MSPA Fanfiction IV

[Wigmund]

Wait until the sequel.

[Metaflare]

Fuck.

[NotAPumpkin]

If that meeting ever takes place in canon....

But your writing it is terrifying enough, Wigmund. Hahaha.

[morpheoMancer]

So...here's a thing.

Just a Moment:

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Aradia comes and goes.

Equius can deduce no pattern within it. Perhaps there isn’t one; perhaps there doesn’t have to be one. As the Maid of Time, Aradia can go to any moment, as well as most places.

She does not keep her visits linear; he is sure that sometimes she comes to him from the beginning of the session and sometimes from the end, or somewhere in-between, within her strange time loops.

Equius doesn’t mind.

The visits are not always strictly pleasant. Sometimes she is enraged; sometimes she is distant; once, she was in a philosophical mood and raised many existential questions he would rather not be answered. This time around, however, she seems amiable.

Equius traces a finger down her forearm - gently, but not quite as gently as possible. It feels so good to be able to touch someone without fear of breaking them. He moves his hand down to her fingers, twiddling them carefully. They seem so delicate, and yet they’re so strong. He remembers crafting every detail of them, and yet they’re alive now in a way they weren’t then. Aradia is the fusion of her own passionate soul and his technical knowledge. (There is also a frog in there somewhere).

She is beautiful.

Equius admits he does not know how to approach her. It is strange: he understands love well enough to program it into a computer chip in a troll girl’s heart, and yet is clueless enough to have believed that was in any way a good idea. Love is counterintuitive: it requires so much give and take; so many variables left uncontrolled.

Love does not allow the use of force.

Force comes naturally to him. His strength is only one aspect of it. The deep desire to give out orders is another one. And the robots are yet another. The systems of a robot draw on the force of a power source and distribute it through the body. It is simple.

Unless you throw a soul into the equation.

Souls make solving for X very difficult.

Though Equius doesn’t really know what to do, he tries to work his way through it, fumbling uncomprehendingly like a fresh wiggler trying to explore the world, before the Tests are upon him. It is sometimes difficult, sometimes pleasant, and always worth it.

Aradia looks him in the eyes. Or perhaps she’s looking at his glasses. Perhaps she wonders why they are broken. He could have fixed them back on Alternia. He can certainly fix them now – or, better yet, replace them. She doesn’t know that he’s grown used to seeing the world like this – darkened and cracked. A world without cracks in it would be quite difficult for him now.

Some time passes, and Aradia stands up. The moment grows short; it is almost time for her to disappear. Equius supposes he also has responsibilities to attend to.

Before she disappears, Equius draws her in. Gently, again. It feels so odd to use body language to ask for something.

She acquiesces.

All the lessons of delicacy are forgotten now. Steel strains against muscle as they embrace; their lips press into each other with force enough to crush diamond into rock. The passion he feels here is fiercer than anything he;s felt before. It burns brighter than his; it is more important to him than his blood. It is terrifying and delirious all at once.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And then she is gone. He does not sigh. How could he, after a moment like that?

He will see her again. He feels confident he will keep seeing her, forever and forever.

One moment at a time.

; _ ;

please

moar

AGREEED

[BPrinny]

Pure Unadulterated Terror

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honk
HONK
honk
hoo hoo
hee hee
HONK
HAA HAA
honk HONK
hee hee
honk
HAA HAA
HONK HONK
HOO HOO
"honk motherfucker"
"Dammit, you've ruined this conversation."
"SHIT, I'M SORRY MY FUCKING PUPPET PAL."

I'm sorry.

I'm assuming this takes place after they kill everyone.

[Doodled]

Comment dump while I get my crap together to write the final parts to that murder mystery...

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So...here's a thing.

Just a Moment:

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Aradia comes and goes.

Equius can deduce no pattern within it. Perhaps there isn’t one; perhaps there doesn’t have to be one. As the Maid of Time, Aradia can go to any moment, as well as most places.

She does not keep her visits linear; he is sure that sometimes she comes to him from the beginning of the session and sometimes from the end, or somewhere in-between, within her strange time loops.

Equius doesn’t mind.

The visits are not always strictly pleasant. Sometimes she is enraged; sometimes she is distant; once, she was in a philosophical mood and raised many existential questions he would rather not be answered. This time around, however, she seems amiable.

Equius traces a finger down her forearm - gently, but not quite as gently as possible. It feels so good to be able to touch someone without fear of breaking them. He moves his hand down to her fingers, twiddling them carefully. They seem so delicate, and yet they’re so strong. He remembers crafting every detail of them, and yet they’re alive now in a way they weren’t then. Aradia is the fusion of her own passionate soul and his technical knowledge. (There is also a frog in there somewhere).

She is beautiful.

Equius admits he does not know how to approach her. It is strange: he understands love well enough to program it into a computer chip in a troll girl’s heart, and yet is clueless enough to have believed that was in any way a good idea. Love is counterintuitive: it requires so much give and take; so many variables left uncontrolled.

Love does not allow the use of force.

Force comes naturally to him. His strength is only one aspect of it. The deep desire to give out orders is another one. And the robots are yet another. The systems of a robot draw on the force of a power source and distribute it through the body. It is simple.

Unless you throw a soul into the equation.

Souls make solving for X very difficult.

Though Equius doesn’t really know what to do, he tries to work his way through it, fumbling uncomprehendingly like a fresh wiggler trying to explore the world, before the Tests are upon him. It is sometimes difficult, sometimes pleasant, and always worth it.

Aradia looks him in the eyes. Or perhaps she’s looking at his glasses. Perhaps she wonders why they are broken. He could have fixed them back on Alternia. He can certainly fix them now – or, better yet, replace them. She doesn’t know that he’s grown used to seeing the world like this – darkened and cracked. A world without cracks in it would be quite difficult for him now.

Some time passes, and Aradia stands up. The moment grows short; it is almost time for her to disappear. Equius supposes he also has responsibilities to attend to.

