MSPA Fanfiction III

[Wigmund]

Nice fics everyone.

Well, except for yours Katrika, they just trigger my Vriska Ragenode in my brain and I scream and froth and roll around the floor for an hour or so. (I kid )

It's kinda fitting that Rae wrote that Trolls and cookies fic, because I had the urge earlier to start on a very similar thing...
If You Give A Troll A Cookie

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If you give a Troll a Cookie

He’s gonna demand for something to drink

When you give him some milk, he’s gonna cuss you out and spill it

When he does that, he’ll demand that you clean the mess up

Then he will get upset when you bring out the mop bucket

When he sees the mop bucket, he’ll demand that you hide it somewhere out of sight

When you go to hide the bucket, he’ll follow you to see where you hid it for ‘later’.

Then you’ll make a mistake and ask him about his problem with buckets. He may very well explain you the odds and ends of troll romance.

When he’s explaining troll romance, he will need a dry-erase board and multiple markers so he can accurately show the minute details of their overly complicated system.

While he’s showing you the overly complicated system of troll romance, he’ll almost certainly get carried away and show you his shipping wall. So you’ll have to provide names of your close friends and possibly some family members.

When the troll is finished shipping everyone you know, he’ll ask you to put the chart up somewhere easy to see.

And then you will have to copy the chart in blood on your walls. This means you need to go out and get some fresh stuff.

When you finished painting the shipping wall, you and the troll will bask in the glory of your silly achievement.

Looking at all that blood will remind that he’s kinda thirsty…so he’ll ask for a glass of milk.

And if the bastard asks for a glass of milk, then he will most likely want some cookies to go with it.

A/N:

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Sorry I butchered all of our childhood memories...well most of our childhood memories since I don't know if you 90's kids ever read the book.

I was considering doing this as a fanart series, but maybe we all can beg Deeum to draw this.

[raequiem]

Wig: Ahahahaha. You rape my childhood in the best way.

Capri: PMing you the recipe to avoid clogging the fic thread with BLUH BLUH COOKIES.

[Katrika]

Wigmund, that was hilarious.

[Graven_Image]

I loved that original book. And you put just enough of a sardonic spin on it to make it funny again.

Well done, Wigmund. Well done.

[SkaianRedeemer]

And if you give a lusus a muffin...

[c_rowles]

Nobody commented on conceptofzero's Feltfic?? Aw man! Every single one of you should read it this minute, it's hilarious and surprisingly touching. You hear me? This minute.

AND AS FOR THE REST OF YOU:

Kass: I've got a slightly different take on why Tavros split instead of offing Vriska, but I loved your fic all the same. You write dramatic tension so well!

Katrika: Vriska is such a colossal dweeb. I absolutely love these stories, and I can so picture her huddled up with her grubtop in her Nick Cage shrine, snickering to herself as she bangs these out.

Graven: There's this thing. This thing that you do all the time. I never want you to stop doing it ever, okay? Are we clear?

That thing is being you.

Actually, that goes for everyone in this thread, as well. Cheers everyone, and keep on rocking out.

[Katrika]

I'm really glad everyone is liking them.

Does anyone have any good links to online Anansi stories?

[crash826]

--A Spur-Of-The-Moment Fanfiction by crash826--
If I May Be So Kind, Part 1
Note: I wrote this in Pesterchum and made it up as I went along. DON'T JUDGE ME.

