MSPA Fanfiction III

[mutecebu]

Re: Brothers strider: they're great! You should link 'em all in your sig! (Also, thanks you, awesome dude from earlier who compiled all the links)
I almost think cleaning up the appartment to make it spotless would be a GREAT way to mess with Dave. I mean, that's got to be like, at least, 3 layers of irony right there.

[One]

Trails, or Being Fin Really Sucks

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They were all going to die.

This, Fin knew. All of the Felt would be killed soon, at the hands of the Midnight Crew. Only Snowman would survive, and Lord English, the two Felt that Slick and his gang could not kill.

He had seen their future trails. Watch them unfold, then abruptly stop. Stop in the same rooms that the Midnight Crew would enter.

They were all going to die.

He had tried to warn them, but they had laughed it off. They should have learned by now; after all, hadn't he been the one to predict the deaths of Crowbar, Matchsticks, and Quarters?

They were all going to die.

He had even tried to go to the boss for help. But Lord English had done nothing. He had done nothing to stop Crowbar, their master planner, from dying. He had done nothing to keep the Felt a serious threat. If anything, the demon simply didn't care about his subordinates.

He would die too, along with the other Felt. He knew, because he had seen his own future trail. He had seen the course plotted by fate. He had seen its end, flat in the middle of Stitch's workshop.

He was terrified. He did not want to die, not yet. Not at the hands of the Midnight Crew. But you couldn't change the future.

He could only watch as the hours ticked by, as the Felt traveled their future trails, as they drew ever closer to their deaths.

They were all going to die, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

[Aerodactylus]

@One: That was...really creepy. I don't normally read Felt fics, but that one was suitably depressing. Good job!

@Sionnan: Holy...there are no words. If I were a crying sort of man, I would've shed tears. As it is, know that sadness now lingers in my soul. That spritelog...

[Kassiopeia]

@Sionnan that was brilliant. Evidently my heart is black and hardened as a meteorite because mostly what I was thinking was not OMG NOOO BRO DAVESPRITE WOE (although I have been through that stage) but "my god, you write Jack so incredibly sexy well". Fantastic look inside his head. I've been loving your Striderfic as well

[KanjiUsagi]

@one: dang. i'm amazed by how you packed so much intensity into a short fic. very good.


Hey 2-seconds in the future self!
Yes, 2-second in the past self?
I bet you can't write a holiday fic for every troll by christmas!
I accept your challenge!

As a result of this very deep inner conflict, I present to you number one of hopefully twelve:

The Twelve Days of Trollsmas:
:33< Pawtridge in a purr tr33

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“Equius!”
The gray-skinned girl bounced into the room, her blue costume tail adorned with large bows. Her friend glanced up from his project—some sort of robotic thing, marked by hand-shaped dents where he had lost his focus and gripped the metal with too much force. He raised one eyebrow at the sight of his moirail donning what appeared to be hoofbeast antlers—clashing quite a bit with her signature cat outfit.

“Nepeta, what are you doing? You 100k like a f001.”
At this insult, Nepeta frowned and pawed the antlers off of her head—and quickly deposited them on his.

“What is the meaning of this nonsense?”
“Come out to the main room Equius! Jade says it's christmeows!”
“Another one of the humans' absurd holidays? I refuse to participate. You may go and join the frolic Nepeta, but I have work to do.”
“:PP”

Retrieving her antlers and placing them awkwardly on her own horns, Nepeta sulked out of Equius' room.

“So what happened?”

Jade had waited outside of the room for Nepeta's status report. In the short time since the humans had found the trolls' asteroid, Nepeta and Jade had become good friends—somewhat thanks to Jade's affinity for “fauna.”

“He's being a BIG STUPID...STUPID”—Nepeta raised her voice to ensure the blue-blood would hear her strangely-worded insult—“He thinks it's pointless! :{{ He's too busy with his dumb robot!”
“Aw, let's just give it up, Nep. ._. If he wants to be a Scrooge, let him. He can't ruin the holiday for us!!!”

