MSPA fan fiction 2

[raequiem]

@Nanakii: It came about during a discussion on dA when I realized I only ship Jade with people who are assholes/severely damaged/both. And yesss, the choppy makes me twitch too, but I was trying out a different style and it's a WIP and bluh bluh excuses I'll fix it.

@gosh: Really? More of this? I dunno... we'll see.



@SotL: My reaction was the same as John's: Huh bluh whuh? (But in the best possible way.)

[Red Pen]

So this chapter is mostly dialogue. But it's dialogue that's setting us up for action later, so there's that. (This story is nearing its climax and I am excited!)

Previously, on Unhinged...
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Unhinged - part 12

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With the utmost care, his mouth skewed in concentration, the Courtyard Droll folded his final invitation and slipped it into its matching purple-and-gold envelope before stacking it neatly atop the other three. He stepped back from his desk and examined the little pile approvingly, while somewhere behind him Draconian slouched quietly on a chair in the corner with a cigarette slowly burning down between his fingers, occasionally taking a drag and exhaling slowly, making the room hazy with smoke.

As a higher-level agent the Droll got his own office, but it was a small, cramped one off one of the low-traffic hallways. He liked to think of it as "cozy". It had everything he needed: his chair, its legs cut short about halfway up their length so his feet could reach the ground; his desk, currently piled high with streamers and party decorations; his little desk ornament with the silvery ball-bearings that went clack. And four invitations, settled proudly right in the midst of it all.

With a small smile, Droll picked up the topmost envelope once again and wandered over to where the Dignitary was sitting. The tall Dersite's eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with an eerie, controlled slowness. Droll's smile faltered slightly: Draconian's breathing only sounded like that when he was trying very hard not to be absolutely furious. Hesitantly, Droll reached up and tugged on his sleeve.

"Don't touch my suit."

"Sorry, Draconian," Droll said quickly, his hand snapping back.

Draconian opened his eyes and tilted his head back to breathe a stream of cigarette smoke into the air. "It's always the sleeves. You and Jack both, always ruining the sleeves."

"Are you mad?"

"...no."

"I think you are," said Droll, carefully. "You're doing that thing you do where you breathe real slow. And you keep acting really calm and then you stab somebody."

A long silence, and then, "He gave her my office."

"I know. I just told you a little bit ago, remember?"

"He gave her my office and he didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face. I had to hear it from you." Draconian rolled the cigarette between his fingers with an expression that those who didn't know him well would have called introspective. To Droll, who knew what thoughts went on beneath that perpetually irritated face, it was an expression of black, soul-crushing rage. "I suppose I know why. He's still furious at me for bringing her here, and he's trying to punish me. Look, Draconian, at how well your brilliant plan is working. Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Hmph." He dropped the cigarette and ground it into the floor with his heel. "Petty bastard."

Droll gave him a slightly worried look. "Maybe he just wanted to do something nice for Rose?"

"He gave her my office."

"Well, she'll need a bigger office now that she's the archagent."

Draconian sighed and put a hand to his temple. "Oh god, tell me you're joking."

"No, he told me she's the archagent now, and we have to do what she says! Except not everything she says because she's still kind of a prisoner so we can't let her out or anything like that."

"He made her his archagent and he gave her my office. Are there any other decrees Jack's made lately that he hasn't bothered to tell me about?" There was a definite tone of annoyance in the Dignitary's voice, and the Courtyard Droll took a cautious step backwards before answering.

"Well, um... He also said you're not supposed to talk to her anymore."

"He can't be serious about this," Draconian muttered. "He hasn't slept in days; he's not thinking clearly. He can't just make her an archagent."

"He probably can, though. He's the king, so he can pretty much do whatever he wants."

Draconian shook his head. "But he really isn't thinking clearly, is he?"

"Um, what?"

"Droll, does Jack seem... different to you, since he became king?"

The little Dersite considered. "Well, he has wings now."

"No, I mean... He's so run-down all the time, and all this paranoia... I know Jack had some anger issues before, but never anything like this. I'm starting to think that the queen's ring really is hurting him somehow."

"If it hurt, wouldn't he take it off?"

A resigned sigh from Draconian. "To be honest, Droll, I don't think he would." He gazed distantly into the smoky air for a moment. "Why is it that I can hate Jack so much on days like this, and yet I feel compelled to go out of my way to keep him alive?"

"I think that's called friendship, Draconian."

"Maybe the better question would be: why am I going to you, of all people, for advice?"

"Because you and Jack are mad at each other, and Hegemonic..." Droll trailed off, and the two of them were silent for a moment.

"Draconian?" said Droll, after a while. "Do... Do you miss him a lot?"

"Do you?"

Droll looked down at the purple envelope in his hands. "It doesn't really feel like he's gone. I keep forgetting and thinking he'll be in his office, or at that bar where we all used to play jazz before Jack became the king, and then he isn't, and I think it's okay because he's just somewhere else." He gave Draconian a slightly ashamed look. "I know I should miss him more because he's never coming back. But that's what it feels like. Like he's just somewhere else."

He saw Draconian's eyes rest for a moment on the streamers strewn across his desk. "Well, that's a shame. He's going to miss out on a great memorial."

With a grin, Droll proffered the envelope. "I made invitations for everybody. This one is yours."

"Thanks, Droll," Draconian murmured absentmindedly, taking the invitation and getting to his feet. "I think I'm going to go talk to Jack."

"Oh! Um... don't stab him, okay?" Droll shuffled his feet a little nervously. "Even if you're really mad."

Draconian hesitated, standing in the doorway, and then he turned around, whipped his switchblade out of nowhere, and buried it deeply in the wood of Droll's desk with a dull thunk. Droll made a small, startled noise.

"There. Now I couldn't if I wanted to."

"...Is that really your only knife, Draconian?" the Courtyard Droll asked, unconvinced.

Yet another irritated sigh from the Dignitary. "No." He pulled his usual gleaming arsenal of blades from his sleeves and all the unobtrusive little hidden pockets of his coat, and a small pile of deadly weaponry joined the party streamers atop Droll's desk. "There. Now I couldn't if I wanted to. And believe me, I want to."

He walked out as calmly as ever, but Droll felt oddly apprehensive as he remembered that a furious Draconian was about to confront an equally furious Jack. Things like this had never ended well even before one of the crew obtained godlike powers.

But the little Dersite was distracted a moment later by the other three invitations he still had to deliver. He hurried over to his desk and pushed a few knives aside to pick them up. One for himself: he resolutely laid the envelope down on his desk again, smiling at a delivery well made. One for Jack, but with the Sovereign Slayer's current mood it might be best not to drop that one off just yet. Maybe he'd deliver the fourth and final envelope instead, the one on which he'd neatly printed the name "Rose Lalonde".

Invitation clutched tightly in his hands, the Courtyard Droll scurried off down the hallway, towards what had once been Draconian's office.

- - - - - - - - - -

"So they asked what I wanted to be called, and I thought, if it was John, what's the stupidest, most nerdy thing he could say right now?"

"And?"

"And then I thought, okay, but if the answer absolutely couldn't be 'Nic Cage," what would he say?"

"And you picked Timelord Darth Vader? That's really the only thing you could come up with?"

"No, you don't get it. It's ironically awful." Dave was seated atop Rose's desk, idly flipping through some of her files and looking at the doodles Jack had done in the margins while Rose leaned back in her office chair, her feet propped up next to him. "Besides, watching them say that with a straight face is hilarious."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's nice to know that you're being constructive with your new resistance force. I'd hate to think you were wasting time actually trying to free the people of Derse from Jack's tyrannical rule."

"I thought you were doing that? I'm just here to fetch you pens. I'm like Dave the wonderdog over here; you've got me trained."

"Yes Dave, you've caught me. Your entire life I've been psychologically conditioning you to bring me pens."

"Knew it." He tossed something into her lap: a stiff white quill pen, tall and elegant-looking. "And I know you were just saying that to get rid of me for a while, but look at that! I went and got you one anyway because I'm pretty much the greatest friend you'll ever have."

Rose picked the quill up carefully between her thumb and forefinger and examined it, feeling oddly grateful. "Thank you, Dave." She had a desk drawer full of pens now, but she didn't mention that to him. There was something wonderful about knowing that Dave was around, and willing to help her out with even the most inconsequential little things.

"Rose? Are you getting choked up over a pen?"

"No," she said, and quickly changed the subject. "What's this written on it?" Her fingers traced the words engraved into the shaft of the feather. "Tectrix of the Arbitor?"

Dave shrugged. "Maybe it's latin for 'really fancy pen.'" He put the stack of files down at last and turned his attention to her. "Okay, so I've told you what I've been doing. Now tell me about this crazy plan of yours that's so important that you can't possibly leave even thought there is literally an open window right over there."

