MSPA Fanfiction IV

[Wigmund]

Not another grub fic!
Yeah another grub fic. Shut up.

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It was tiny, it was slimy, and it was the cutest thing Jade had ever seen. Grub Terezi was a pale blue little thing. Twelve tiny legs wriggled in the air, the troll like head rolling around and around on it's tiny neck.

QU4444!

Jade blinked. She wasn't exactly old enough to know what babies sounded like, especially not troll babies, but she was pretty sure they didn't make Q sounds right off the bat.

oh, uhh, hi?

The grub blew a bubble and flipped right side up. It crawled over to Jade, who nervously sat down on the ground and let it crawl up her arm. It was like having a spider on your back, except the spider was 7 pounds and it's legs were digging into your back. It hurt pretty bad, but somehow felt... Good. Right.

Jade took one of her spare outfits out of her sylladex and wrapped grub Terezi up in them until the grub could only be heard. It wouldn't do to let the others know that she had accidentally made another clone. Again. She shuddered as she remembered what had happened after Rose had made the clones before.

Those poor, poor consorts in Terezi's land. Those poor, poor consorts.

0123456789876543210

When Jade emerged into the hall, she noticed Lil Cal was there. He was coated in blood of all colors, but for the moment he was still, and looking at someone incredibly beautiful. Someone who looked as if she simply didn't belong there.

The Mary Sue twitched.

Epic battle time or epic Mary Sue/TerrorCal make-out time?

I hope it's the second option.

[Sionnan]

@Kat- hm, interesting idea. I do have a fondness for some of those guys, so I'll see if something comes up.

@eB- er... do you mean as the subject of the fic, or should I be passive-aggressively grabbing ideas and trying to outdo the OP?

@LS- not at all, I'm willing to give anything a try. Let's hear it. Edit: if wthe request you were hesitant about was in there, I'll see what I can do; I've been wanting to do some John-Dad stuff. Also, if I write for Mom/Bro stuff, it will not turn out to be cute, just warning you. It'll probably be gritty and awkward, if that's good? (About your latest reVisions. Short version: I loved it. oh Gog how I loved it. Long version: Imma sound like a broken record here, but your attention to details is phenomenal. And the personalization you give to each of the guardians makes me invested in each of them. To be honest, I started liking Dad because of you.)

[lucidSeraph]

@LS- not at all, I'm willing to give anything a try. Let's hear it. Edit: if wthe request you were hesitant about was in there, I'll see what I can do;

It was the Mom/Bro. I'm hesitant because I see it as 1. kind of a dark, awkward pairing that is full of uh... ... it's just not a happy pair, okay. and 2. SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES THIS

THEN I REMEMBER THAT HUSSIE DREW IT and I feel better.

I've been wanting to do some John-Dad stuff.

YESSSSS.

Also, if I write for Mom/Bro stuff, it will not turn out to be cute, just warning you. It'll probably be gritty and awkward, if that's good?

LIKE I SAID, in my head it's not a cute pairing. If you want cute look at Mom/Dad; that's a much healthier, cuter relationship. mom/bro is ... I mean the age difference first of all and... yeah.

(About your latest reVisions. Short version: I loved it. oh Gog how I loved it. Long version: Imma sound like a broken record here, but your attention to details is phenomenal. And the personalization you give to each of the guardians makes me invested in each of them. To be honest, I started liking Dad because of you.)

AFdsjff I'm honored then! Here's a secret, actually: Dad was for the longest time my favorite character in the comic. Yes really. Not Dave, not John, none of the trolls, not Bro, Dad. So I'm glad the love is spreading

[Zerovirus]

Welp it's Rosefic time. In a world where the coldly rationalist Rose is adopted by Bro and raised as a Strider...

The Strider Way

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Alright, Strider, calm down. This apparent out-of-body experience you’re having seems insofar as you are concerned to be a real world, place, and universe, and if you’re dead the meteors have killed you already. In addition, the meteors crashing down into a real fucking universe seems to have a high correlation with the fact that the game can manipulate the world itself, play god with physics- So just think, and ponder, get used to your new extreme- and above all don’t panic because you may very possibly be fighting for your very life right now-

The fields of lava turned and roiled, an eternity of geothermal power fueled by a force quite beyond physics, continuously heating the sand piles that accumulated into landmasses and the spires that spiked high up out of the fluid. Above, huge concentrated ashy clouds rained flaming stone onto an uncaring sea. The Land of Heat and Rain, a world undisturbed, a world that shall be undisturbed.

Save for the one day in which disturbance occurs, and the status quo changes.

An apartment, beige, distinctly different from the rest of the scorched stone the world was forged from- manifests from nowhere, deposited by a cradle of glowing geometric curves.

The house stood on a network of granite and marble lattices which had stood there since the beginning, waiting for its payload- and they were more than enough to support the weight of the whole building.

In events resulting in extreme adrenaline and panic, find something minor, trivially easy but mentally reliant, to focus on. This helps condense yourself back to rationality and reality, if such an idea applies in this place. Ignore the flying flashing avian thing.