Nepeta nodded in agreement—she felt it wasn't the time to say she had no clue was a “Scrooge” was—and the two raced down the hall to the transportalizer.
– – – –

Nepeta stared on in interest as Jade flaunted her alchemized decorations and demonstrated how they were used. Bright red flowers, spiny green leaves with round berries, and something Jade referred to as “stockings,” which looked like deformed shoes. The troll girl cooed with delight as the flowers were placed on shelves and desks, the leaves were pinned to the ceiling, and the stockings—after Jade found nothing that could be considered a fireplace—were hung on each computer with care. (They would later ask Sollux to develop a fiery screen saver for the asteroid's network, to add to the atmosphere. )
Jade then retreated to the alchemiter and returned, dragging behind her a large dark green tree.
Nepeta ran to help her friend lift the thing, then clamored to find out just what it was for.

“It's a fir tree.”
“?!”
“Fir, not fur. This goes in the middle of the room and we cover it in ornaments and lights, and then we put presents under it.”

Nepeta bounced up and down happily while they played with the settings on the alchemiter—eventually they were left with a large box of ornaments of every color, strings of tiny lights, and a big golden star. The other trolls—and humans—were off doing their own thing, so the two girls took it upon themselves to decorate the tree as a surprise to the others. Singing every carol they knew and some they didn't (Nepeta made up the words as she went along) they saw to it that not a branch was left bare. When it came time to place the star—the tree was taller than both of them—Nepeta climbed up while Jade made sure no ornaments fell. Just as the troll hummed a little fanfare, triumphantly balancing the star on the highest branch, she was struck by an idea that, unusually for her, did not involve hunting or shipping.

“Jade, let's make Equius a tr33!”
“Nepeta, it will take us too long to decorate a second one. Besides, he said he doesn't want to participate. :(”
“i don't care what he wants to do, he's my moirail and I want him to have fun. He's such a grump he n33ds to do something 'f001ish' once in a rawr while!”

Jade rolled her eyes at the very, VERY forced cat pun, then walked back to the alchemiter.

“Well, what did you have in mind?”
“...He's so STRONG that a normal tr33 would purrobably break just by being in the same room as him...”
“!!!”
“What is it jade?”
“I have an idea. Go get Aradia, we'll need her help.”

– – – –
Equius stood up, having spent hours working on the finer details of his robotic horse legs (if he couldn't make them for Tavros, then by gog, he would make them for himself) and walked toward the transportalizer to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Since the discover of the human's greatest invention—a simplistic and yet fail-proof device known only as a “bendy straw”—Equius' milk-drinking had increased twofold. Dragging his feet as he approached the thermal hull, he muttered to himself.

“This Christmas holiday of the humans' seems interesting, but far too frivolous for someone such as myself. I do hope Nepeta has a good time celebrating, however...”

He paused as he passed a doorway into the main room, and stared for a moment at the tree his moirail had set up with her new friend. Forgetting entirely about his desire for milk, he walked up to it, keeping a safe distance so as not to break the ornaments. He was overwhelmed by the fresh smell of the leaves, and thought for a moment that he ought to warn Terezi so she wouldn't be too shocked by the blast of green. Smiling as he thought of the fun Nepeta might have had decorating the tree, he turned and headed back to the transportalizer—he could wait to get a glass of milk, and those horse legs wouldn't build themselves.
As he returned to the corridor leading to his room, he thought he glimpsed a flash of blue fluttering past a turn in the hallway. Shrugging in confusion to himself—and tearing the seams of his shirt in the process—he returned to his room without giving it a second thought. What reason would Nepeta have had for being in his room?
His question was answered by an endearing sight, set up in the midst of the metal scraps from his failed projects.
A robot tree, of all things! This strange alchemization awaited Equius, flashing red and green from the many lights installed in the tree itself. The star atop glittered deep blue as a personal touch. A bow—the kind for archery rather than the kind wrapped around Nepeta's costume tail—sat under the branches.
Equius raised his cracked shades to wipe away a single strong tear, then picked up his project and set it to the side. His project could wait. For the time being, he wanted to celebrate Christmas with his best friend.
– – – –
“I can't bel33ve we managed to get away with it!”
“I know!!! :D I hope he likes the tree!”