Rose leaned forward and set the pen on her desk so she could rest her chin in her hands. "Oh, where do I begin? I suppose the short version of the story is that... They wanted me to become Jack Noir's therapist, and instead I decided to gain his trust and slowly drive him insane."

"Yeah, now I have to hear the long version."

A smile flickered across Rose's face. "Then make yourself comfortable; you're going to be here a while."

- - - - - - - - - -

Standing in the hallway, his hand hanging motionless in the air, frozen in the act of knocking, The Courtyard Droll stared at Rose's door, listening to the rise and fall of the voices within. The memorial invitation slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, unnoticed.

They wanted me to become Jack Noir's therapist, and instead I decided to gain his trust and slowly drive him insane.

By the time Rose had finished laying out the details of her plan, he was racing through the palace hallways as fast as his stubbly little legs could carry him.

[KarneWarrior]

Gestation 134: Designation; Four of Spades

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A tube hisses open. Fluids gush to the floor in a light blue waterfall. With them they carry a slim black form. Virgin lungs crackle as they take in their first breath of air, shaking with the effort.

These are the first things I can remember.

I am designation Four of Spades, made to be the ultimate fighter in the front lines. What that means is that I was bred to be really good at fighting, but I wasn't meant to be one of the elite.

My first days are filled with memories of language and eating. They weren't matronly; Derse never took care of the Pawns like me. But they kept me alive, and after I found out what they put up with I can thatnk them for that.

The bishops, you see, were manufactured on the same meteor, in the same lab. And Bishops go through a initial stage of feral fury, and they lay waste to anything they can. Then, after they're killed once, they can be brought back and made into mindless machines of war.

Pawns only had one life, though, so we were given our own minds. I guess I should feel lucky for that. If you think about it, it wasn't really that bad for me there. Working for Derse would have been acceptable had I been concerned for me and only me.

But see to tame the bishops sacrifices had to be made. Rebellious pawns, malfuctioning Rooks. Three of Hearts.

I couldn't accept the loss of Three of Hearts. They killed her coldly to gather another weapon of war. I should have seen it coming; threes were not known for being submissive, and those that were got demoted quick. Three of Hearts had it coming, I guess.

Still. As I write this she lays beside me. We're on the battlefield, Rogues. Outcasts. Exiles.

I can see the Jack coming at us. She's waking up. We're going to fight him, even if it means we die. Even if it means-

Nothing else remains.

[nightmarechild]

Bluh.

Revenge:

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-- gardenGnostic [GG] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] --

AA: what is this?
GG: your friend made me mad so now i am getting revenge
GG: revenge!
AA: h0w d0es this inv0lve me?
GG: don't worry you won't regret it, you might actually like it!
AA: i d0ubt it but it can n0t hurt.
AA: what d0 y0u need of me?
GG: just read this http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._P._Lovecraft
AA: ...

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling gardenGnostic [GG] --

GG: he he he!

[KilroyWasHere]

More Unhinged! Joyous day!

...Aw, poor CD. He won't get the satisfaction of a delivery well made!

Also I laughed more than is healthy at "Revenge".

[nightmarechild]

Now imagine Aradia with a Grinch style smile and giggling like her old self again while reading about horrible terrors!

[Douhneill]

Now imagine Aradia with a Grinch style smile and giggling like her old self again while reading about horrible terrors!

Damnit now I'm gonna have Dr. Seuss quotes in my head all of tomorrow. Thanks a lot.

[raequiem]

@Red Pen: Yay, Unhinged! Why so adorable, CD? Why so effing adorable?

@Karne: ... please sir, may I have some more? </fauxbrit>

@Nightmare: This is my very favorite shortfic. Jade, you devious little witch, you.

[Quixotic]

@Red Pen: Dangit, Rose, this is why you never casually relate your evil plan to someone out loud. In other news, yay, more Unhinged! You're kind of making me feel alarmingly sympathetic to Draconian and Droll. It's a weird feeling.

[Ember]

Unhiiiiiiinged. Red Pen, just... thank you. This makes my day every time it updates. I love the story and everyone in it aaaah.

And, yeah, if she's going to be playing at being Archagent of Derse, she really should have brushed up on the ol' Evil Overlord List. Come on, you two, I know it's an emotional moment, but you're generally more genre savvy than this.

[One]

Regicide, part 2:

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Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of chitinous feet hitting stone quickly silenced the murmuring crowd, despite how soft it was. They may all be united under a common cause, but no man on Derse wished to anger the Archagent, especially if he had his sword with him.

Jack Noir observed his army of followers from his balcony. A lectern had been placed on it, and on that, a speech, written in the Dignitary's curling script. The cold hatred in his eyes was almost palpable; more than a few shivered with apprehension as they felt his gaze.

It was really quite an impressive sight. Slightly less than a third of Derse had come, dressed in black and white. All of them bore the symbol of the revolution somewhere on their clothes: a scratched-out crown sewn on clothes or emblazoned on armbands or worn on headbands. A few carried banners with the symbol, made of tattered, colorful cloth. And though they were concealed, all of them carried weapons.

Jack even spotted a number of Agents mixed with the populace; they, too, hated the Queen's tyranny. They stood at attention, as still as statues.

There were other revolutionaries, more bloody-minded rebels back on the mainland. But to avoid the Queen's prying eyes, he would have to begin his war here.
Goddamned lousy speeches. When he was in charge he'd have the Dignitary do the speaking.

He leaned on the lectern and took a breath, scanning his speech. The crowd somehow drew back and leaned forward simultaneously. A spiny hand went to his Regisword and clenched it, tightly. It was a security thing.
Then he spoke.

"We've all had our fair share of suffering from the Queen," he read. "Punishment. Hard labor. Ridiculous outfits." His voice echoed around the crowded city streets. "But nobody has ever dared stand up to her."

"You've lived, cold and miserable, while she sits on her throne, unheeding and uncaring. I have worked endless stacks of paperwork, while she forces increasingly unbearable uniforms on me and those who work under me."

"But we have never, ever tried to revolt. We were too fearful to. Because while we have our weapons and motivation, she has the Ring."

"Has the King ever helped us? No. He, the only man who matches the Queen in power, remains tied up in his wars on Skaia."

A clawed finger pointed to a dot of blue in a sky of blackness. "Does he even care of our plight?"

"It must end!" His hand balled into a fist and slammed the lectern, his face a frighteningly feral snarl.

"The King and Queen must die! And we will be the ones to kill them! We will not beg for Prospit to aid us. We will do this deed ourselves!"

He unsheathes his Regisword and slashes downward. The black blade bites deeply into the lectern.

"The Queen's own vanity will be her end! I will kill her personally, within her own palace. And with the Queen's own power, we shall bring about the downfall of the King!"

"On this day, we will put an end to our oppression, once and for all!"

The Draconian Dignitary whispers into his walkie-talkie, "Mark."

And all hell breaks loose.

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Up next: explosions.

[Quixotic]

Back with chapter four! Vriska's head is a strange place, and I do not desire to go there again soon.

Enjoy!

Conquest
Chapter One: The Mess You Left
Chapter Two: Black and Red
Chapter Three: Our Work Is Never Over

Chapter Four: The Games We Play

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Vriska opened her door, and Terezi was outside.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

It was the tone that got her. It wasn't 'let's talk' or even 'we need to talk'. It was simply 'can we talk?' A question, not a demand. Maybe even a plea. Vriska gave her the once over skeptically. Terezi was wearing the black tanktop and cargo pants that represented the fleet's leisure uniform, only her Threshecutioner's jacket was pulled loosely around her shoulders. She looked tired.

Vriska considered herself a pretty cold bitch, but there were some temptations even she couldn't resist. Glancing down the hallway as if checking to be sure that no one was watching, she pulled open the door of her respiteblock for her age-old frenemy.

"Get in here," she said, and that was all that was needed.

Terezi entered with less bounce in her step than Vriska was accustomed to observing, drudging more than walking over to the couch. Vriska shut the door behind them, and followed after the Pyrope with crossed arms. Oh God, whatever the story was here, it had better be good.

"So what is your deal, exactly...?" she asked as Terezi settled gingerly down on the couch.

"Something's come up," Terezi said, "that I think you need to hear about." She paused there, and if Vriska didn't know better she would have thought it was purely for dramatic effect.

"So...what is it?" she snapped, having none of it. Terezi laughed humorlessly.

"Did you happen to get any new orders today?" she asked.

Vriska's insides instantly went cold. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Explain."

"Heheh, I thought so," Terezi replied, leaning back. "I can see you're about as impressed as I was. Which is not very."