Before she disappears, Equius draws her in. Gently, again. It feels so odd to use body language to ask for something.

She acquiesces.

All the lessons of delicacy are forgotten now. Steel strains against muscle as they embrace; their lips press into each other with force enough to crush diamond into rock. The passion he feels here is fiercer than anything he;s felt before. It burns brighter than his; it is more important to him than his blood. It is terrifying and delirious all at once.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And then she is gone. He does not sigh. How could he, after a moment like that?

He will see her again. He feels confident he will keep seeing her, forever and forever.

One moment at a time.

; _ ;

please

moar

AGREEED

DOUBLE AGREED.

WAIT GUYS
GOOD NEWS
I HAVE IT
I LOVE YOU LEXXY

RIGHT HERE
I WILL PUT THIS AND ALL MY OTHER FANFICS ON A03 WHICH I HAVE NOW SIGNED UP FOR
SINCE I AM SINKING DEEPER INTO DARK!FIC AND SAD!FIC

ALL MY LOVE GOES OUT TO LEXXY.

That is...

Wow...

That is my 2nd favorite fanfic.

Only because I refuse to have a favorite.

Okay, first ever actual contribution to the art forum. This was inspired in part by skeptic's Aradia/Kanaya picture and is based heavily on Rebbe's fic Camaraderie.

This is part one of god knows how many because I'm not really sure where this is going yet. It's also untitled for the moment. And it may undergo editing in the future because I really need to reread the Intermission.

So, uh, enjoy?

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"I'm having the boys over for poker tonight," you tell your daughter. "So scram for a few hours, would ya?"

She's already moving before you start the second sentence, completely unfazed. That's just how your little girl is: nothing gets under her skin. You like that about her; it means the two of you get along fine, no arguments, no misunderstandings. It's been a pretty easy ride, all things considered, and you're thankful for that.

She looks dapper in her coat and hat, hand poised on the doorknob. You approve. "See you later, Daddy," she tells you, and you almost manage not to twitch when she calls you that. You'd think after this long you'd be used to it, but your lip curls for an instant anyway. It doesn't matter; she's already out the door.

Slick arrives first, and Deuce and Boxcars not long after, and you settle in around the table for a gentleman's game. You're pretty sure Deuce has never entirely understood how poker works, and while once in a while he cruises through on uncanny luck, tonight is not his night. He's completely tapped early on in the evening. Slick starts off with a few good hands, but then things turn sour and his anger gets the better of him, and from then on you can read him like a book. He hangs on for a while out of sheer single-minded stubbornness -- and a willingness to keep reaching into his pocketbook -- but eventually he's got nothing left to give and he bows out less than graciously, muttering under his breath and glaring at you murderously. Boxcars may be the muscle of the crew, but he's got a pretty good mind and a stone face at the table, and in the end the two of you pretty much split the pot, though you note with satisfaction that you come out just slightly ahead of him for the evening.

So you're in a pretty good mood when Aradia comes home, an hour or so after the boys leave.

"How was your night? Where'd you run off to?" you ask her. Normally you wouldn't ask, wouldn't care -- honestly, you still don't right now. But you're a richer man in a good mood, and you want to share it, and that's how it all starts.

"Alright. Out with a friend," she replies.

You grunt in reply. Out with a friend, fair enough.

You stop.

"…You don't have any friends," you say suspiciously. Maybe it sounds cold, but it's true: your daughter's a loner. In all the years she's lived with you, you've never heard that phrase come out of her mouth before. Something is not right here.

Aradia simply shrugs and heads to her room. You think about pressing her further, but you decide against it. You've learned it's always better to have a cool head and some solid information before you start asking questions, so you let her go and decide to sleep on this little revelation.

Over the next couple of days you watch her as much as possible, out of the corner of your eye. None of your daughter's actions are out of the ordinary; she doesn't look like she's hiding anything. But you do notice a thing or two, like the way her suits are always pressed and perfect, her hair always neat and tidy. Normally you'd have to command her to take care of the way she looks, but you haven't done that in… how long has it been? A month?

You're definitely suspicious now.

On the third night after your poker game Aradia tells you she's going out for the evening.

"Where to?" you ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know yet. Just out with a friend."

You nod in acknowledgement. Three minutes after the door closes, you follow her.

It's not that you don't trust her. You don't trust anyone much, but you come the closest to it with your little girl. She's a good kid, and you know she'd tell you anything you wanted to know if you asked. Thing is, you don't think she'd have much to tell you. She has a weird way with people. Hell, if she's okay with you, what other kinds of shady characters might she be okay with? You've done what you can to raise her right, but social interaction beyond the two of you just never came up that often. You're looking out for her, in your own way.

Your own way happens to be hopping in your sleek black sedan and following your daughter down the lamp-lit streets, always staying a block or so behind and cutting into the shadows where you can, pool cue a comforting presence in the backseat, ready for any trouble that might arise. You know, like any good father would.

Eventually your daughter stops at a house and knocks on the door, which is answered promptly. You tense, but she doesn't go inside. Instead, another figure joins her. You can't see clearly enough at this distance, and it's too early to blow your cover, so you keep following.

Eventually they lead you to the movie theater, where there's a line-up outside and a convenient dark alley you can park yourself in and watch.

The person accompanying your daughter turns out to be a young troll woman about Aradia's age. Her hair is short but stylish, and her dress is a bit on the daring side fashion-wise but immaculate and expertly tailored, and she carries the look with easy grace. You feel a grudging sense of approval.

They're talking. You can't hear them and you've never been too good at reading lips, so it's more than a little frustrating. You're trying to figure out a way to get closer when all of a sudden it becomes irrelevant, because the troll girl reaches out to take Aradia's hand, just for a moment, and there's an expression on your little girl's face you've never seen there before (mostly because up until now she's really just had the one); there's a subtle light in her eyes the average person wouldn't even notice, but you've known her long enough you could never miss it.

Shit.

Fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit.