Giggling with Jade about how she thought Equius would respond to his surprise—complete with bad impressions of his voice—Nepeta set down Aradia. All three of the girls involved in this little prank were surprised that Nepeta was strong enough to lift Aradia, let alone captchalogue her. However, luck was with them at the time and they were able to use the robot girl's captcha code to alchemize the strongest tree possible. Even Aradia felt something similar to the childish glee expressed by her mortal friends.

“admittedly, this was a fun excursi0n. i wish i c0uld see just h0w he reacts.”

Aradia's wish was granted as the blue-blooded troll dissolved into visibility on the transportalizer, wearing what looked like a Santa hat. Nepeta squealed with delight and pounce-greeted him, and for what seemed like the first time ever he welcomed the enthusiastic greeting.

“Thank you for the 100vely gift, the three of you.”
“You're welcome, Equius!!! :) We just wanted you to get into the Christmas spirit!”
“i agree with the human. it's high time y0u did s0mething thats n0t w0rking 0n that h0rses ass.”
“I hope some of the others come down h33r soon! I don't want anyone to miss out on the fun!”
“I'm sure they will be here soon, Nepeta. For the time being, why don't you teach me some of those carols you were singing earlier?”

Later Nepeta and Jade would insist to the others that Equius had indeed spent that time singing with his friends and acting as “f00lish” as could be, but of course no one would believe them. Maybe that would be for the best—that short moment would serve for ages as one of the fondest memories those four would ever have.

Here's hoping I have the literary fortitude to write the next 11!

[sebastian]

@sebastian: What cT said. The writer only hates his kismesis' other relationships insofar as the kismesis gets joy from them. And most of it's fairly impotent ranting - he always threatens, but rarely actually does anything and would in fact be crushed if anything happened to hurt their relationship. His kismesis is used to it, and occasionally gets exasperated by it, but it's a stable relationship with plenty of "fun" (violence) to be had on both sides. So I think it's healthy.

Or as healthy as blackrom ever is :d

I don't want to start a kismesis debate over a fanfic (a well written one, I add) but I still think that even just threatening the lusus, or people near to your kismesis is in bad taste. it is like hitting on your girlfriend's sister (or mother) because "she remind you of her". Even if you actually would never do anything with her is still creepy/weird.

Anyway, case closed as far as I'm concerned.

[Aerodactylus]

@Kanji: Dude. NICE. I was expecting this little light silly thing, and while it was certainly light, that was a very good piece of holiday fic. I look forward to the remainder.

[egregiousBass]

Re: Brothers strider: they're great! You should link 'em all in your sig! (Also, thanks you, awesome dude from earlier who compiled all the links)

On that note...

1 - In which they cuddle :3
2 - In which they start some sick fires
3 - In which Bro catches some sick fires
4 - In which shit just got legal
5 - In which adults are stupid
6 - In which there is mood whiplash
7 - In which shit just got harmonic
8 - In which there is toilet humor

[conceptofzero]

sup fanfiction thread! I once again emerge from my fortress of solitude to post fic. It's Felt fic this time, because all the cool kids are posting Felt fic. It's called Dress Rehearsal Rag and it's Crowbar centric. As a warning, it's 99% headcanon, set pre-Felt, all about Crowbar's journey as he becomes a gangster. Also he's named Cra because I love me some pre-Felt alien names. Sample in the spoiler, plus links to it on Livejournal and AOOO!

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Cra is three the first time he hears the story. He's had his legs for a few months by that point, but he's also still got his tail, and it wiggle-waggles in anticipation. Cra's father carries him on his back, and the sweet sound of singing fills the night air as his family heads to the ruins.

There is an amphitheatre built in the ruins of a building more ancient than any of the others around it, built from stone and metal and decorated in the grim visages of the Conquerors. Father lets Cra sit in his lap as they listen to the Storyteller, who sings in a deep bass tone about the world before the end of the Conquerors and the Tale of Two Lovers. Though he is three and he is a restless boy, he sits quietly, spellbound by the tale the Storyteller weaves with words and song.