"What are they even thinking?" Vriska growled, throwing her hands in the air. "It's a useless rock in space! Not to mention completely primitive. A battle with them will be over in about eight seconds flat. Hell, I bet me and the Ketchup and Mustard Squad could go in there and devastate the whole planet single handedly. Or at least until one of them wets themselves and starts crying. And even then we'd be schooling the whole civilization to such a completely ridiculous degree that even I'd feel a little bit guilty."

"You're holding back, Vriska," Terezi drawled. "Why don't you let loose and tell me how you really feel."

"Shut up! Point being, the stupid monkies won't even know what's coming. It'll be a thankless bloodbath, is what it'll be." She dropped down onto the arm of the couch, fury suddenly transmuted to an almost childlike frown. "And for negligible loot, too."

"But we know the loot isn't really what it's about in this situation, don't we? You and I." Terezi attempted a grin, but it came across more as a bearing of fangs.

"Yes, we do!" Vriska continued, not losing an ounce of momentum. At least, until she realized that she wasn't sure what motive Terezi was specifically alluding to. But, damn it! She didn't want to sound like she knew anything less about the situation. That'd just be embarrassing. "But, what were you thinking the motive was specifically? I wanna make sure you know as much as you think you do."

"Oh, of course." She batted her hand, not missing a beat. "I'll run this by you and let you tell me what you think. What is on that planet that has special relevance to exactly twelve of us and no one else?"

"Well duh! But why would Command care about that? And why would Peixes go after them? I thought she was on our side."

"I'm-" Terezi began, but stopped halfway through like something was distracting her. She shifted around, wincing, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch. "I'm not so sure about that anymore, Vriska. Something here stinks. Want to help me find it?"

Vriska scowled, looking Terezi over again.

"Um, yeah, sure - but why the hell do you keep moving around like that? It's like you've got a gut worm up your ass." Bending over the arm of the couch, she grabbed the bottom of Terezi's tank top and yanked it upwards.

"Whoa, Vriska!" Terezi yelped, choking out a laugh. "Slow down!"

"What is this?" Vriska kept the shirt held up, pointing at the poorly applied wrapping of bandages she's just found. Turquoise blood seeped through the white, in a pattern that covered most of the other troll's side. "What's with the back alley first aid job? What were you even doing?"

"Nothing! Just got into a little scuffle is all."

"Well, you can at least wrap it up right! Geez, do I have to do everything for you?" Storming away from the couch in indignation, Vriska went to grab the standard issue first aid kit from the drawer beside her recuperacoon. She was already opening it as she came back, shaking her head and tsking in irritation. "All that time in Thresher school and you didn't even learn how to wrap up a hole in your gut?"

"We're really more about making holes than fixing them."

"Hush!"

Terezi obeyed without much further complaint as Vriska went to work patching her up. She even held her shirt in place as Vriska slathered on a layer of purple sealing gel and bound it up as neatly as possible. The wound underneath looked like it must have been done with a bladed weapon - a long, thin line of crusted blue-green blood. Another Threshecutioner?

As she worked, Vriska put a half-hearted effort into probing Terezi's mind. As usually, she was unable to dig much deeper than the distant surface. There was no even touching the thoughts of Terezi Pyrope. But while it was impossible to get specifics, there was something strange there. Whatever was turning around in Pyrope's head, it was something fiercely intense...and focused. Sharper than anything she'd every felt in someone's head before.

While mostly just adding another piece of confusion to the whole encounter, it did make Vriska think. Maybe things were as serious as Terezi was making them out to be.

"There," she said when she was finished, finally leaning away. "See how much better that is?"

"Thanks Vriska," Terezi said quietly, looking down. Of course, Terezi rarely actually looked at someone when she was talking, because of the fact that all of that sensory input went in through her noise. But there was something about the look on her face that was driving Vriska absolutely wild inside. What was that? Exhaustion? Dejection? What?

"ARG!" Vriska cried, hurling herself onto her feet. "I swear you do this just to torture me! First you start ignoring all of our blatant black chemistry for that stupid mutant and now you come crawling back like this? Looking for pity or something? I don't even know what you're doing! You're like the queen of mixed signals, Pyrope! It's like you've got all the signals in a mixing bowl, and you're whipping them up something terrible!"

Terezi pulled herself to her feet in front of her, suddenly way too close for comfort. She held a single finger to Vriska's lips, hushing her gently.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," Vriska started defensively. "It's my respiteblock and I'm talking here-"

Instead of a finger, this time Terezi used her lips.

Vriska's first reaction was surprise, where all her muscles went tense, caught between impulses to escape and pursue. But as Terezi wrapped her arms around her waist and pull her in closer, all thoughts of leaving were swiftly replaced with frustrated lust and delicious, delicious outrage.

Just as she was really getting into it, Terezi pulled away, bringing up a small printed card between them.

"Check out these coordinates," she said. "You'll find some answers."

"I...what...I don't want your stupid card, Terezi!" Yet someone she found it in her hand as Terezi pulled away, slipping on her jacket and getting ready to leave.

"If you want to help stop this 'thankless bloodbath' from happening, you really do."

"None of these things you're saying are making any sense! Why would Feferi Peixes want to attack Earth?"

Terezi stopped at the doorway, hesitating. She turned around. "Look into the coordinates. Ask for 'June'. You'll figure it out." She winked. "I believe in you."

"Whatever! Fine! I'll think about it, and take my damn time while I'm at it!"

"Sure, but you should hurry," Terezi added as she left. "According to orders, the alpha strike against Earth is happening two days from now."

"Yeah?" Vriska shouted as the door closed in her face. "Well maybe you should stop being such a Goddamn tease!"

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And so the sudden make-outs begin!!!

[Derp]

Uh midnight crew thing

@Red Pen: Oh yessssssssss


Left Behind

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To be perfectly honest, they were fucked. It was a stupid goddamn idea from Slick in the first place to just go charging into the Felt Manor without any real sort of plan. But it was too late now to think of what they should have done, and now was the time to think of what they can do to get out of it. They had that goddamn under-bite of a man Trace who would find their hiding spot any second, and there were only two ways out, one down a hallway full of Felt, and the other down a hallway full of Felt. No matter how you looked at the situation, they were fucked.

“Good fucking job,” Droog hissed out, pointing his gun at Slick. They were cramped, All of them sitting down While Boxcars wrapped around them in the tiny pantry that was the quickest place for them to hide. The boxes and cans pressed against everyone’s sides, they couldn’t even shift without making a racket. With every breath, every expansion of their chests the space got smaller and smaller, and Droog was starting to feel the claustrophobia pressing down in him. “Bravo, this is your best plan yet,”

“Shut up, you bastard,” Slick snaps back, but it’s obvious that he’s feeling the panic as well. They weren’t expecting Fin to be right there waiting for them the second they got to the top of the Mansion, but they never expected anything that bastard did. Their time powers were a cheat that they used in lieu of actual skill, but that didn’t make it any easier to fight them. “Look, we can still get out of this, we just have to stop fucking panicking,”

“Maybe if you hadn’t decided to cram all four of us in here we’d have a better chance-“ Boxcars piped in, taking another breath, causing the shelf above them to creak. “Even if we did try to make a run for it it’s not like we can just burst out of here.” He had a point. It took them a while to get comfortable in the pantry, and it would probably take the same amount of time to untangle themselves, and they’d be full of more holes than Swiss cheese before even one of them could stand up.

“Maybes aren’t helping anything, Tubby,” Slick growls, careful to keep his voice low. “What we have to do is figure out a way to get out of here in mostly one piece”

“You mean so you’re in one piece,” Droog interjected, shoving Slick. “This is all your fault because of that stupid vendetta of yours against Snowman, just because—“

“NO I mean-“ Boxcars crushes his foot on Slicks, as a warning to quiet down “No, I mean so the Crew gets out in one piece. We can’t do anything if we aren’t together,” He closes his eyes, pulling down on his hat. “Fuck let me think… Maybe Deuce… he’s small enough. He could crawl up onto another shelf… he’s small enough, right?”

“What are you getting at?” Droog says, suddenly sounding anxious.

Slicks arms gestured about as he tried to explain what he was getting at. Boxcars grunted when Slick smacked him in the face accidently. “I mean… he could stand up and open the door quickly, get out, cause a distraction, and they all go running after him, while we—“

Droog punches Slick in the nose. “That is the stupidest goddamn idea. And even if it weren’t, we are not letting him go alone in the Manor”

“What are we supposed to do?!” He hisses, feeling Boxcars grab hold of each of their collars, making sure they don’t get into too big of a fight. He sniffs up a drop of blood dripping down his face, squinting his eyes.

“I’m not letting you put him into that much danger. It’s not good for him, he could die out there. You could get maimed, but he’s… How could that even cross your mind?!”

