an internet friend. You have each others’ numbers in case of an emergency. Like right now.
You’re not quite sure if texting your friend is going to help you break out, but at least it’s a way to make sure Milo eventually gets the message that you’re in a bit of a tight spot and can’t start playing yet. You select AT [accidentalThunder] from your list of contacts and start texting him.
TA: hey AT!! TA: cant rly talk r/n its n emrgncy TA: so im jst gnna get 2 th point AT: oh hi Ariel! AT: this is a nice surprise. : D AT: oh wait, it’s an emergency, what’s wrong? TA: dad grnded me n took cmptr TA: tell milo that i cant strt plyin rit away AT: plying? huh? AT: ... oooooooh playing. oh okay duh. of course. TA: lol ur alwys so distrctd hehe TA: k i gtg br8k outta my room AT: wait, what??? TA: ttyl <3
You shove the phone in your back pocket, ignoring it when it vibrates again. AT can wait. Hopefully he’ll pass on the message. If the worst comes to worst, you can download the chat client onto your phone – but you don’t think you’ll be able to download a video game onto it too, so you figure the best thing to do is sneak onto the main computer, and when you get a chance, search for your laptop.
You walk over to the window and throw it open, the warm summery breeze wafting inside. Your house is huge, practically a palace in its own right. Your sisters are probably still out at the concert hall, cleaning up or something; however, it’s just down the street, and they’ll be home in no time, making the place harder to sneak around in.
You make sure you’ve got your FORKKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS with you. You don’t have much in the way of weaponry – just the trusty SEA COOK, a three foot long silver trident that seems rather utensil-like than majestic, as opposed to your father’s KING TRIDENT. Still, it works for you!
Without further ado, you slip out the window to begin scaling the rooftops. It’s not that difficult, considering how large the house is, and considering that you find yourself needing to sneak out once in a while, so you’ve got plenty of practice. Besides, the bathroom window is very close to your own, making the journey short (if precarious).
You reach the bathroom window with little incident (though you nearly lost your footing around the bend back there). It’s open, inviting in the warm breeze. If it had been closed, you would at least know how to open it, though it would be a little tricky. You pause, your arms wrapped around one of the peculiar spires protruding from the roof, and stick one of your legs in the inside of the window. Carefully, holding your breath, you swing your other leg inside. Lodging your toes beneath the interior window sill, you grit your teeth, muster up all your strength, and push yourself as hard as you can backwards off the spire. It works – you fall into the open window, your head banging the top of it a little bit, and you fall awkwardly on your ass.
Okay, so it wasn’t so graceful, but you’re free now, right? Sprawled on the bathroom floor, you rub the top of your head and wince a little bit; that’s gonna be a bruise. You listen, wondering if any of the servants in the palace heard the fall, but after a few long moments without incident, you figure it’s all right to stand up.
You pull your phone out of your back pocket – and your heart sinks a little when you look at it. The side of the screen is cracked, no doubt the result of your fall. You tap it a couple of times to see if it still works – yes, it does! Looks like you got a couple of messages from AT while you were out scaling the building. You figure you’re safe for the moment, so you pause to read the messages, squinting to discern the text through the cracks.
AT: you’re br8king AT: i mean, breaking, AT: out of your room? why? AT: ariel, what’s going on, are you all right?? AT: did your father ground you again?? AT: you’re not climbing on the roof again, are you??? AT: ariel that’s dangerous, please be carefkdhogisohaginaoeraoighoeiruowiahgeoiehg
You frown at the gibberish. That can’t be good. You’ve seen that sort of thing happen once before, and it happened right as AT was breaking his phone from excitement or some other adrenaline-inducing emotion. Guy doesn’t know his own strength...
You send him a final text – “AT im fine u ok?? : O” – but you don’t expect to hear back from him. Guess that really means you’re on your own. You tuck your phone away and open the bathroom door as silently as possible, peering down the narrow third floor hallway.
You’ve got a long descent.
You, the reader, suppose that “Ariel: Descend” would probably be a really great segue into the little not-so-mermaid’s ninja adventures through the house. In fact, based on that last sentence, you pretty much expect it! But, unfortunately, there are still eight more characters to introduce, so the story of Ariel creeping around is going to have to wait.