You pull out of the alley like hell's on your heels, only just barely keeping the tires from squealing as you take the corner. You've seen enough. You need time to deal with this little revelation and all the disaster it'll bring.

Your little girl's in love.

God fucking dammit.

*applauds*

Duality

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She took pleasure in the thought of facing down the demon. Her grin widened with a trace of smugness as she stretched her wings, ignoring the carnage around her. It wasn't her doing, after all.

She took pleasure in the thought of facing down the demon. Her grin widened in pure smugness as she stretched her wings, ignoring the carnage on her hands. He had practically asked for it, after all.

She played the games for fun. Nobody pushed her, or relied on her, or made her do this or that. Oh, she got a little interested in the levels, later, but she played the games for fun.

She played the games to live. She pushed herself, relied on herself. She will not let herself be eaten. She will not. She will not! Oh, she started to enjoy it, later, but she played the games to live.

Revenge felt good. Blood dribbling over her, blue and thick, as she hit, and she hit. He was screaming for her to stop but she didn't. She had to make her pay.

Revenge felt good. Blood dribbling from her face and shoulder as she concentrated, pushing the pain and using it for her own benefit. An ever dwindling part of her begged her to stop, but she didn't. She had to make her pay.

Sometimes she sees them looking at her with pity, or sadness, or even anger. She's okay with that. She doesn't care. They don't know, not really. They have no idea how loud the voices are, how strong the pull of fate, what it feels like to drown in that pull until her own emotions and wants are snuffed out. They have no idea, and she's okay with that. She'd be okay if they did know, too. She's okay with a lot of things.

Sometimes she sees them looking at her with pity, or sadness, but mostly anger. She's okay with that. She doesn't care. They don't know, not really. They have no idea what it's like to wake up with screaming nightmares about being eaten alive, or how hard it was for her to feed her lusus at first. They've never had to see the bloodless, mummified corpses of their lusii's last charges. They have no idea, and she doesn't care, because caring about the looks hurts too much, and eventually when even not caring starts to hurt, she forces herself to enjoy the looks, just like she enjoys the hurting and the killing and the act of betrayal. They SHOULD fear her. She's DANGEROUS. She's BETTER.

Her name is Aradia Megido.

Her name is Vriska Serket.

LOVE IT.

Pure Unadulterated Terror

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honk
HONK
honk
hoo hoo
hee hee
HONK
HAA HAA
honk HONK
hee hee
honk
HAA HAA
HONK HONK
HOO HOO
"honk motherfucker"
"Dammit, you've ruined this conversation."
"SHIT, I'M SORRY MY FUCKING PUPPET PAL."

I'm sorry.

Please say that this will happen...

[H-Waters]

Here is an introduction to a large story. I don't have any title for it...yet. Criticism would be nice. Any kind will do, except for the vague "It sucks," or "I like it."

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A normal man was just strolling on the open space of New Comicon, when he found a stall. It was a stall with nothing on it. The words 'Criticism Here' were emblazoned in a small sign which was being held by the man. So he inquired, "Criticism, eh? Tell me what you think about Homestuck." And so the criticism man answered, "Homestuck has little Humor. It is not supposed to be Like That. Homestuck belongs to the realm of Serious Webcomics. Andrew Hussie Planned It as Such. Also, Homestuck and Problem Sleuth are Two Distinct Webcomics. It shouldn't be compared to Each Other, as some people dooo..." "Maybe you just read that from the internet," the normal man interrupted. Offended, the criticism man shooed him away.

After a tour of New Comicon, he was ready to leave. But there was a blockade at the exit. All of them were fans of a certain webcomic. What bothered him the most was what was written on the placards. They said one thing. 'End.' He said, "What the hell is this?" Nobody spoke a word. He then tried to move his way through the fans. It was futile, since everybody was as rigid as stone. He then uttered a mild threat. "I will tell the police about this." He then marched to the entrance of Comicon, but it was impossible to see where the entrance was, due to the sudden unnatural density of the crowd. "Hell, hell, hell, where is the entrance?" He found himself moving around in circles, even after thirty minutes. "Once I get out of this, I will make sure to gun down whoever created that series with the blocking fans," which he did, later on. After thirty more minutes, he screamed. But the crow seemed to ignore him. The entrance disappeared, and the exit was blocked. He was trapped.

Then, a sudden blackout came. The normal man ran his way through the crowd, who stopped in their tracks in shock, and he accidentally knocked over a policeman. Remembering his statement, he got the gun from the policeman's belt, and felt his way into the entrance. He hid the gun in his side pocket, of course. After ten minutes, he escaped New Comicon. The policeman was still knocked out, strangely enough. And so, he hitchhiked, until he found Ned Senway, the creator of that certain webcomic. So he killed Ned, shouting, “I hope your shitty fans die!” And then he disappeared.

"You have killed a man, haven't you? You were to have a vital role in the world of webcomics. What a shame. However there is a world where you will have a chance at life again. Oh, and I'm warning you, do not kill anyone in the next world."

And so he woke up in a field. There was a young boy standing nearby. He went to the boy and asked, "Where am I?" "In the world of Homestuck. You may call this a sort of hell," the boy answered. He inquired, "Oh. So I'm trapped, am I?" "You are. And this world is much worse than New Comicon," the boy stated. The normal man said, "Oh well. Now what am I going to do?"
"Find Andrew Hussie, and apologize to the criticism man. But you'll still be here, even if you meet them."
"That’s all? It’s easier than I expected. The first task, I mean. I’m not sure about the second,” the normal man said. Then he added, "How can I reach the trolls?" "I don't know. Ask Andrew Hussie," said the boy. "Thanks for the answers. Goodbye," the normal man concluded. The boy hopefully replied, "Goodbye and good luck!"

[SkaianRedeemer]

Awesome, Miss Prince! Glad it's a part 1.

[emesis]

Okay, first ever actual contribution to the art forum. This was inspired in part by skeptic's Aradia/Kanaya picture and is based heavily on Rebbe's fic Camaraderie.