Slick winces. “Okay okay okay, sorry, no, you’re right…”

“Excuse me?” The smallest voice pipes up. They had almost forgotten that Deuce was sitting between the two of them. “There’s a ventilation shaft up there. I could crawl through there and throw them off your trail by coming through another door,”

Slick looks down, and the second Droog see’s his leader’s face he starts to speak. “No Deuce. No one needs to go out as bait. We can get through this together.”

“But I can do it!” Deuce insists, his wide eyes looking up at him, almost glowing in that dim light. “Really, I can! I’m useful! They can’t catch me for long, I can escape even if they do catch me! I can handle anything they throw at me, really!”

“I don’t want you to die, Deuce,” Droog says, looking genuinely concerned. “I know you think you can do it-“ They are cut short when they hear a familiar voice singing a maddeningly catchy tune. Even Boxcars stops breathing as the little man skips through the outside hallway. Hit toes tap, even against the carpeted surface, and Slick is careful to keep as still as possible.

“I have a feeling that our little intruders just might be around here,” He says out loud, to himself. Deuce looks at the rest of them, and before Droog can stop him he climbs up the shelves, and through the vent. They can hear his feet tap against the ceiling until he disappears, and the last three just stay there silently, Droog shooting daggers at Slick through his glare. Slick just shrugged, looking worried himself, but pushes a finger over his mouth to keep Droog from talking.

“I might as well check every door~” The little man sings, and they hear a door open. “Hello? No one here” The door slams. He opens the next one. Right now all they could do was pray, or hope that Deuce could actually do it.

Droog pulls out a machine gun and quietly begins to load it, Boxcars and Slick staring at him and wincing with every click the machinery makes, watching him slowly cock the weapon. Clover walks closer and closer to their closet, and they can see his shadow beneath the door. Droog carefully starts to aim it at the door, when there is a yell from the top floor.

“THEY’RE HERE, WE FOUND THE RATS!” Slick perks up while Droog tenses, distress etched across his face. It was that spooky bastard, Die who yelled and they can see Clover hesitate. He starts to turn the doorknob despite this, but they hear a patter of other feet reach him before the door opens up.

“Hey, Lucky, come on they’re upstairs and we’re going to need your little charm to make sure we can murder the whole lot,” Itchy speaks so quickly they can barely understand him, and the shadow is scooped up into the air as their number one whisks him to the top floor.

They take a second to breathe before Slick kicks the door open, helps Boxcars and Droog out and make a mad dash for their getaway car. When they finally make it out the doors with only that dipshit Doze spotting them, Droog hops into the drivers seat. Deuce wasn’t waiting for them, and the commotion at the top of the mansion died down. The others pile in, looking at Droog expectantly as his head stays craned back, looking at those double doors.

“Wait, he’ll come,” Droog says, keeping his hand on the ignition, hesitating to turn the key.

“We have to go Droog, they’re going to catch up on us!” Slick says, sitting shotgun and peering out the window.

“Just wait,” Droog keeps looking at the mansion, waiting for Deuce’s little body to emerge, running so fast you’d swear that his ass was on fire. “He’ll be here, they’ve never caught him before. He’s just lost in the hallways, or setting up a bomb to get the bastards,”

“Listen to Slick, we have to go,” Boxcars says, placing a hand on Droog’s shoulder. “We can get him later when we’re prepared, it’s suicide to go back for him or to wait any longer,”

They wait for ten more seconds before Droog turns the key and floors it, the tires squealing while they speed away. Droog keeps looking over his shoulder until they can no longer see the green stain on the horizon. Slick turns on his radio and calls Deuce, not expecting a reply, but sending out a call because he knew that if Droog had both hands free that’s what he’d be doing.

They drive back to the hideout in silence, and once they get down the manhole Droog locks himself in his room. Slick and Boxcars sit silently around the plans, listening to the other call Deuce on his two-way radio over and over and over, until four hours later when the batteries finally die.

[mewtant-307k]

@Quixotic - Do I even have to say it? I am so digging this fic...you are fantastic at creating suspense and mystery, especially concerning Terezi's nigh unreadable actions. What is up with this confused girl? I don't know, BUT I LIKE IT.

[sebastian]

@quixotic: what is your game, Terezi? (also, HOT!!)

[BPrinny]

Back with chapter four! Vriska's head is a strange place, and I do not desire to go there again soon.

Enjoy!

Conquest
Chapter One: The Mess You Left
Chapter Two: Black and Red
Chapter Three: Our Work Is Never Over

Chapter Four: The Games We Play

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Vriska opened her door, and Terezi was outside.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

It was the tone that got her. It wasn't 'let's talk' or even 'we need to talk'. It was simply 'can we talk?' A question, not a demand. Maybe even a plea. Vriska gave her the once over skeptically. Terezi was wearing the black tanktop and cargo pants that represented the fleet's leisure uniform, only her Threshecutioner's jacket was pulled loosely around her shoulders. She looked tired.

Vriska considered herself a pretty cold bitch, but there were some temptations even she couldn't resist. Glancing down the hallway as if checking to be sure that no one was watching, she pulled open the door of her respiteblock for her age-old frenemy.

"Get in here," she said, and that was all that was needed.

Terezi entered with less bounce in her step than Vriska was accustomed to observing, drudging more than walking over to the couch. Vriska shut the door behind them, and followed after the Pyrope with crossed arms. Oh God, whatever the story was here, it had better be good.

"So what is your deal, exactly...?" she asked as Terezi settled gingerly down on the couch.

"Something's come up," Terezi said, "that I think you need to hear about." She paused there, and if Vriska didn't know better she would have thought it was purely for dramatic effect.

"So...what is it?" she snapped, having none of it. Terezi laughed humorlessly.

"Did you happen to get any new orders today?" she asked.

Vriska's insides instantly went cold. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Explain."

"Heheh, I thought so," Terezi replied, leaning back. "I can see you're about as impressed as I was. Which is not very."

"What are they even thinking?" Vriska growled, throwing her hands in the air. "It's a useless rock in space! Not to mention completely primitive. A battle with them will be over in about eight seconds flat. Hell, I bet me and the Ketchup and Mustard Squad could go in there and devastate the whole planet single handedly. Or at least until one of them wets themselves and starts crying. And even then we'd be schooling the whole civilization to such a completely ridiculous degree that even I'd feel a little bit guilty."

"You're holding back, Vriska," Terezi drawled. "Why don't you let loose and tell me how you really feel."

"Shut up! Point being, the stupid monkies won't even know what's coming. It'll be a thankless bloodbath, is what it'll be." She dropped down onto the arm of the couch, fury suddenly transmuted to an almost childlike frown. "And for negligible loot, too."

"But we know the loot isn't really what it's about in this situation, don't we? You and I." Terezi attempted a grin, but it came across more as a bearing of fangs.

"Yes, we do!" Vriska continued, not losing an ounce of momentum. At least, until she realized that she wasn't sure what motive Terezi was specifically alluding to. But, damn it! She didn't want to sound like she knew anything less about the situation. That'd just be embarrassing. "But, what were you thinking the motive was specifically? I wanna make sure you know as much as you think you do."

"Oh, of course." She batted her hand, not missing a beat. "I'll run this by you and let you tell me what you think. What is on that planet that has special relevance to exactly twelve of us and no one else?"

"Well duh! But why would Command care about that? And why would Peixes go after them? I thought she was on our side."

"I'm-" Terezi began, but stopped halfway through like something was distracting her. She shifted around, wincing, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch. "I'm not so sure about that anymore, Vriska. Something here stinks. Want to help me find it?"

Vriska scowled, looking Terezi over again.

"Um, yeah, sure - but why the hell do you keep moving around like that? It's like you've got a gut worm up your ass." Bending over the arm of the couch, she grabbed the bottom of Terezi's tank top and yanked it upwards.

"Whoa, Vriska!" Terezi yelped, choking out a laugh. "Slow down!"

"What is this?" Vriska kept the shirt held up, pointing at the poorly applied wrapping of bandages she's just found. Turquoise blood seeped through the white, in a pattern that covered most of the other troll's side. "What's with the back alley first aid job? What were you even doing?"

"Nothing! Just got into a little scuffle is all."

"Well, you can at least wrap it up right! Geez, do I have to do everything for you?" Storming away from the couch in indignation, Vriska went to grab the standard issue first aid kit from the drawer beside her recuperacoon. She was already opening it as she came back, shaking her head and tsking in irritation. "All that time in Thresher school and you didn't even learn how to wrap up a hole in your gut?"

"We're really more about making holes than fixing them."

"Hush!"