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Karkat was, to put it lightly, not having the best of days.
To put it the way he would put it, it was like an Imperial Drone had come to the door and the only things around were Vriska, Equius and a bucket.
First of all, he had woken up with Nepeta staring at him from exactly a foot away.
She had been standing there all night.
Watching.
He'd gotten Kanaya to shoo her out and made a mental note to avoid the insane cat girl for a few days.
Then he had opened a stream, intent on spending a little time with Troll Liv Tyler, and found three hundred photos of some clown Earth band. He had asked Gamzee- well shouted at Gamzee really- if it had been him who had replaced all his romcoms with all his clown worship musclebeast crap.
He'd gone all funny in the eyes and returned, with unusual malice, "nO, bRo- It'S a HiT lIsT."
After deleting all the photos while keeping Gamzee in his field of vision and making no sudden moves, he'd gotten a little help from Sollux to get his romcoms back and asked Kanaya to calm Gamzee down. Y'know, seeing as he was painting images of these ridiculous clown gods on dummies and then smashing them to bits with clubs (how can dummies be so explodable? they found one of their heads on the other side of the lab- Gamzee's hit had sent it spiraling through 600 feet of solid steel.) Karkat then decided that it would not be a good day and went to his computer to read terrible lovey fanfiction. That was when Equius had fallen off a ledge, dropped 300 feet and smashed his computer into bits and pieces, and hit him in the face with a tin of Sopor Biscuits before walking off, mumbling something about miracles.
In short, summarized Karkat, grumbling as Kanaya swept up the shards of his computer, it was about a 300 in bowling, only in a version of bowling where the ball was made of excrement and the pins were his day, and the shoes were... yeah he kind of lost it there.
And then Kanaya walked up, tapping her foot nervously, pap pap pap. As if she had something important to say.
What, asked Karkat, disdain clearly on his face, what could you possibly be asking me? Today, of all days? This HORRIBLE day?
And Kanaya responded, would you like to go out to dinner?
A dimension away, Rose Lalonde shuddered. When questioned by John, she muttered something about a disturbance in the force and left to go murder imps until she felt better.

*flees*

[Decker]

I like where Karkat lost his grip on the metaphor.
Those fuckers are slippery.

[Sionnan]

Man, I almost went an entire day without posting something. Unless I actually did. My sense of time is fucked up.

In this episode of the lives of the Strider brothers, Bro reflects on how shitty it was to be an impoverished single parent in his teens.

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His years as a late teen were positively horrific.

Of course, this is never going to be something that would reach Dave's ears or even vaguely in the vicinity of his mindspace, even ironically, because there's just some shit that can't be funny to the kid you raise. It wasn't just the child rearing thing, although some of his most terrifying memories were of Dave standing up in his third-hand crib, eyes glowing red like hot gears in the dark, pale skin lit by the flashing neon lights outside, saying Bro's given name in perfect enunciation over and over and over again. It was the times he had to dodge his neighbors, once he got them in a better neighborhood, heart pounding, because he's starting to run out of excuses as to where their parents are, and it's just not legal for someone at 17 to be raising an infant that isn't even their own.

The way that at 17 up to 20, not a goddamn person would hire him on as a steady worker. The way that he's had to make up that sideline of puppet porn, after being on the waitstaff in way too many late night bars, overhearing the kinds of creepy shit people think is hot. And by the time Bro's old enough to drink, he doesn't even need to work at a steady job anymore, though for some reason, that right there is a sad goddamn thought indeed.

The way that he had a crisis right in the middle of the baby food aisle, Dave riding his hip because he doesn't have a carrier, as he stares in a sense of overwhelming dread at the brands of canned food stacked in orderly rows, marching in front of his vision. (Although that one was short lived, because he figured if it's on the shelf, it's safe enough to feed the kid. Right?)

When he was mugged and hospitalized for a night when Dave was a toddler, and he kept trying, desperately, to tell whoever would listen to him, that he had a kid at home that needed taking care of, he couldn't just stay at the hospital, even as they took his vitals and staunched the cut in his scalp, a souvenir from his encounter with a board wielded by the thief. They tried to placate the teenager, asking his address, saying they could send over a policeman to bring Dave to the hospital, and it took them three goddamn hours to clear him, and just as he was checking out, a policewoman approached him with a terrified-looking Dave on her hip. The kid only started crying when he saw Bro's battered face, reaching out with his little chubby star-fish hands to touch the blood and bruises. Bro let him, feeling that at that moment, their blood was as thick as oil.

The days his stomach spasmed from hunger, as he skipped meals constantly to make sure Dave had enough to keep him sated. The twenty pounds he lost as a result, in one month. (Though that was partly because of the parasites he picked up from drinking from the same bar he waited. Worst job ever.)

The days where the power went out because Bro just didn't have enough to cover food, rent, clothing, and utilities. The one time they got evicted, something that Bro swore would never happen again, as he went from associate to associate, friend to friend, begging for a place to crash. They mostly turned him away, unwilling to deal with a kid in their domicile.