This is part one of god knows how many because I'm not really sure where this is going yet. It's also untitled for the moment. And it may undergo editing in the future because I really need to reread the Intermission.

So, uh, enjoy?

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hide spoiler

"I'm having the boys over for poker tonight," you tell your daughter. "So scram for a few hours, would ya?"

She's already moving before you start the second sentence, completely unfazed. That's just how your little girl is: nothing gets under her skin. You like that about her; it means the two of you get along fine, no arguments, no misunderstandings. It's been a pretty easy ride, all things considered, and you're thankful for that.

She looks dapper in her coat and hat, hand poised on the doorknob. You approve. "See you later, Daddy," she tells you, and you almost manage not to twitch when she calls you that. You'd think after this long you'd be used to it, but your lip curls for an instant anyway. It doesn't matter; she's already out the door.

Slick arrives first, and Deuce and Boxcars not long after, and you settle in around the table for a gentleman's game. You're pretty sure Deuce has never entirely understood how poker works, and while once in a while he cruises through on uncanny luck, tonight is not his night. He's completely tapped early on in the evening. Slick starts off with a few good hands, but then things turn sour and his anger gets the better of him, and from then on you can read him like a book. He hangs on for a while out of sheer single-minded stubbornness -- and a willingness to keep reaching into his pocketbook -- but eventually he's got nothing left to give and he bows out less than graciously, muttering under his breath and glaring at you murderously. Boxcars may be the muscle of the crew, but he's got a pretty good mind and a stone face at the table, and in the end the two of you pretty much split the pot, though you note with satisfaction that you come out just slightly ahead of him for the evening.

So you're in a pretty good mood when Aradia comes home, an hour or so after the boys leave.

"How was your night? Where'd you run off to?" you ask her. Normally you wouldn't ask, wouldn't care -- honestly, you still don't right now. But you're a richer man in a good mood, and you want to share it, and that's how it all starts.

"Alright. Out with a friend," she replies.

You grunt in reply. Out with a friend, fair enough.

You stop.

"…You don't have any friends," you say suspiciously. Maybe it sounds cold, but it's true: your daughter's a loner. In all the years she's lived with you, you've never heard that phrase come out of her mouth before. Something is not right here.

Aradia simply shrugs and heads to her room. You think about pressing her further, but you decide against it. You've learned it's always better to have a cool head and some solid information before you start asking questions, so you let her go and decide to sleep on this little revelation.

Over the next couple of days you watch her as much as possible, out of the corner of your eye. None of your daughter's actions are out of the ordinary; she doesn't look like she's hiding anything. But you do notice a thing or two, like the way her suits are always pressed and perfect, her hair always neat and tidy. Normally you'd have to command her to take care of the way she looks, but you haven't done that in… how long has it been? A month?

You're definitely suspicious now.

On the third night after your poker game Aradia tells you she's going out for the evening.

"Where to?" you ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know yet. Just out with a friend."

You nod in acknowledgement. Three minutes after the door closes, you follow her.

It's not that you don't trust her. You don't trust anyone much, but you come the closest to it with your little girl. She's a good kid, and you know she'd tell you anything you wanted to know if you asked. Thing is, you don't think she'd have much to tell you. She has a weird way with people. Hell, if she's okay with you, what other kinds of shady characters might she be okay with? You've done what you can to raise her right, but social interaction beyond the two of you just never came up that often. You're looking out for her, in your own way.

Your own way happens to be hopping in your sleek black sedan and following your daughter down the lamp-lit streets, always staying a block or so behind and cutting into the shadows where you can, pool cue a comforting presence in the backseat, ready for any trouble that might arise. You know, like any good father would.

Eventually your daughter stops at a house and knocks on the door, which is answered promptly. You tense, but she doesn't go inside. Instead, another figure joins her. You can't see clearly enough at this distance, and it's too early to blow your cover, so you keep following.

Eventually they lead you to the movie theater, where there's a line-up outside and a convenient dark alley you can park yourself in and watch.

The person accompanying your daughter turns out to be a young troll woman about Aradia's age. Her hair is short but stylish, and her dress is a bit on the daring side fashion-wise but immaculate and expertly tailored, and she carries the look with easy grace. You feel a grudging sense of approval.

They're talking. You can't hear them and you've never been too good at reading lips, so it's more than a little frustrating. You're trying to figure out a way to get closer when all of a sudden it becomes irrelevant, because the troll girl reaches out to take Aradia's hand, just for a moment, and there's an expression on your little girl's face you've never seen there before (mostly because up until now she's really just had the one); there's a subtle light in her eyes the average person wouldn't even notice, but you've known her long enough you could never miss it.

Shit.

Fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit.

You pull out of the alley like hell's on your heels, only just barely keeping the tires from squealing as you take the corner. You've seen enough. You need time to deal with this little revelation and all the disaster it'll bring.

Your little girl's in love.

God fucking dammit.

Just want you to know that Rebbe totally spazzed ( IN THE GOOD WAY ) when I linked her to this. Loving it, can't wait for more.

Also, great job everyone! LET IT BE KNOWN (again), that I lurk this thread regularly and enjoy everyone's work.

[Twigwise]

;v; Daddy Droog fiiiic~~~ Just what I needed to get me ready for finals today

[Renegade Electron]

This is the next chapter of SFelt, which is SBurb/SGrub for the Felt. Chapter One can be found here.