It's a sad story about a boy and a girl who met and were separated, the boy sent to mine in the north, the girl sent to farm in the south. They suffer for many years, never losing hope that they will see one another again. Cra eyes are wide as the Storyteller tells of how they escaped the dreaded Threshecutioners, running through the deep swamps of their world and hiding where the Conquerors couldn't follow. He can picture them running side by side, holding hands as they make their way through the deep marshes, fighting off crocodiles and giant leeches, eating nothing but moss and berries. Their love keeps them alive, and Cra soaks this all in like a sponge, absorbing every last word.

The Conquerors began to punish the whole planet for their actions, destroying the eastern swamps and laying waste to the breeding grounds. The boy and girl, now a man and a woman, could no longer stand to see their world destroyed and they came forward, offering their lives to spare their home. Cra does not cry when they execute the man, but he does weep a little when the Storyteller sings the woman's mourning song. He's not the only one, and more eyes are wet than dry when the last notes fade.

Just as they are about to execute the woman, the Gods rouse themselves from their cesspit and let loose the Endless Croak. The Conquerors were laid low and they bled out as the sound echoed through the universe, punishing them for their wickedness. Cra looks up at the statues of the Conquerors and their strange ‘hair' and ‘horns', and he tries to imagine how they must have bled, every colour of the rainbow pouring from their veins. The story ends with the woman taking the body of the man and seizing hold of a Conquerors ship, sailing away into the darkness of space to search for a way to retrieve him from death. Everyone applauds, including an excited Cra, his grief over the woman's song quickly forgotten.

On the way home, sitting on his father's shoulders, Cra makes up his mind, "One day, I'll travel to another world."

"You'll never go anywhere. All the ships are long dead, and no one knows how to fix them," Cra's father says. Later, when Cra is a man, he will reflect on these words and conclude that this was the first sign that his father was an awful one, "Dream about something real."

"It is a real dream!" Cra insists, eyes fixing up on the vast stars above. Just a day ago, they were nothing but bright points, but now he knows better. They're places full of people just like him, and that somewhere up there, there's a ship with a sad woman who needs someone to help her, "I'll find my way to the stars. I'll fix the ships."

His father says something dismissive, but Cra doesn't hear it. His eyes are busy looking up at the stars, dreaming about what else might be up there. He will leave this world, that's as certain as gravity to Cra.

Livejournal | AOOO

and while I'm here, lemme leave some quick feedback

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One - That's a great piece with Fin, you do a good job of capturing the depressing inevitably of seeing the future.
Graven_Image - your SCP stuff has been all sorts of excellent, and I'm glad to see that you guys are making it into a full-fledged project!
Quixotic - everybody's already told you this, but seriously, Conquest is good. It's very clear that you're comfortable in Karkat's head, and you really nail his voice, and the conflict he feels. Plus, there can never been enough Scourge Sisters as kismesises.
egregiousBass - late to the party on this one, but Dave and Hepheastus being doomed-timeline bros is the best

and I know I'm missing everyone else, but I am way too tired to slog through the thread. BUT you should all know that you're all doing an excellent job, and it's a real joy to glance in this thread and constantly see high-quality fanfic and all sorts of other excellent fannish stuff, like the fliking you were doing last page, and the SCP stuff, and the rest. seriously dudes, keep up the great work!

[QuetzaDrake]

That was adorable and heartwarming, Kanji. Nepeta and Jade hanging out is adorable, and I always enjoy Equius shenanigans (especially wiping away a single STROOONG tear).

[egregiousBass]

I'm loving the most recent update so hard. And Sionnan gave me inspiration.

Time for an avatar aneurysm.

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The oily planet is back to its normal state, aside from a few scars on the landscape and thousands of deaths. Shame, really; Jack was cooking up some sick fires back there. Oh well, means he's got another go at killing everyone later.