Terezi obeyed without much further complaint as Vriska went to work patching her up. She even held her shirt in place as Vriska slathered on a layer of purple sealing gel and bound it up as neatly as possible. The wound underneath looked like it must have been done with a bladed weapon - a long, thin line of crusted blue-green blood. Another Threshecutioner?

As she worked, Vriska put a half-hearted effort into probing Terezi's mind. As usually, she was unable to dig much deeper than the distant surface. There was no even touching the thoughts of Terezi Pyrope. But while it was impossible to get specifics, there was something strange there. Whatever was turning around in Pyrope's head, it was something fiercely intense...and focused. Sharper than anything she'd every felt in someone's head before.

While mostly just adding another piece of confusion to the whole encounter, it did make Vriska think. Maybe things were as serious as Terezi was making them out to be.

"There," she said when she was finished, finally leaning away. "See how much better that is?"

"Thanks Vriska," Terezi said quietly, looking down. Of course, Terezi rarely actually looked at someone when she was talking, because of the fact that all of that sensory input went in through her noise. But there was something about the look on her face that was driving Vriska absolutely wild inside. What was that? Exhaustion? Dejection? What?

"ARG!" Vriska cried, hurling herself onto her feet. "I swear you do this just to torture me! First you start ignoring all of our blatant black chemistry for that stupid mutant and now you come crawling back like this? Looking for pity or something? I don't even know what you're doing! You're like the queen of mixed signals, Pyrope! It's like you've got all the signals in a mixing bowl, and you're whipping them up something terrible!"

Terezi pulled herself to her feet in front of her, suddenly way too close for comfort. She held a single finger to Vriska's lips, hushing her gently.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," Vriska started defensively. "It's my respiteblock and I'm talking here-"

Instead of a finger, this time Terezi used her lips.

Vriska's first reaction was surprise, where all her muscles went tense, caught between impulses to escape and pursue. But as Terezi wrapped her arms around her waist and pull her in closer, all thoughts of leaving were swiftly replaced with frustrated lust and delicious, delicious outrage.

Just as she was really getting into it, Terezi pulled away, bringing up a small printed card between them.

"Check out these coordinates," she said. "You'll find some answers."

"I...what...I don't want your stupid card, Terezi!" Yet someone she found it in her hand as Terezi pulled away, slipping on her jacket and getting ready to leave.

"If you want to help stop this 'thankless bloodbath' from happening, you really do."

"None of these things you're saying are making any sense! Why would Feferi Peixes want to attack Earth?"

Terezi stopped at the doorway, hesitating. She turned around. "Look into the coordinates. Ask for 'June'. You'll figure it out." She winked. "I believe in you."

"Whatever! Fine! I'll think about it, and take my damn time while I'm at it!"

"Sure, but you should hurry," Terezi added as she left. "According to orders, the alpha strike against Earth is happening two days from now."

"Yeah?" Vriska shouted as the door closed in her face. "Well maybe you should stop being such a Goddamn tease!"

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And so the sudden make-outs begin!!!

I knew sloppy makeouts would happen eventually. Keep writing.

Also, here's a thing:

Huntress

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Tavros wheeled down the dark corridors of the meteor facility, occasionally glancing behind him, trying to glance at the one that was chasing him. He didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean she wasn't there; There had been more than one occasion where he didn't notice her until he heard her breathing behind him, and every time he turned to look, she was gone.

The trolls hadn't even been at the laboratory very long when she had started hunting them; perhaps the stress of the situation had just gotten to her, or maybe she didn't want the demon to be the one to kill them. Maybe this was just the way she had always been, and no one had realized it until now.

Taking a corner to sharply, Tavros tilted over and spilled out of his four-wheeled device. Slamming his head into the ground, stars flashed across his eyesight for a second, then the world came back into focus. A shadow loomed over Tavros and a chill went down the part of his spine that he still felt. He struggled to turn over, and terror crawled across his face.

AT: uH, cOULD YOU, mAYBE NOT,
AT: kILL ME,
AT: pLEASE,
AC: :33 H33 h33 h33!
AC: :33 Tavros, your horns are so pawesome!

Nepeta leaned in until Tavros could see himself reflected in her eyes. She grinned, and her teeth were stained with a rainbow.

AC: :33 I can't wait to wear them! >:33

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Influenced by evil!Nepeta fanart.

[Hollymonster]

Uhh, so I guess I'm writing an AU fic now? Based on a what-if scenario where Noirlecrow and the kids had to team up to fight off an even bigger threat.

Also I'm using the Lord Jacklish theory. And silly headcanon accents.

The Times They Are A Changin', Part 1 of ???

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He was going to fucking kill him.

He flew over the Rift, the tattered remmnants of his on-hand Cairo Overcoat fluttering behind him like lurid, omni-colored-and-green ribbons. He'd refused to take the ragged thing off, much like the remains of his original "uniform", despite the fact that they both hurt his eyes. They reminded him of two things: How far he'd come. And what he'd had before that fucking smug traitorous bastard had staged his cute little coup.

He wasn't too amazed the Bitch had something to do with it, though. Hell, he wasn't nearly as mad at her as he was at that round-headed git. He'd downright expected her to pull something like this when she found out who he was, and had definitely expected her to not be pleased to know that her death would cause him to be freed from his prison. That didn't matter, though. From his perspective in the timeline, it had already happened. No, he wasn't quite as mad at her for this.

Scratch, though? He was going to crack his shiny white head open and drink the innards. Right after he got the missing chunk of his power back. Fuck, if he could figure out a way to get to him and do it before that, he'd do it. Either way, Doc Scratch was going to learn not to fuck with Lord English.

His headset shrilled with the announcement of an incoming call, causing him to wince. It used to simply beep, but something had changed it to a high-pitched trill that hurt his ears (more than likely exacebated thanks to the cat part of the prototyping). He had a feeling the Witch had fucked with it on purpose. The HUD, also part of the headset, flashed up a lavender window. "Seer."

"You've been out a while." The girl's voice sounded tired. He couldn't really blame her, considering that while the Gods that resided there were still amiable enough, the Furthest Ring was no longer safe. Not with the First Guardians of every world now prowling it. And the Gods could only kill so many of them. "Just making sure you're not dead. Have you seen Dave? John could use some backup in the Land of Pulse and-"

Of course she'd ask him that. If any of them didn't know where the Knight was, they'd come running to ask him when he was. "He's about four minutes ago, on the Land of Heat and Clockwork as fucking usual. I'll deal with it." He shut off communication abrubtly, changing direction from towards the land in question.

Fucking Heir. It was always the fucking Heir, he thought as he winged his way towards the candy-red-blood planet. The doofy little bastard was always, always running into fucking trouble or getting himself into fights too big for him to handle by himself, and he was the one who always had to wade in and save him, even if it meant wasting his precious looking-for-a-rift-back-to-Alternia-to-wreak-vengeance-on-his-power-stealing-lieutennant-time. He knew they existed - how else would Scratch be able to send First Guardians after them? - but the fucker was very good at hiding them.

He hadn't found one yet, but it was just a matter of time. And he had plenty of time on his hands.

----

His suit was covered with blood. It wasn't his - it was from the blood waterfall he was currently behind, groping around for his hammer. But dammit, he <i>liked</i> this suit! It made him look snazzy. Imp oil washed out much easier than Karkat's Land's blood.

He was just thankful the First Guardian things didn't ooze anything or bleed. He was pretty sure whatever those things would bleed would be radioactive and decidedly not wash out of his awesome suit.

But he couldn't think about that for long. Not while he was trying to recover the Warhammer of Zillyhoo from behind a waterfall of blood and hoping those three remaining white jerks didn't-

A flash of sun-bright green, and a hissing, alabaster beast resembling a cross between a raven and a stag appeared before him just as his fingers closed around the handle of his weapon. It was slippery with blood, and there was no way he was going to be able to weild the damn thing properly until it at least dried out enough to be unpleasantly sticky. If he hadn't known for certain it wasn't going to make the slightest dent on a First Guardian, he'd have just switched to the Wrinklefucker. (He still kept that old thing in his sylladex, mostly for nostalgic purposes.)

Thankfully, he'd been the Heir of Breath long enough - Indeed, three years is much longer than most people who play Sburb and its equivelants keep their titles - to have more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

He used to have to focus hard to pull tricks like this off. These days, it came almost as easy as breathing.

The wind in front of the waterfall - or was it a bloodfall? - picked up abruptly to gale speed - hard enough to force the cascade of liquid backwards and directly onto the face of the monstrous beast. He'd learned through trial, error and experience that while they didn't have any visible eyes, a facefull of blood was still enough to obscure the vision of most First Guardians. Unless they were a hybrid with something with eyes on its butt or something. But they hadn't encountered too many of those sort of monsters.