Chapter Two: Cruxtuder Shenanigans

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The early stages of the game were not met with a great degree of competence. Experimentation almost dropped an alchemiter on Clover and nearly sent Sawbuck spiraling away into another point on the timeline. However, disaster was averted long enough for the devices to all be placed.
Scratch made his rounds, inspecting the devices and labeling each one with the appropriate team’s name.
“Okay,” he addressed the party before him. “This is where it gets hard.”
Scratch gestured to the cruxtuders. “Each of these has to have the top knocked off of it. This will release a kernel of sorts, and give us only a set amount of time to get ourselves into the Medium. The troll children had six minutes and twelve seconds. We will be likely to have the same.”
“So what do we need to do once we have that done?” inquired Stitch.
“We need to stick things into these kernels. That is the important thing. The kernels will take anything, but they prefer things that are…what did it say. Ah, yes, deceased or doomed. Team Muscle, you are going to use Crowbar’s corpse so you have someone competent on your side. The other teams, use your judgment.”
A chorus of affirmatives sounded, and the Felt began to approach the cruxtuders. Cans inspected the cruxtuder labeled “Muscle,” and smashed the cap under a beefy fist.
A timer blinked into existence and started counting down from 6:12, and a burgundy-colored kernel floated out of it.
“Scratch was right,” Cans called.
Suddenly excited, the other Felt members began attempting to pry off the lids to the other cruxtuders. The lids remained fastened on.
“Get out of the way,” Snowman suddenly shouted from a position at her computer.
Most of the Felt obeyed. Trace was less sure.
“Lookit,” he said. “You’re all the way over there! What do I need to worry about?”
“I’m not liking the look of your future trail,” Fin mentioned cryptically.
A green, twelve-sectioned cursor rushed by the heads of the Felt members, causing some unhappy yells, and grabbed a large clock. Trace stared at it blankly.
“I reckon you’re responsible for this,” he said, directing his accusation at Snowman.
Snowman didn’t reply, instead choosing to smash the clock into the cruxtuder labeled Unique.
The lid snapped off, and the clock shattered, knocking Trace to the ground. A green kernel – similar, in fact, to the color of the cursor – rose from the cylinder.
“What did I say?” Fin asked smugly, and headed to the Team Space computer. Itchy did likewise.
Using the computers and the cursors turned out to be a lot easier than using pure strength, and all four kernels were bobbing around happily by the time Doc Scratch returned with Crowbar’s remains. He handed the body off to Cans, who tossed it at the closest kernel.
There was a loud sound, akin to a FWOOSH, and an image of Crowbar’s head was now present in the blue kernel.
“Oy!” Sawbuck yelled angrily. “Dat’s our kernel!”
Doc Scratch was visibly frustrated to find that Crowbar had ended up with Team Space, and began cursing to himself. Green energy crackled around him, sparking in all directions, and the Felt members backed off. Finally, Scratch regained his composure and started to speak.
“What Cans did, we need to do,” he said to Teams Time, Space, and Unique. “Understand?”
Scratch was met with affirmatives and, satisfied, backed off to see what the Felt did with themselves.
“We should use an effigy,” suggested Stitch. “That’s my theory.”
Elsewhere, Die was being coerced to prototype his voodoo doll. Team Space’s first-tier prototyping had turned out to be Crowbar, and Team Muscle was left clueless.
“WE COULD USE A CLOCK,” Eggs suggested.
“Naw.”
“WE COULD USE DOC SCRATCH.”
“No,” Scratch yelled from across the room. “It will… Well… Just don’t prototype me. Okay? Use Biscuits’ oven or something.”
Eggs and Cans gave Biscuits a long look.
“Oi, what are you lot lookin’ at me for?” Biscuits finally said.
“Oven,” Cans replied. “Now.”

[Nust]

Here is an introduction to a large story. I don't have any title for it...yet. Criticism would be nice. Any kind will do, except for the vague "It sucks," or "I like it."

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A normal man was just strolling on the open space of New Comicon, when he found a stall. It was a stall with nothing on it. The words 'Criticism Here' were emblazoned in a small sign which was being held by the man. So he inquired, "Criticism, eh? Tell me what you think about Homestuck." And so the criticism man answered, "Homestuck has little Humor. It is not supposed to be Like That. Homestuck belongs to the realm of Serious Webcomics. Andrew Hussie Planned It as Such. Also, Homestuck and Problem Sleuth are Two Distinct Webcomics. It shouldn't be compared to Each Other, as some people dooo..." "Maybe you just read that from the internet," the normal man interrupted. Offended, the criticism man shooed him away.

After a tour of New Comicon, he was ready to leave. But there was a blockade at the exit. All of them were fans of a certain webcomic. What bothered him the most was what was written on the placards. They said one thing. 'End.' He said, "What the hell is this?" Nobody spoke a word. He then tried to move his way through the fans. It was futile, since everybody was as rigid as stone. He then uttered a mild threat. "I will tell the police about this." He then marched to the entrance of Comicon, but it was impossible to see where the entrance was, due to the sudden unnatural density of the crowd. "Hell, hell, hell, where is the entrance?" He found himself moving around in circles, even after thirty minutes. "Once I get out of this, I will make sure to gun down whoever created that series with the blocking fans," which he did, later on. After thirty more minutes, he screamed. But the crow seemed to ignore him. The entrance disappeared, and the exit was blocked. He was trapped.

Then, a sudden blackout came. The normal man ran his way through the crowd, who stopped in their tracks in shock, and he accidentally knocked over a policeman. Remembering his statement, he got the gun from the policeman's belt, and felt his way into the entrance. He hid the gun in his side pocket, of course. After ten minutes, he escaped New Comicon. The policeman was still knocked out, strangely enough. And so, he hitchhiked, until he found Ned Senway, the creator of that certain webcomic. So he killed Ned, shouting, “I hope your shitty fans die!” And then he disappeared.

"You have killed a man, haven't you? You were to have a vital role in the world of webcomics. What a shame. However there is a world where you will have a chance at life again. Oh, and I'm warning you, do not kill anyone in the next world."

And so he woke up in a field. There was a young boy standing nearby. He went to the boy and asked, "Where am I?" "In the world of Homestuck. You may call this a sort of hell," the boy answered. He inquired, "Oh. So I'm trapped, am I?" "You are. And this world is much worse than New Comicon," the boy stated. The normal man said, "Oh well. Now what am I going to do?"
"Find Andrew Hussie, and apologize to the criticism man. But you'll still be here, even if you meet them."
"That’s all? It’s easier than I expected. The first task, I mean. I’m not sure about the second,” the normal man said. Then he added, "How can I reach the trolls?" "I don't know. Ask Andrew Hussie," said the boy. "Thanks for the answers. Goodbye," the normal man concluded. The boy hopefully replied, "Goodbye and good luck!"