But first, he has to deal with the windy one. The dog's prototyping didn't give him much in the way of omniscience at all, but he knows about the Heir of Breath at least. With his mastery over space, it costs him no effort at all to track down his prey.

Within milliseconds, he arrives. How absolutely underwhelming. He was hoping for a thrilling terror chase, and here he has the heir fastly sleeping on some kind of altar, as if he was asking for the slayer to come visit him.

If these humans keep throwing themselves onto the business end of Jack's sword, who's he to refuse?

For a moment, he hesitates. Maybe it's a trap. Am I being followed? Any bunnies anywhere? Of course not. Nothing escapes Jack's spatial awareness. The boy is his to terminate at leisure. He draws his sword, provoking the usual searing pain. He's long gotten used to it.

He examines the boy laid out in front of him, breathing deeply without a care in the world. What should he do? Wake him up so he can taste the terror and agony in full? Add in a few dismemberments for good measure? Nah. He did that last time. Gotta mix things up a little.

He decides to leave the heir asleep. The look on his face when he wakes up to a sword plunged inside him is gonna be great. He can hardly wait. But he can't just go stabbing the kid any old place.

In the heart? That's just gonna be a boring instant kill. The throat? Risk of decapitation. He wasn't a big fan of those, so distant and impersonal. He did the lungs last time, so that just leaves the stomach. Slow and painful, leaving enough time for a disheveling wake up call and a spiffy oneliner. Excellent.

Jack raises his blade over the boy's abdomen. Instead of jamming it in like he usually would, he decides to let it sink in slowly. The tip of the sword punctures the soft skin, causing a bit of the red stuff to come oozing out. The heir's peaceful expression contracts in pain and his breath briefly stops. But he's still asleep. Interesting.

This is just the beginning. Jack pushes the sword in deeper, drawing more and more blood along the way, until it reaches the boy's stomach, putting a hole in the membrane. Acidic juices pour out and bubble up along the sword, mixing with the fragrant blood, adding a sour taste to the odor of death. If blood reeks of sorrow, then this new scent is one of pain.

But why isn't he waking up?! The kid should be screaming it out by now. He plunges the sword in deeper, impatiently this time, until he hits something hard. The stone slab or the kid's spinal cord, whatever. The kid's hands and face or convulsing now, but only gently so. The look on his face is more like...worry than fear, like he's only vaguely aware of what's going on.

The convulsions stop. The boy's eyebrows flatten. A final chug of air escapes his lungs, signalling his relief. It's a pretty sight, seeing the heir covered in his own fluids like a blanket. His clothes are colored a dark red. A few loving drops have made it to his cheekbone, as if left there by the kiss of death.

It's infuriating. He didn't mean to leave behind a beautiful corpse like this, let alone give this cretin a pleasant passing. Weak. Very weak. He should've just slapped the kid awake and jammed the sword in his face.

He will have to sate his thirst elsewhere.

Written under time pressure. I hope it's okay.

[QuetzaDrake]

Woah, messed up.

My headcanon and personal romcanon forbid this line of thought from him

but I will admit it's pretty awesomely dark and morbid and disturbing. Well done.

[Graven_Image]

Voices

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The deed is done. It's almost too easy this time.

And it still infuriates him that he's only managed to kill half of one again.

"Oh ho, well done," says the Jester. "Stabbing him in his sleep, that was surely not what he was expecting. This is probably the most gambit-worthy act since you brought a planet down on a little girl."

"You struck well," says the Warrior and the Crow. "He died in seconds. Now then, are you planning on doing anything with the corpse? It would be a shame if all that meat just went to waste."

"This cannot go on," says the Eldritch. "These children are not your toys to be torn asunder as you see fit. If you do kill all of them, I'm sure my superiors will be very displeased."

The Guardian remains silent for a while. "I do not care about the boy. There is only one of these children I am concerned about. Do to the others as you wish, but I will not lend my powers to her destruction."

"Be silent, all of you," says the Ring-Bearer, drawing his sword from the dead boy. "Your voices hold no sway over what I do. If I seek your advice, it will not be on matters such as this. Now we must fly. There is still work to be done."