As the Guardian stumbled backwards, squawking and shaking the ichor from its face, John focused the air pressure around himself, letting the wind pick him up, out of the pool of blood, up and away.

It wasn't much like flying. Rose had taken him flying a few times, and that felt more controlled by far. This was more like being tossed a long distance, only with more style.

He landed on his feet, back to a cliff and hammer in hand. He was going to need it - He'd seen the green flashes of light caused by Guardian teleportation. The other two Guardians had seen his escape from the deer-bird-gryphon thing, and were doubtless on their way to intercept him.

And there they were - One, two flashes - then the third, salmon-pinkish streaks of blood still tinging its plumage in places.

Four, five, six, seven, eight.... Oh. They'd found backup. Crap crap craaap!~ He thought, readying his weapon as best he could - it was still too slippery with blood to use properly, despite him using his powers to blow air against the handle in an attempt to dry it quicker - and was likely to slide out of his hands as soon as he swung it. He glared defiantly at the advancing monsters, trying his level best to ignore the pit of dread manifesting itself in his gut. He really wished that Dave would hurry up and get his butt to a more helping-him position---

Then he spotted the winged, tentacled, and rapidly advancing figure in the sky. Oh, hey, that works too. John grinned, the awful feeling in his gut dissipating somewhat.

The two guardians making up the rear of the group never knew what hit them. In seconds, one was cleaved in two by Jack's first strike, the other lost both heads on his second. The others managed to scatter in time to dodge the charge, leaving the heavily augmented Dersite to land at John's side, sneering in irritation. "Why the fuck is it every time I go off an' do my own thing you get intae trouble?" Jack growled, his dumb accent a welcome sound given the situation. "It's no' like you cannae beat them when I'm not on my own time."

"Geez, Jack, calm the hell down." Zillyhoo's handle had finally dried enough for him to weild, and he did so, swinging it swiftly into the deerbirdgryphon's skull. "I didn't plan on this or anything. It's not like I woke up this morning and went 'You know what would be an awesome idea? Nearly getting killed, getting bloodstains on my suit and pissing Jack off by cutting into his revenge time!'. None of those are awesome ideas."

Jack sliced the belly of a porcupine-like Guardian open, the green innards dissolving into vapor as the creature fell to the ground dying. "Whatever. I thought y' wouldnae be fucking stupid enough to take on eight at once on your own, by the way-"

"I thought there were only three at the time, okay?" He yelled over the dying squawks of the deerbird-Guardian. "Turned out they had backup nearby, and then I guess that backup called for MORE backup, and-" A tentacle shot over his head, catching the massive raccoon-ish Guardian that had been attempting to sneak up on him around the neck and slamming it hard into the cliff wall, stunning it long enough for him to cave its skull in. "Thanks!... But yeah, it kind of escalated, okay?!" The bucktoothed youth rolled his eyes, knocking the legs out from under one of the remaining guardians. "And quit bitching, seriously. Even if you did miss a rift to Scratch, there's-" He brought his hammer down on the skull of the Guardian that resembled a long-finned, levitating dolphin, causing a spray of green aura. "- there's always gonna be another. Besides, hearing you whine about killing things is like hearing Willy Wonka whine about candy."

Jack threw the strangled, lifeless corpse of the last of the guardians into the nearest blood pool, narrowing his one good eye at the boy. "Aye, maybe. But I know Scratch. He's only likely to make a mistake like that once. I'd rather no' miss that chance because I had to come and stop you gettin' killed."

"You didn't have to, seriously." He snorted, retrieving a flask of water and a towel from his sylladex and utilising them in an attempt to clean Zillyhoo's handle to a point where it wasn't either impossible or kinda gross to use. He hoped there would be enough water left afterwards to clean himself off somewhat after that. "I didn't ask Rose to specifically ask you. I figured she'd ask Jade or Karkat or-"

"They were a' busy, and of course she'd come to me when Dave couldnae be found." Jack snapped, spreading his wings, evidently meaning to take off any second, either to resume his search for a rift or to head back to the Veil.

"And what about whenever someone shows up right after you do? Like that one time in the Land Of Little Cubes and Tea. Vriska and Tavros showed up like practically ten seconds after you did. It's not like I can't hold out ten more seconds in a fight, Jack."

For a moment, the former Sovereign Slayer looked as if he was going to give a legitimate answer, but all that greeted the Heir was a derisive snort and a gust of air as Jack's wings propelled him skywards.

It didn't bother John too much. He had a feeling he knew the answer, anyway.

---

The four of them advanced on the broken figure, weapons in hand.

He couldn't even risk using the Ring. The fourth orb occasionally sparked with what might have been electricity had it not been decidedly green-tinged. He was exhausted, and so bruised from the swarming First Guardians that he could barely move. His agents, all long dead. His Cairo Overcoat, in shreds.

And his fucking backstabbing, slimy, good-as-dead lieutenant...

All he could do was glare defiantly up at the quartet of heroes. He wasn't an idiot. He'd killed entire planets trying to kill them, even killed their other selves once or twice. He knew what came next.

"...Well? Do it."

The dark-haired human girl - the Witch, he recalled - glared with an intensity that, if tangible, could have done what he was asking of them. She stepped forward, drawing her weapon from her sylladex--

"Jade, wait."

Both he and the Witch stared at the Heir as if he'd suddenly sprouted a salamander head. The boy stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the fallen demon so the two of them were eye to eye.

"So I guess your second-in-command screwed you over, huh?" No response. "Look, we... We don't stand a chance against those things alone, even as tough as we are now. We're exhausted. And judging by how beat up you are, even you can't take on that many in your state either."

The Heir held out a hand.

"But... look, if we team up, we might have a chance in hell against those devilbeasts. I know you want revenge against the jerkass that sent them here. We're gonna open a Scratch between our session and our friend's session, and-"

"John!" the Witch cried, voice full of horror and anger. He couldn't really blame her, he supposed. "We can't-- Not with that murderer!Don't you remember the things he's done?!"

"Yeah, I do. But he isn't trying to kill us now. We beat him, remember?"

"He's got a point, y'know." The Knight interjected. "It ain't him that killed John's dad-bro and Rose's mom." He was surprised the Knight was taking the Heir's side, especially after his brother had died at the beaten Dersite's hand. But he had been facing him one-on-one, and had been armed.... not taken by surprise and vaporized by several oppenents at once. Although if he'd known the truth about that fucking puppet, he'd have vaporized THAT.

"And what about Prospit? The people on the battlefield?!"

"They're dead. We're alive, and even if it means collaborating with an old nemesis, I would very much like to remain alive." The Seer said. "John's right. We can't face so many of those First Guardians alone. We'll need help."

"C'mon, Jade, if we killed him while he's all beat up like this, it makes us just as bad." The heir said.

"I... I really don't trust him." The Witch said, sighing in frustration. "But I trust you, John. If you say we should team up, I guess it's worth a shot, right?"

He sneered, but he'd made his decision. He'd take a shot at revenge over just kneeling down and waiting to be killed by a bunch of brats any day.

Plus, it was nice that the kid admitted they needed him.

He took the boy's outstretched hand.

[Author]

6AM is the best time for shortfics. THE BEST.

Also, Alpha & Omega should continue when I get back.

Schizophrenic

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The blood. It was everywhere, everywhere. He couldn't take it anymore. This feeling, this feeling of being unwanted, loathed, and spat on. This feeling that he wasn't good enough, good enough for her. There was a real reason he was pissed at Dave. A real reason he was angry at John. A reason for everything he did, everything he hid. But he couldn't show it. If he did, they might leave. Might go away. And he couldn't let that happen could he? It might end... badly. He needed to fix it. Fix everything. Fix Rose lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Fix Kanaya hanging from the roof. Fix Vriska and John, covered in blood with gashes on the wall above them. Fix Dave's rage at him, fix Jade's hatred of him. But he couldn't. He couldn't keep them apart, anymore then he himself wasn't a part of this. He loved the feeling of... power that coursed through him when he cut them. When he ripped them. But he knew it would end soon enough. Dave had established his time loop. Soon all hell would break loose, right over his head. And all he could do was laugh.

Laugh at the fact that they thought they could keep him here.

Laugh at the silence emitted by their fears.

Laugh at the anger they felt towards him, the anger he knew Aradia and Dave would fix.

And then cry. Cry at his terrible ideas.

Cry at how he always, always relied on others to fix his problems.

Cry at how nobody could fix him.

Cry at how he hadn't meant to kill John. It was suppose to be an offer. An offer of an eternal, glorious, rivalry. But he'd opened the door, and Vriska was there, and it had all gone downhill.