What the heck did I just read.

[Altum]

Here is an introduction to a large story. I don't have any title for it...yet. Criticism would be nice. Any kind will do, except for the vague "It sucks," or "I like it."

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A normal man was just strolling on the open space of New Comicon, when he found a stall. It was a stall with nothing on it. The words 'Criticism Here' were emblazoned in a small sign which was being held by the man. So he inquired, "Criticism, eh? Tell me what you think about Homestuck." And so the criticism man answered, "Homestuck has little Humor. It is not supposed to be Like That. Homestuck belongs to the realm of Serious Webcomics. Andrew Hussie Planned It as Such. Also, Homestuck and Problem Sleuth are Two Distinct Webcomics. It shouldn't be compared to Each Other, as some people dooo..." "Maybe you just read that from the internet," the normal man interrupted. Offended, the criticism man shooed him away.

After a tour of New Comicon, he was ready to leave. But there was a blockade at the exit. All of them were fans of a certain webcomic. What bothered him the most was what was written on the placards. They said one thing. 'End.' He said, "What the hell is this?" Nobody spoke a word. He then tried to move his way through the fans. It was futile, since everybody was as rigid as stone. He then uttered a mild threat. "I will tell the police about this." He then marched to the entrance of Comicon, but it was impossible to see where the entrance was, due to the sudden unnatural density of the crowd. "Hell, hell, hell, where is the entrance?" He found himself moving around in circles, even after thirty minutes. "Once I get out of this, I will make sure to gun down whoever created that series with the blocking fans," which he did, later on. After thirty more minutes, he screamed. But the crow seemed to ignore him. The entrance disappeared, and the exit was blocked. He was trapped.

Then, a sudden blackout came. The normal man ran his way through the crowd, who stopped in their tracks in shock, and he accidentally knocked over a policeman. Remembering his statement, he got the gun from the policeman's belt, and felt his way into the entrance. He hid the gun in his side pocket, of course. After ten minutes, he escaped New Comicon. The policeman was still knocked out, strangely enough. And so, he hitchhiked, until he found Ned Senway, the creator of that certain webcomic. So he killed Ned, shouting, “I hope your shitty fans die!” And then he disappeared.

"You have killed a man, haven't you? You were to have a vital role in the world of webcomics. What a shame. However there is a world where you will have a chance at life again. Oh, and I'm warning you, do not kill anyone in the next world."

And so he woke up in a field. There was a young boy standing nearby. He went to the boy and asked, "Where am I?" "In the world of Homestuck. You may call this a sort of hell," the boy answered. He inquired, "Oh. So I'm trapped, am I?" "You are. And this world is much worse than New Comicon," the boy stated. The normal man said, "Oh well. Now what am I going to do?"
"Find Andrew Hussie, and apologize to the criticism man. But you'll still be here, even if you meet them."
"That’s all? It’s easier than I expected. The first task, I mean. I’m not sure about the second,” the normal man said. Then he added, "How can I reach the trolls?" "I don't know. Ask Andrew Hussie," said the boy. "Thanks for the answers. Goodbye," the normal man concluded. The boy hopefully replied, "Goodbye and good luck!"

The narrative is stilted and clumsy, the dialogue is formatted badly, and the characters are random and opaque. It is pretty clear you're driving at some kind of metaphorical point, but not what it is, and it is probably in bad taste to write a story set in the real world about the murder of a webcomic artist and post it on the forums, especially send "Ned Senway" is such a fake-sounding name. In general, this story gave me the creeps.

[egregiousBass]

Chapter Two: Cruxtuder Shenanigans

I will admit that I haven't actually given either chapter a read, but place space this stuff out, particularly at dialogue. And Doc Scratch seems eye-bleedingly OOC from a cursory glance.

woah sure is negative around here

edit: Wait, I remember reading chapter 1 now

[penguinbound]

Story: Begin

The next part should reveal the series they're from.

Kids: Talk some more.

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Open Pesterlog:

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aphonicChroma[AC] began pestering elementSubjugator[ES]
eS: oh there you are
eS: where did you even go
aC: my power went out.
aC: but on the plus side, my computer is working completely fine now.
eS: that's awesome bro can you tell your girlfriend now
eS: i want to get this done with
aC: for the love of- yeah ok,
aC: i'm going.
eS: you better be

aphonicChroma[AC] ceased pestering elementSubjugator[ES]

Open Pesterlog:

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aphonicChroma[AC] began pestering dauntlessAuthority[DA]
aC: okay, i'm ready now.
dA: Excellent! Why did you need downloads again? We're only playing a game, we don't need downloads for it~
aC: except my computer wouldn't be able to play the game if i didn't download something.
dA: Oh.
dA: Jeez! Get a better computer already!!!!!!
aC: as much as i'd like to do that, that costs money.
aC: money i don't have.
dA: >:(
dA: Whatever! Do you have your stuff all ready?
aC: yeah.
aC: everything is ready.
dA: Oh, I am really excited!
dA: I'm going to tell UI and then we can start!
dA: Sit tight!
aC: i don't think i can sit any tighter.
dA: Heehee!

aphonicChroma[AC] ceased pestering dauntlessAuthority[DA]

Open Pesterlog:

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dauntlessAuthority[DA] began pestering universalInconsistency[UI]
dA: Ok, AC has got his stuff in order!
dA: Were doing this man
dA: Were making this HAPEN!
uI: Excellent we can make this hapen
uI: Of course we now have to decide who is connecting to who
dA: Oh, yeah!
dA: ...
dA: Can I, uh...
uI: Yes you can be ACs server
dA: Yay!
dA: Ok, but, this doesn't mean anything that would mean I have any kind of feelings for him!
dA: Okay?
uI: You are very bad at hiding your feelings
uI: Im sure you can work on that
dA: >:(
dA: No, you're just trying to assume things!
uI: I dont have to assume things i know
uI: Because i know you like him its pretty obviously written
dA: Why do all our conversations end up about this?

