arsenicCatnip is no longer available to pester
centaursTesticle is no longer available to pester
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apocalypseArisen is no longer available to pester
cuttlefishCuller is no longer available to pester
caligulasAquarium is no longer available to pester
terminallyCapricious is no longer available to pester
adiosToreador is no longer available to pester
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carcinoGeneticist is no longer available to pester
They had always been there, for as long as you could remember. Twelve idle Chumhandles that wouldn't light up no matter what you did. Hell, they seemed to be completely inactive, not just idle. As if the holders were in a place that you couldn't connect to. Your mind liked to imagine a far off Galaxy, on a planet filled with strange, somewhat violent Aliens. But you knew that was just fantasy, because after all, aliens didn't exist right? Neither did magic, or anything like that. It was all just child's play, and you were much too old for that now.
But at the age of 13, when the Chumhandles had first appeared on your screen, you liked to believe that they truly were something magical, or extraterrestrial. As you grew up though, and the years wore on you realised that that was stupid. You also realised that it was silly to keep idle Chumhandles on your friends list. You knew you should delete them, or block them or something... but, for some reason, you couldn't. You always hesitated once your mouse was over the 'Delete Chum From List' button, or the 'Block' button, and you couldn't go through with it.
Even now, at the age of 18, when you were in college, you still hadn't been able to delete those twelve strangers from your friends list. They still sat there, names unlit and dim against the rest of the screen. Something in your heart made you keep them there – a feeling as if it would be wrong to say goodbye lingered in your brain and kept you from that final push.
One day, you always told yourself, one day you would do it.
You knew you never would though.
Sometimes, you would hope that the names would light up, and that you'd be able to talk to these mysterious friends that you never remembered making. Other times, you just wished you would wake up one day and they'd be gone, along with the sinking feeling you got in your heart each time you'd try to open a chat with one of them and get the same 'no longer available to pester' message come up over and over again.
You'd tried consulting Dave about it – about these weird Chums – but the Texan had no clue what you were on about. He said he didn't have anything like that on his Pesterchum app. Weird, you had thought that maybe he'd have them too... You often wondered what had possessed you to think that.
You never bothered asking Jade or Rose, like you had planned. You figured you'd get the same response.
Another year went by. And another. And soon you were 20 and just moving in to your own small little apartment just outside of your University with Dave, who had transferred from his own University in Texas so he could be with you after his Bro died and untimely death. The first few months were hard, and Dave tried to pretend he was ok, that the death didn't bother him, but you could tell he was faking.
During this time, you often got a feeling of déjà vu.
But that was impossibly, after all, someone couldn't die twice, right?
Things soon mellowed out and the two of you fell into a nice little life of going to university, coming home, taking turns with cooking (Dave's turn was usually just ordering in) and then watching crappy T.V shows or doing essays and assignments until one or both of you crashed. You were finally content, and you almost forgot all about those twelve Chumhandles sitting dead on your laptop.
It was the day before your 21st birthday when you were reminded of them. You were up late finishing off an assignment that was due in the next day when you laptop dinged alerting you to a new message. You assumed it was either Jade or Rose. Or it might be Dave being a dick and trying to distract you from your work. You open your Pesterchum app with bored eyes, expecting the familiar purple, green or red of your friends.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]
CG: HEY? IS ANYONE THERE? ALTERNIA TO FUCKASS? IS THIS THING WORKING OR DID THAT NOOKSNIFFER ROYALLY FUCK UP? BECAUSE I HAVE THE DISTINCT FEELING I AM TALKING TO A HUGE PIECE OF DEAD FUCKING SPACE RIGHT NOW.
You blinked once and looked at the list of twelve unavailable Chumhandles that have remained dead in the side bar for nearly seven years. One is lit up.
carcinoGeneticist is online
You look back to the message that has been sent. Something is familiar about the large grey capitals and the strange insults which appear on the screen, but you can't place where you know them from... hesitantly, you reply.
EB: no, i am here.
There is no reply for a few minutes.
CG: FUCK... JOHN? IS THAT REALLY YOU? ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT SOLLUX ACTUALLY FUCKING FIXED THIS THING? I DON'T BELIEVE IT.
He (She? You have this distinct feeling that it's a boy) knows your name. How?
EB: how do you know my name?
Another pause. You begin to think that you won't get an answer when a ding draws your attention back to the screen with a snap.
CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DO I KNOW YOUR NAME? THIS IS NO TIME FOR PRANKS JOHN I AM FINALLY GETTING TO SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN AFTER NEARLY SEVEN HUMAN YEARS THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS ACT LIKE YOU ARE HAPPY TO SEE ME.
Speak to you again...?
But you've never spoken before.
A part of your brain screams that you have, you have, but it is quiet, and almost undetectable. You begin to type again, eyebrows furrowed.
EB: i am not pulling a prank on you, um, CG? i honestly have never spoken to you before... have you got me confused with somebody else?
The voice is not so quiet now – it's screaming at you to remember, remember, remember. But remember what? What is it you are supposed to remember? You feel a headache forming – fuzzy images and muffled voices pressing against you skull.
CG: NO, OF COURSE I
Remember.
CG: I
Remember.
CG: YOU
REMEMBER!
You press your hands either side of your head, eyes screwing shut as the pain worsens. More images are forcing their way into your brain, fighting to become clear. The voices – so many conversations. Too many. You feel as if you may explode. It's so loud. So loud that you think briefly that maybe Dave can hear it in his room. Stop, it hurts. STOP.
CG: YOU REALLY DON'T REMEMBER, DO YOU?
CG: I'M SORRY FOR BOTHERING YOU, I GUESS. IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN.
Ugh, the images, the voices, it hurts so much. You grit your teeth. Why won't they go away. You drop your head to your dead, hands gripping in your hair. Stop, stop, STOP PLEASE.
CG: I JUST WANT TO SAY ONE LAST THING BEFORE I GO
CG: I DIDN'T GET TO SAY IT LAST TIME, BECAUSE FUCK I NEVER EXPECTED THAT TO BE OUR LAST CONVERSATION
CG: BUT, IT WAS KIND OF NICE TO MEET YOU
CG: AND
CG: GOODBYE, JOHN
Suddenly, your head is filled with white noise, and the images begin to sharpen, the voices gaining definition, and in one burst everything comes rushing back. You feel tears sting your eyes and you release your head slowly, head raising and blue orbs wide as you stare at the screen. You remember. You remember, you remember, you REMEMBER!
carcinoGeneticist is no longer available to pester
"Karkat."
You remember...
Does this count as Sadstuck?