He hadn't meant to kill Rose either. He'd wanted comfort, opened the door, and then it was all blurry. At least he hadn't killed Kanaya. She did that herself. But Jade stopped talking to him after John died, and everyone grew worried. And he had to, had to pick them off one by one... right? Otherwise they would tell the others what they knew. And he couldn't have that could he? It would ruin the plan, the plan that he'd created. Right John? Right? If I don't do this thing you'll refuse my rivalry. Won't you? So I have to kill them, not for me but...

For us.

Crazy Karkat is CRAAAAAAAAZY.

And yes, I did mean to switch arbitrarily into First Person.

That wasn't an accident.

[geeP]

Left Behind

You're not fooling anyone with the tense cliffhanger, we all know that the only possible outcome is Deuce having a series of Home Alone-esque escapades throughout the Felt mansion.

[Hollymonster]

Left Behind

You're not fooling anyone with the tense cliffhanger, we all know that the only possible outcome is Deuce having a series of Home Alone-esque escapades throughout the Felt mansion.

...Please tell me this actually happens.

[Kawa]

> Kawa: chicken out at the last moment

Naaah, let's save part 4 until after dinner.

Population: 12
Part 3 of 4

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TT: Vantas
CG: WHAT IS IT?
TT: If you could tear your matesprit away from the immediate vicinity of your stomach
TT: I would like to request that you remove your pants.
CG: WAIT WHAT!!?
TT: If this is going to work out according to plan, I need to know what exactly a "bone bulge", as you call it, is supposed to be.
TG: woah okay im glad not to be in the same room as you two
TG: i dont think id want to see what the trolls have down there
GC: H3H3H3H3H
CG: TEREZI, COULD YOU POSSIBLY SHOVE MORE GOGDAMNED IMPLICATIONS INTO FOUR FUCKING SYLLABLES???
GC: R3L444X K4RKL3S

gardenGnostic [GG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

EB: oh hello sis!
GG: hiii!!!
GG: i was just looking over daves shoulder.....
GG: and i was thinking about what to expect
CG: OH, I GUESS I CAN KEEP MY PANTS ON A LITTLE LONGER THEN
CG: THANK FUCK FOR THAT
GG: who knows?
GG: anyway, the way i see it
GG: troll reproduction before the mother grub and stuff was probably not that different from the way we humans do it!
GC: WO4H, 4R3 YOU SH1TT1NG M3?
GG: not at all!
GG: i mean, you have breasts right?
GC: ...
GC: OH Y34H, TH4T'S WH4T HUM4NS C4LL TH3M!
CG: HOW COULD YOU FORGET THAT? I'VE BEEN CALLING THEM THAT FOR THREE YEARS NOW TEREZI.
CG: I LIKE THAT WORD. IT'S SO MUCH EASIER THAN "FRONTAL MOUNDS".
TG: and ofcourse the cavalcade of synonyms.
TG: ironically frontal mounds has been creeping into the english vernacular
TG: you wont catch me saying that to jade though
GG: yeah right!!
TG: those puppies deserve a better term than that
GG: and "puppies" is better......how??
TG:
GG: anyway, as i was trying to say
GG: why would you have breasts when you dont nurse your young???
GC: B3C4US3 TH3Y LOOK GOOD? >
CG: DUMBASS HAS A POINT
GG: actually, she doesn't!
GG: your species is tens of thousands of years old and we know for a fact that the whole mother grub thing didn't start until later, right?
CG: RIGHT, AND THANKS FOR ACKNOWLEDGING THAT.
GG: what i'm thinking is, and this is just a theory mind you.....
GG: ...is that way back then, trolls reproduced and raised their young in a fashion not unlike ours!!!
GG: i can see it already!
GG: terezi breastfeeding a little grub
GG: so cute!!
GC: YOU 4R3 ON3 STR4NG3 YOUNG L4DY.
GG: perhaps i am!
GG: but for us earth mammals, we developed breasts and assorted animal-specific analogues precisely to wean our young!!
CG: I FIND MYSELF REMINDED OF PONYFONDLER'S OLD LUSUS...
GC: YOU M34N 4URTHOUR?
CG: EXACTLY! FREAK OF NATURE THAT WAS, HE HAD UDDERS.
GC: OH 3333W 1S TH4T WH3R3 3QU1US GOT 4LL TH4T M1LK??!
EB: i just threw up a little
TT: I think you meant "joke of nature", not "freak".
GG: aaaanywaaaay
GG: i think that if karkat were to drop his pants
GG: and i would like to note that i need not see that
GG: this mysterious "bone bulge" will be much less alien than we would have previously thought!
GG: i mean come on people, he even uses it in his ramblings in all the right places!!!
CG: SERIOUSLY? I WASN'T AWARE OF THAT.
TG: hold on i got this
TG: CG: WELL IF YOU ASK ME, THEY CAN ALL SUCK MY HEAVING BONE BULGE! I'M TOO BUSY FOR THIS SHIT!
TG: and one replace later we get an unmistakable and thankfully sarcastic fellatio invitation
TG: isnt the english language grand
TT: Now that that's out of the way, be a dear and drop those pants, Fourpack.
CG: TO BORROW A PHRASE, I THINK YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT I'M NOT ENTIRELY 0KAY WITH THIS.
GC: Y34H, TH3 CLUMSY FUMBL1NG G1V3S TH4T 4W4Y
CG: THAT'S NOT! FUCKING! HELPING!!

TG: wait just a tick
TG: how is he undressing and typing at the same time?!
TT: Oh if only you could see the webcam feed.
EB: too bad cirque du soleil isn't hiring

A/N:

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Are breasts okay?

[Wigmund]

So many good fics, I especially can't wait for the next parts of Conquest and P12.

A/N:

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Are breasts okay?

When are they not okay?

[Shadow of the Lotus]

If you're ever unsure on whether something is appropriate or not, the best bit of advice is to PM it to one of the moderators for review (specifying that's why you're PMing it, of course. Don't just send a PM with only the story and no explanation; that's just confusing). I'd guess that Zuki would be more than happy to look over anything?

[Kawa]

Back from dinner. I'm not gonna bother with the PMs -- I've got chickening out to do:

Population: 12
Part 4 of 4, safe version.

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CG: OKAY, I TOOK THEM OFF.
CG: TEREZI! DON'T TOUCH THAT! I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'VE BEEN!
KCCCHHCHCHCCCHHHCHCHHCHHZHZZZHZZZZZ
JC: And now for something completely different
MP: It's...
KCCHCHCHCCHCCZZZZZZHZHZZZZ
Squiddle-de-dee, squiddle-de-dum
Everyone sing a squiddly song~
KCHCHCHCZCHCHCHCZHCH
??: Today it was exactly three years ago that a young lady walked into the US Senate and proclaimed herself Empress over a small settlement of ostensibly extra-terrestrial beings holed up somewhere in Nevada...
KZCHCHCHHCCHZZZZZZZZZ
LC: Hey kids! Are you ready to go on a wonderful adventure? HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!
KKKZZKZZZZTTTTCHCHCHCH
JS: Can you imagine what would've happened if the Senate didn't buy it?
??: so this litle lady strong-arms herself into the building, says she's an alien empress and we're expected to believe that just because she has a nice dress and lots of jewelry?
??: DAT'S NOT A TOONAH
CA?: no, you're expected to believve it because of THIS, landdwweller!
A short clip from "Mars Attacks" plays right after "Eridan" pulls out "Ahab's Crosshairs". Mr. Stewart's audience cracks up.
KSZZZZZHHSHSHHHHZZZ
??: Mister Dawkins, how do you feel about the Troll's claim to be the creators of the universe?
RD: I've heard a lot of creation myths, and I've always considered it impossible to know what happened in the very beginning - how the universe itself started. The Trolls have about as much right to claim they started it by beating some freak video game as anybody else, and I respect that.
??: Do you think this will help in your fight against religion?
RD: I would not call it a "fight" per se but regardless, I doubt the pope will stay awake at night over all of this. A bit of a shame if you ask me; I would've liked to see that.
KRRRCHCHCHCHCZZZZZZZ
Let's all be friends and work as a team
Squiddles fo-ooorrrrr yoooouuuu, s... q... u... i... d... d... l... e... s... ÍA ÍA FLTHULHU FTHAGN!!
DOOK!
LC: HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!
Oh hello there. Never mind my presence here. Seriously. I am of no importance to this story whatsoever.

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You suddenly understand jack shit.

One moment your survival as a species depends on beings that no longer exist. The next, you are resting from what Harley would call a "vigorous tangle party". The only things you know for certain is that it felt nice (if not awkward) and that you have a strange craving for certain death on a stick.