dauntlessAuthority[DA] ceased pestering universalInconsistency[UI]

uI: Because its funny to see you flip out
uI: Hahahaha ;)

Open Pesterlog?:

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dauntlessAuthority[DA] began pestering aphonicChroma[AC]
dA: Okay! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

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diaphanousInamorata[DI] began trolling antagonisticHarbringer[AH]
dI: Hey~<3
dI: This is when they start<3 right~<3
aH: wow really observant of you when did you figure that OUT?
aH: the part when they said they were ready or the part when they said they were READY?
dI: I think<3<3<3when they said they were ready~<3
aH: ...
aH: you just keep breaching new levels of stupidity everytime i talk to YOU.
dI: Heeheehee~<3

[Miss Prince]

Thanks so much for all the nice comments! I'm so happy people like the fic! I do indeed have more planned, although beyond the very next scene and the vague idea that a chainsaw must be used at some point, I'm not entirely sure what'll happen :P

@Metaflare: That particular piece can be found over here

@morpheoMancer: I'm glad Droog came off well! I'm pretty rusty on the Midnight Crew. I will probably do an archive binge of the Intermission before I write the next part.

@emesis: Oh yay! I'm thrilled to hear that. I really loved Camaraderie, so I'm so happy to hear that both you and Rebbe like it.

[Wigmund]

Miss Prince, I whole-heartedly approve of Droog!Aradia and Kanaya shipping with complimentary Daddy Droog freak-out.

Is Kanaya being raised by Stitch? Because I see hilarity ensuing down that path.

[Miss Prince]

I... hadn't thought of that, but it makes all kinds of crazy sense, actually. I've got her living alone now (she and Aradia are young adults in this one), but that's a great idea and I'll see if I can work it in somehow!

[Metaflare]

Story: Begin

The next part should reveal the series they're from.

Kids: Talk some more.

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Open Pesterlog:

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aphonicChroma[AC] began pestering elementSubjugator[ES]
eS: oh there you are
eS: where did you even go
aC: my power went out.
aC: but on the plus side, my computer is working completely fine now.
eS: that's awesome bro can you tell your girlfriend now
eS: i want to get this done with
aC: for the love of- yeah ok,
aC: i'm going.
eS: you better be

aphonicChroma[AC] ceased pestering elementSubjugator[ES]

Open Pesterlog:

show spoiler

hide spoiler

aphonicChroma[AC] began pestering dauntlessAuthority[DA]
aC: okay, i'm ready now.
dA: Excellent! Why did you need downloads again? We're only playing a game, we don't need downloads for it~
aC: except my computer wouldn't be able to play the game if i didn't download something.
dA: Oh.
dA: Jeez! Get a better computer already!!!!!!
aC: as much as i'd like to do that, that costs money.
aC: money i don't have.
dA: >
dA: Whatever! Do you have your stuff all ready?
aC: yeah.
aC: everything is ready.
dA: Oh, I am really excited!
dA: I'm going to tell UI and then we can start!
dA: Sit tight!
aC: i don't think i can sit any tighter.
dA: Heehee!

aphonicChroma[AC] ceased pestering dauntlessAuthority[DA]

Open Pesterlog:

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dauntlessAuthority[DA] began pestering universalInconsistency[UI]
dA: Ok, AC has got his stuff in order!
dA: Were doing this man
dA: Were making this HAPEN!
uI: Excellent we can make this hapen
uI: Of course we now have to decide who is connecting to who
dA: Oh, yeah!
dA: ...
dA: Can I, uh...
uI: Yes you can be ACs server
dA: Yay!
dA: Ok, but, this doesn't mean anything that would mean I have any kind of feelings for him!
dA: Okay?
uI: You are very bad at hiding your feelings
uI: Im sure you can work on that
dA: >
dA: No, you're just trying to assume things!
uI: I dont have to assume things i know
uI: Because i know you like him its pretty obviously written
dA: Why do all our conversations end up about this?

dauntlessAuthority[DA] ceased pestering universalInconsistency[UI]

uI: Because its funny to see you flip out
uI: Hahahaha

Open Pesterlog?:

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dauntlessAuthority[DA] began pestering aphonicChroma[AC]
dA: Okay! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

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diaphanousInamorata[DI] began trolling antagonisticHarbringer[AH]
dI: Hey~
dI: This is when they start right~
aH: wow really observant of you when did you figure that OUT?
aH: the part when they said they were ready or the part when they said they were READY?
dI: I think3when they said they were ready~
aH: ...
aH: you just keep breaching new levels of stupidity everytime i talk to YOU.
dI: Heeheehee~

oh man i feel like i should know but i dont aaaaaaaaaa

[Kerensky287]

Here is an introduction to a large story. I don't have any title for it...yet. Criticism would be nice. Any kind will do, except for the vague "It sucks," or "I like it."

Criticism you say? *puts on sunglasses*

Okay, so:
-Much of the story was... unclear, to say the least. The fact that you never named anybody - just "normal man", "criticism man", etc - made your use of pronouns confusing. I had to re-read it about 3 times to have any idea what was going on.

-I figure you're trying to be metaphorical somehow... "Normal man" gets trapped in a crowd of fans of "A certain webcomic" who are all holding signs that say the word "End". Then he gets out and murders the author of said comic for no reason whatsoever. If you ARE doing the metaphorical thing, my advice is to drop it and/or cut the story length down a lot. Metaphors and allegories, in my experience, need to be more blunt the longer the story is. Animal Farm, for example, was a straight-up history of the soviet union, using animals to tell how certain events are supposed to be interpreted. If your metaphors are subtle, they are more open to interpretation, and if people interpret them incorrectly, they get confused in longer stories.