The sicknesses. Oh, God the sicknesses. While he understood in retrospect that Dave had been a remarkably healthy baby, he still had his fair share of infections and colds. The night that his temperature had soared to 110 degrees, and Bro was out of his mind, frantic with fear, and he had no money for cab fare to get to the hospital and he'd rushed to other apartments banging on doors and demanding ice, and he'd attracted a crowd by then, who mostly collected at their doors to stare at the teenager's frenetic conduct. And Jesus how Dave had screamed when Bro put him so gently in that mixing bowl full of ice, and he'd cried as he laughed because the kid was going to be okay, as he squalled and fought the cold, because no dying baby would have the strength to let it all out like that.

The years that it took for him to be old enough to be considered by the state to legally adopt Dave, those sucked It was a pain in the ass enrolling him in school without a whole lot of legal shit. Dave went to a couple different schools as Bro managed to climb his way of of poverty and into better neighborhoods and apartments, and by the time the people were rich and naieve enough to care about a child living without a legal guardian, Bro had managed to wrestle the system in granting Dave to his custody.

These were the kinds of things Bro would never tell Dave about.

Of course, there were others that Bro just kept to himself, memories that he knew he cherished himself, but would probably invoke the self-conscious disgust of the pubescent boy. Times when he lay on some shitty, sprung couch that smelled like old upholstery and mold (because goddamn if he were actually going to let the kid sleep on any of the surfaces in that vermin-infested place), Dave sleeping like a rock on his chest, and he could feel the tiny beat of the heart thumping against his chest. And although moments like these, and there were many before Dave became a cognizant, talking human being, were frustrating at the time, Bro would never have changed them.

[Katrika]

Sionnan: That was...beautiful.

[Decker]

Very touching.

[Katrika]

Crash: That was great!

[crash826]

Crash: That was great!

Why thank you!

I got a approving comment from Katrikaaaaaa 8D

[Caprisaurus]

@@ Sionnan
Ahhh I love these fics, but this is my favorite as of now.
3

@@ Crash
Teehee, Rose at the end 3

[Katrika]

Am I internet famous or something on here? xD

[Graven_Image]

If you are, then so am I.

And that's awwwwright.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Crash: "nO, bRo- It'S a HiT lIsT." I really want to see canon Gamzee say this.

[Katrika]

Graven: Well, I consider you one of the 'famous' fanfickers on here. =P

[KarneWarrior]

Am I famous yet?

Who do I have to kill to be famous?

Graven do I have to kill you because that would be truamatic I think. I've never killed anyone before. How do I shot gun?

[Katrika]

You're famous to me.

[Graven_Image]

Graven do I have to kill you because that would be truamatic I think. I've never killed anyone before. How do I shot gun?

Just do it quick, I don't want to die slowly and painfully.


GOD-TIER WRITER OF SPIRIT AWWW YEEEAAAH.

[KarneWarrior]

You're famous to me.

Graven do I have to kill you because that would be truamatic I think. I've never killed anyone before. How do I shot gun?

Just do it quick, I don't want to die slowly and painfully.


GOD-TIER WRITER OF SPIRIT AWWW YEEEAAAH.

Yaaaaay! Hear that Graven! Katrika said I didn't have to kill you! Hooray!

[Wigmund]

Who do I have to kill to be famous?

You have to kill the main characters of Homestuck in such horrifying ways that nobody can look at Lil Cal without imagining him slowly creeping up on them while they sleep.

They can't help but to think about the puppet tenderly stroking their hair while they peacefully slumber and it just sits there and smiles at them...waiting.

And finally they have the horrible thought of waking up in the middle of the night to see those blue eyes staring into their own, gold tooth glinting in the puppet's permanent grin and his soft mitten-cover hands reaching for their face while it starts to laugh at them.

HAA HAA

They can feel the puppet wrap his arms around their neck

HEE HEE

The arms tighten and constrict as Lil Cal pulls himself closer to the poor terrified soul's face.

HOO HOO

And then...

[-Benedict]

HO HO HO

SANTA CAL DEVOURS YOUR ESOPHAGUS FROM THE INSIDE OUT