---

"He is a terrible person," says the Jester.

"He fights without honor," says the Warrior and the Crow.

"He has no regard for those above him," says the Eldritch.

"He has threatened my family," says the Guardian.

"Then lend me your strength," says the Ring-Bearer. "And together we shall end him."

[BPrinny]

You know what I want to read now?

fan-fics about the most recent update, but from Vriska's perspective.

[Kassiopeia]

@Graven that is intriguing. I'm a huge fan of the idea of earlier prototypings affecting Jack psychologically, and (if I'm right in thinking that's what you've got going on) you put a really interesting spin on the idea here.

e - @BPrinny I've been thinking about writing something like that! But I think I'm gonna wait and see if we find out anything more about her motivation.

[QuetzaDrake]

@Graven I too enjoy the fact you made the prototypings themselves sentient inside Jack's mind, it reminds me of that old chestnut Tales from a Doomed Timeline, which I loved for the same reason *shoutout to Kass aw year* Although I think Jack spoke a little more poetically than I imagine he does even in his current form (I would imagine him saying "shut the hell up", not "be silent all of you", for example).

[egregiousBass]

My headcanon and personal romcanon forbid this line of thought from him

0_0

Yeah, I wasn't actually going for anything...sexual of any sort, but I'm all sorts of confused, so your mileage may vary? =P

[QuetzaDrake]

My headcanon and personal romcanon forbid this line of thought from him

0_0

Yeah, I wasn't actually going for anything...sexual of any sort, but I'm all sorts of confused, so your mileage may vary? =P

...wut?

I think you misunderstood, I just meant that I don't like thinking Jack's a... sadist. :s

[lucidSeraph]

@Sionnan that was brilliant. Evidently my heart is black and hardened as a meteorite because mostly what I was thinking was not OMG NOOO BRO DAVESPRITE WOE (although I have been through that stage) but "my god, you write Jack so incredibly sexy well". Fantastic look inside his head. I've been loving your Striderfic as well

No, I'm pretty sure that I was pretty distracted by the Jack, too.

@Bass - Tch, Drake can hush; I really like this take.

@Graven_Image - I LOVE the last four lines! Very epic fantasy, there. Delicious.

[raequiem]

Oh man this is what I miss when I sleep.

@Kanji - EEEEE! Strongtear! Love the little details like bendy straws

@sebastian - That's not what I was trying to imply at all. I'd compare it to being nice to your girlfriend's friends and family, which is something I think is good in a relationship. And so the opposite would be threatening. BLUH BLUH HUGE DERAIL.

@Bass - *shiver* I 'd when I saw the update, and this is pretty much an awesome way to get inside Jack's head. I'm not sure I'd want to stay in there long enough to write a fic, it's scary in there.

@Graven - Same. The prototypings are the coolest thing. And was that last line supposed to imply suicidalness? Because that's the vibe I got. And I kinda like that one - something very few people have explored about Jack. (EDIT: Or am I an idiot and that wasn't supposed to be Jack at all? Rereads are good things, self.)

[Kassiopeia]

No, I'm pretty sure that I was pretty distracted by the Jack, too.

We may be the worst people ever you know

[QuetzaDrake]

@Graven - Same. The prototypings are the coolest thing. And was that last line supposed to imply suicidalness? Because that's the vibe I got. And I kinda like that one - something very few people have explored about Jack. (EDIT: Or am I an idiot and that wasn't supposed to be Jack at all? Rereads are good things, self.)

I believe the Ring-bearer is one of the Exiles, actually.

No, I'm pretty sure that I was pretty distracted by the Jack, too.

We may be the worst people ever you know

I too was distracted by the Jack, but I am always distracted by the Jack so I don't worry about it too much

[SataiDelenn]

You know what I want to read now?

fan-fics about the most recent update, but from Vriska's perspective.

I'd give it a shot but...the only Vriska-related thing I want to do right now is kill her repeatedly, so...maybe later.

augh this update ;_; hate her so much

[Sionnan]

I'm loving the most recent update so hard. And Sionnan gave me inspiration.