Screw that noise. Instead, you turn around and cuddle your favorite grumpbeast, napping next to you. It's been a very long time since you saw him with a genuine smile like that. You may need a new nickname for him.

You spend the rest of the day pondering what Harley and Egbert had talked about. Something about how the trolls of old might've had words for that, and they were forgotten when the whole Mother Grub system was set up.

You're quite certain the quadrants have always been there, though. You take comfort in that.

And why was it you couldn't just ectobioloclone more trolls, again? How did Harley explain that? Oh yes. They wouldn't add anything to the gene pool -- they'd just be be more of the same twelve. And then Lalonde had piped in that they shouldn't try to cause variation by hand or the grubs would all be deformed in creative ways, like having four eyes or worse. So yeah, you only have this one sexy option.

When night falls, you'll go and tell it all to the other girls. If they accept it, survival as a species gains a new hope. If they squick out, at least you'll get some entertainment out of it.

At any rate, you and your Karkat... you're gonna rock the quadrants.


All of them.

A/N:

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If you read it on my site, there's a bonus pic in the end. You might notice that the four parts have been titled, and the fourth is "Anticlimax", which is a "safe for work, not so much for the mind" version of the unwritten "Climax". If enough people show an interest (PM me!) I might write an alternative part 4 as I originally planned it, and put it on my site. Maybe with a little switch to toggle between the two versions.

[Metaflare]

Back with chapter four! Vriska's head is a strange place, and I do not desire to go there again soon.

Enjoy!

Conquest
Chapter One: The Mess You Left
Chapter Two: Black and Red
Chapter Three: Our Work Is Never Over

Chapter Four: The Games We Play

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Vriska opened her door, and Terezi was outside.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

It was the tone that got her. It wasn't 'let's talk' or even 'we need to talk'. It was simply 'can we talk?' A question, not a demand. Maybe even a plea. Vriska gave her the once over skeptically. Terezi was wearing the black tanktop and cargo pants that represented the fleet's leisure uniform, only her Threshecutioner's jacket was pulled loosely around her shoulders. She looked tired.

Vriska considered herself a pretty cold bitch, but there were some temptations even she couldn't resist. Glancing down the hallway as if checking to be sure that no one was watching, she pulled open the door of her respiteblock for her age-old frenemy.

"Get in here," she said, and that was all that was needed.

Terezi entered with less bounce in her step than Vriska was accustomed to observing, drudging more than walking over to the couch. Vriska shut the door behind them, and followed after the Pyrope with crossed arms. Oh God, whatever the story was here, it had better be good.

"So what is your deal, exactly...?" she asked as Terezi settled gingerly down on the couch.

"Something's come up," Terezi said, "that I think you need to hear about." She paused there, and if Vriska didn't know better she would have thought it was purely for dramatic effect.

"So...what is it?" she snapped, having none of it. Terezi laughed humorlessly.

"Did you happen to get any new orders today?" she asked.

Vriska's insides instantly went cold. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Explain."

"Heheh, I thought so," Terezi replied, leaning back. "I can see you're about as impressed as I was. Which is not very."

"What are they even thinking?" Vriska growled, throwing her hands in the air. "It's a useless rock in space! Not to mention completely primitive. A battle with them will be over in about eight seconds flat. Hell, I bet me and the Ketchup and Mustard Squad could go in there and devastate the whole planet single handedly. Or at least until one of them wets themselves and starts crying. And even then we'd be schooling the whole civilization to such a completely ridiculous degree that even I'd feel a little bit guilty."

"You're holding back, Vriska," Terezi drawled. "Why don't you let loose and tell me how you really feel."

"Shut up! Point being, the stupid monkies won't even know what's coming. It'll be a thankless bloodbath, is what it'll be." She dropped down onto the arm of the couch, fury suddenly transmuted to an almost childlike frown. "And for negligible loot, too."

"But we know the loot isn't really what it's about in this situation, don't we? You and I." Terezi attempted a grin, but it came across more as a bearing of fangs.

"Yes, we do!" Vriska continued, not losing an ounce of momentum. At least, until she realized that she wasn't sure what motive Terezi was specifically alluding to. But, damn it! She didn't want to sound like she knew anything less about the situation. That'd just be embarrassing. "But, what were you thinking the motive was specifically? I wanna make sure you know as much as you think you do."

"Oh, of course." She batted her hand, not missing a beat. "I'll run this by you and let you tell me what you think. What is on that planet that has special relevance to exactly twelve of us and no one else?"

"Well duh! But why would Command care about that? And why would Peixes go after them? I thought she was on our side."

"I'm-" Terezi began, but stopped halfway through like something was distracting her. She shifted around, wincing, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch. "I'm not so sure about that anymore, Vriska. Something here stinks. Want to help me find it?"

Vriska scowled, looking Terezi over again.

"Um, yeah, sure - but why the hell do you keep moving around like that? It's like you've got a gut worm up your ass." Bending over the arm of the couch, she grabbed the bottom of Terezi's tank top and yanked it upwards.

"Whoa, Vriska!" Terezi yelped, choking out a laugh. "Slow down!"

"What is this?" Vriska kept the shirt held up, pointing at the poorly applied wrapping of bandages she's just found. Turquoise blood seeped through the white, in a pattern that covered most of the other troll's side. "What's with the back alley first aid job? What were you even doing?"

"Nothing! Just got into a little scuffle is all."

"Well, you can at least wrap it up right! Geez, do I have to do everything for you?" Storming away from the couch in indignation, Vriska went to grab the standard issue first aid kit from the drawer beside her recuperacoon. She was already opening it as she came back, shaking her head and tsking in irritation. "All that time in Thresher school and you didn't even learn how to wrap up a hole in your gut?"

"We're really more about making holes than fixing them."

"Hush!"

Terezi obeyed without much further complaint as Vriska went to work patching her up. She even held her shirt in place as Vriska slathered on a layer of purple sealing gel and bound it up as neatly as possible. The wound underneath looked like it must have been done with a bladed weapon - a long, thin line of crusted blue-green blood. Another Threshecutioner?

As she worked, Vriska put a half-hearted effort into probing Terezi's mind. As usually, she was unable to dig much deeper than the distant surface. There was no even touching the thoughts of Terezi Pyrope. But while it was impossible to get specifics, there was something strange there. Whatever was turning around in Pyrope's head, it was something fiercely intense...and focused. Sharper than anything she'd every felt in someone's head before.

While mostly just adding another piece of confusion to the whole encounter, it did make Vriska think. Maybe things were as serious as Terezi was making them out to be.

"There," she said when she was finished, finally leaning away. "See how much better that is?"

"Thanks Vriska," Terezi said quietly, looking down. Of course, Terezi rarely actually looked at someone when she was talking, because of the fact that all of that sensory input went in through her noise. But there was something about the look on her face that was driving Vriska absolutely wild inside. What was that? Exhaustion? Dejection? What?

"ARG!" Vriska cried, hurling herself onto her feet. "I swear you do this just to torture me! First you start ignoring all of our blatant black chemistry for that stupid mutant and now you come crawling back like this? Looking for pity or something? I don't even know what you're doing! You're like the queen of mixed signals, Pyrope! It's like you've got all the signals in a mixing bowl, and you're whipping them up something terrible!"

Terezi pulled herself to her feet in front of her, suddenly way too close for comfort. She held a single finger to Vriska's lips, hushing her gently.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," Vriska started defensively. "It's my respiteblock and I'm talking here-"

Instead of a finger, this time Terezi used her lips.

Vriska's first reaction was surprise, where all her muscles went tense, caught between impulses to escape and pursue. But as Terezi wrapped her arms around her waist and pull her in closer, all thoughts of leaving were swiftly replaced with frustrated lust and delicious, delicious outrage.

Just as she was really getting into it, Terezi pulled away, bringing up a small printed card between them.

"Check out these coordinates," she said. "You'll find some answers."

"I...what...I don't want your stupid card, Terezi!" Yet someone she found it in her hand as Terezi pulled away, slipping on her jacket and getting ready to leave.

"If you want to help stop this 'thankless bloodbath' from happening, you really do."

"None of these things you're saying are making any sense! Why would Feferi Peixes want to attack Earth?"

Terezi stopped at the doorway, hesitating. She turned around. "Look into the coordinates. Ask for 'June'. You'll figure it out." She winked. "I believe in you."

"Whatever! Fine! I'll think about it, and take my damn time while I'm at it!"

"Sure, but you should hurry," Terezi added as she left. "According to orders, the alpha strike against Earth is happening two days from now."

"Yeah?" Vriska shouted as the door closed in her face. "Well maybe you should stop being such a Goddamn tease!"

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And so the sudden make-outs begin!!!

You are quickly becoming my favorite.

Also, fucking CALLED IT on the Earth invastion.