With that in mind:
a) If you are writing a metaphorical story, reduce the length or make it more obvious what you're getting at with the metaphors.
b) If you aren't writing a metaphorical story... wow, there's a lot that needs to be changed here.
-Name your characters.
-Explain what the hell is going on a little more clearly.
-Try to trace the characters' thought processes more closely to make their actions believable or explainable. A guy deciding to steal a policeman's gun to shoot a webcomic author because the author's fans did some idiotic protest or something? I honestly don't even know what was going on. Please, PLEASE explain a little more clearly.


Anyway, 1 more page before I head off to work:

Page 72

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Responsibility by Stormrunner:
-Nitpicking first: "To her it was a matter of go and warn someone, or face Vriska alone." The wording here is a little bit awkward - at first glance it looks like "a matter of go". Not a big thing, but it's worth fixing.
-More nitpicking: Feel free to doublespace a little more. You did split up your story a little with ~~~, which is good, but in between those are big walls of text. I'd recommend adding a few more lineskips in there just for readability.
-Still more nitpicking... and this time it's for something I said I wouldn't call people on: You went a little overboard with Vriska's quirk. She doesn't need 8 exclamation marks at the end of every sentence, and she ESPECIALLY doesn't need 8 exclamation marks and 8 question marks.
-I do like the idea of the story (that Vriska killed Tavs to bring him to God Tier, and that they were going to force god tier on the others the same way) even though it's been basically disproven by canon at this point (not that you could have known at the time). If you felt like rewriting it to make it a little easier to read - better spacing, changing the wording, fixing the dialog - it would be more clear what's going on though. By the end of the story I sort of lost track. If you do end up rewriting I'll re-criticize it.

Courtstuck-5 by Metaflare:
-Gumshoe is my hero. He's adorably derpy even when he isn't even technically around. I agree that your dialog is probably better than your non-dialog, but that's just because you write the characters really well. Criticism: I'm not sure if I'll be able to look at a candle again without wondering if it's laughing at me. Thanks for breaking my subconscious.

Wow, that page had a lot less on it than I thought it did.

[Tybian Sothoth]

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http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4515717
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4517215
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4521451
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4525474
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4526712
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4526848
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4531039
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4532950
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4535661
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4539642
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4543269
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4548832
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4553210
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4563832
http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread...=1#post4577288

The Survivor
Chapter 16

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Tybian: Suddenly realize that everything you've done up to this point may have been a colossal waste of time

WHO CAAAARES!!!
You're just glad you don't have to kill anybody anymore! It sure was a pain trying to track everyone down, but it would have been next to impossible to bring yourself to kill them. Quit kidding yourself, you might hate some of them, but most of them you couldn't live without.
You do know you're going to have to let the White Guest know of your change of heart. He might not like it at first, but you'll probably be able to convince him to see things your way.
Probably...

As for what to do now, you have a pretty good idea of what to do next, but you'll need some help to get a lead.

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-- foreverParadox [FP] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT] --

FP: //STEN UP!!!
CT: D --> What now
FP: THERE'S BEEN A SMA// CHANGE OF P/ANS!!!
FP: / DON'T FEE/ //KE K////NG YOU GUYS ANYMORE!!!
CT: D --> What a surprising turn of events
CT: D --> And here I was
CT: D --> Preparing for our confrontation
CT: D --> Where you would lose
CT: D --> And I would stand over you
CT: D --> Wiping your dirt colored b100d from my garments
CT: D --> And possibly lamenting at your eternal ineptitude to recognize defeat before it struck that last blow
FP: OK SURE!!!
FP: YOU WOU/D HAVE BEAT ME!!!
FP: ETC ETC!!!
FP: / NEED SOME /NFO!!!
CT: D --> Clueless once more
CT: D --> I can't blame you
CT: D --> It's only in your nature to be a blithering idiot, forever scrounging at the heels of those who show far greater STRENGTH in practices you know little of
FP: COU/D YOU BE ANYMORE DRAMAT/C!!!
FP: / MEAN SER/OUS/Y!!!
CT: D --> What do you want
FP: / NEED TO KNOW WH/CH P/ANET VR/SKA WAS ON!!!
FP: SHE'S GONE M/SS/NG AND KARKAT WANTS ME TO F/ND HER!!!
CT: D --> The idea of my blackmailer being ordered around by an even greater imbecile then he is is absolutely
CT: D --> Insulting
FP: WOU/D YOU SHUT UP AND TE// ME /F YOU KNOW OR NOT!!!
CT: D --> I don't know
CT: D --> Shouldn't you be asking her spineless pet about these things
FP: / GUESS / COU/D!!!
FP: BUT D/DN'T YOU /MP/Y THAT YOU KNEW THE ANSWER TO MY QUEST/ON BEFORE / ASKED /T???
CT: D --> It's trying wordplay
CT: D --> It's being both revolting and humorously ironic at the same time
FP: YOU ARE SUCH A DOUCHEBAG YOU KNOW THAT!!!
CT: D --> Enough
CT: D --> I can stand the moronic side of you, but I have no intention of listening to you spit foul language in my direction
FP: FUCK SH/T FUCK SH/T FUCK SH/T FUCK SH/T FUCK SH/T!!!

--centaursTesticle [CT] blocked foreverParadox [FP] --

What a dick.
Still, he had a point in pestering Tavros, plus being able to talk to the REAL Tavros could help alleviate some of the post-rage twitches you've got.

[crash826]

Hey, I have a fanfic idea for anyone who fancies themselves a good creepy!fic writer.
If no one wants to do it I will do it myself.

[H-Waters]

Well, thanks for the criticism. Good thing it's all constructive. I'll surely change the story. Although I didn't mean for it to be metaphorical. Must be because of all those surreal IF games that I had played in the past.

[DJ-P0N3]

Hey, I have a fanfic idea for anyone who fancies themselves a good creepy!fic writer.
If no one wants to do it I will do it myself.

Creepy!fic you say?
How did you not immediately think of me?
TELL ME NOW

[Wigmund]

Creepy!Fic idea? I'm curious...