Time for an avatar aneurysm.

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hide spoiler

The oily planet is back to its normal state, aside from a few scars on the landscape and thousands of deaths. Shame, really; Jack was cooking up some sick fires back there. Oh well, means he's got another go at killing everyone later.

But first, he has to deal with the windy one. The dog's prototyping didn't give him much in the way of omniscience at all, but he knows about the Heir of Breath at least. With his mastery over space, it costs him no effort at all to track down his prey.

Within milliseconds, he arrives. How absolutely underwhelming. He was hoping for a thrilling terror chase, and here he has the heir fastly sleeping on some kind of altar, as if he was asking for the slayer to come visit him.

If these humans keep throwing themselves onto the business end of Jack's sword, who's he to refuse?

For a moment, he hesitates. Maybe it's a trap. Am I being followed? Any bunnies anywhere? Of course not. Nothing escapes Jack's spatial awareness. The boy is his to terminate at leisure. He draws his sword, provoking the usual searing pain. He's long gotten used to it.

He examines the boy laid out in front of him, breathing deeply without a care in the world. What should he do? Wake him up so he can taste the terror and agony in full? Add in a few dismemberments for good measure? Nah. He did that last time. Gotta mix things up a little.

He decides to leave the heir asleep. The look on his face when he wakes up to a sword plunged inside him is gonna be great. He can hardly wait. But he can't just go stabbing the kid any old place.

In the heart? That's just gonna be a boring instant kill. The throat? Risk of decapitation. He wasn't a big fan of those, so distant and impersonal. He did the lungs last time, so that just leaves the stomach. Slow and painful, leaving enough time for a disheveling wake up call and a spiffy oneliner. Excellent.

Jack raises his blade over the boy's abdomen. Instead of jamming it in like he usually would, he decides to let it sink in slowly. The tip of the sword punctures the soft skin, causing a bit of the red stuff to come oozing out. The heir's peaceful expression contracts in pain and his breath briefly stops. But he's still asleep. Interesting.

This is just the beginning. Jack pushes the sword in deeper, drawing more and more blood along the way, until it reaches the boy's stomach, putting a hole in the membrane. Acidic juices pour out and bubble up along the sword, mixing with the fragrant blood, adding a sour taste to the odor of death. If blood reeks of sorrow, then this new scent is one of pain.

But why isn't he waking up?! The kid should be screaming it out by now. He plunges the sword in deeper, impatiently this time, until he hits something hard. The stone slab or the kid's spinal cord, whatever. The kid's hands and face or convulsing now, but only gently so. The look on his face is more like...worry than fear, like he's only vaguely aware of what's going on.

The convulsions stop. The boy's eyebrows flatten. A final chug of air escapes his lungs, signalling his relief. It's a pretty sight, seeing the heir covered in his own fluids like a blanket. His clothes are colored a dark red. A few loving drops have made it to his cheekbone, as if left there by the kiss of death.

It's infuriating. He didn't mean to leave behind a beautiful corpse like this, let alone give this cretin a pleasant passing. Weak. Very weak. He should've just slapped the kid awake and jammed the sword in his face.

He will have to sate his thirst elsewhere.

Written under time pressure. I hope it's okay.

OH FUCKING SNAP

Yeah I know I'm a tool because I don't respond much to fic, but I read this before I saw the update, and this... uuughhhh this. THIS.

THIS

I DON'T EVEN okay I'm cool now. What with Jack getting jacked up with all of these interstellar paradox space creatures, I can definitely see different parts of his personality (latent or no) coming up to the top like this. A really good hashing out of those few panels, and Jack's state at the time.

Also, re the bit with the stomach acid: YOU AR3 ON3 FUCK3D UP KID No, seriously, that was some very visceral, nasty stuff. Good work, yo.

[lucidSeraph]

No, I'm pretty sure that I was pretty distracted by the Jack, too.

We may be the worst people ever you know

sure is warm in this handbasket

that's going to hell

and all that