The flying crow-face didn’t help her return to thinking, though, and looking at the glowing sphere just reminded her of the huge expanses of flaming liquid beneath her.

Think of something else, then. You’ve been through these scenarios before.

She turned around and looked towards the horizon-

What… are those things made of? I can’t begin to imagine where so much stone with high melting temperatures could originate. Does such a thing even exist on Earth?

Rose didn’t like the fact that she could see those twisted formations of sediment and sand and stone on the horizon. She didn’t know what kind of material that was- but if it could survive the scorching temperatures of the lava- how valuable would all that undefined substance be anyways? Not any rock had such a high melting point, and thus this stone had at least some value to her.

That’s right, Rose, keep questioning. Remember when you read in that textbook- such feelings of extreme change and/or panic indicate a manipulable scenario and an important turning point in your existence, so keep the logic circuits going.

Of course, this was a game world- and Rose had to beat the game. Games were complex systems, and even Sburb, for all its world-manipulating, physics-defying powers, was a simple system. Not unlike a huge tool, the equivalent of a gigantic hydraulic lift or hammer that had insides and corridors- and all she had to do was learn to navigate the corridors, go through the motions so she could open a door- a more complex doorknob was all this was-

She was rambling again.

I could get down there later, extract a sample with something, and use it for alchemy in such a way as to imbue all my items with extreme heat resistance so that I can navigate this molten lava land? Meh, perhaps not worth the time, not enough returns on utility, and certainly not enough returns on not losing life or limb to the heat-

A flash of shifting white and orange and gold, molten vibrations of energy waving past her- intuition started up- her mind was surprised by the intuition- logic shouldn’t be intuitive, intuition and feelings aren’t efficient and they aren’t systems the universe runs on-

And yet, somehow, she knew, irrationally- it was time. Manipulation of time, in front of her-

Rose had once read in a science book somewhere about speculative workings of time- different models for how alternate timelines can be conserved in an infinitely large set-space of universes. The thing was, she didn’t know which one was right, and which ones were wrong-

But the concept stood. This existence was a being from another time, and naturally from that point she jumped to stories and expectations- tropes, Time Machines, magical space-time dilation, all those plot devices-

Rose’s brain ran search functions in that moment, and the search function coughed up some priors from various sources of fiction and documentation, and those priors told her that if this were a story, there’d be a fifty-percent chance, give or take, that the being manifesting in front of me was either me directly or one of my myriad descendants in some form-

Too many fragmentary sentences, too many dashlines closing incomplete thoughts. Rose didn’t get enough time to reason and come to a proper conclusion before the form manifested in front of her and rendered all those thoughts pointless.

Rose, standing straight in a universe of fire and entropy, looked at herself through the looking glass.

“What-"

The other Rose spoke quickly, cleanly and precisely, a crisp and neat speech that matched her crisp and neat attire. The intonation made it obvious- this was, if not repetitive, at least practiced.

Repetition combined with time travel sent up blazing warning signs, cached thoughts from all the science fiction Rose had ever read. When it comes to time travel, signs of repetition and of time loops are pretty damn obviously bad indicators-

“Wait for a second, because the rest of us are getting here in twenty seconds. I’ll explain then. Don’t say a word unless you want to unravel the timeline and condemn us all to burn in the pits of a burning green star of limitless torture and pain.”

Rose thought for a second, took some cached memories, applied them to this new consideration- establishing new hypothetical priors for a new query- and wisely determined that no, she wouldn’t talk, because frankly the idea of unraveling a timeline didn’t appeal to her much.

She would have questioned it, except that she also recognized that any accepted prior knowledge relative to time travel as applied to reality and not fiction was, perhaps not irrelevant, but put into question. Certainly, this would prove to be a great experimental test for all theories of time-

If only Rose were composed enough on the inside to consider it in such a scientific light, despite the calm demeanor she presented on the outside.

And then, in the midst of silence, a legion appeared in the skies.

“We’re here.”

All together as one voice.

Quite disturbing is what it is.

Well, they’re you, so it’s not really weird- In fact, Rose could see herself being quite amused by this. Still, Rose had enough discipline to separate the trains of thought, unravel the wrecks and form two spheres of comprehension- one of ironic coolguy humor her bro had taught her despite her nature, and the other one of babbling scientific terror at the ways that this made no sense at all-

Because this either implied an insane level of preparation, an insane quantum coincidence, or logical proof of some theory about human psychology’s stability- even if they’re all Roses, they can’t possibly be so synchronized-

They probably practiced it just to annoy me- them bastards.

And then on second thought…

Actually, let’s consider alternatives to this scenario’s current deliberate explanation.

What I have now is just the most likely probability in this fractionally miniscule probability of all things according to your priors and- Fuck, I can’t keep up with this bullshit. I can’t gun my brain fast enough to keep everything together and sane-

So of course Rose does the only thing she’s good at in the coolkid spectrum of skills, and shifts her face into neutral.

Keep up the stare, just ignore them and their smirks, Rose. You’re better than, well, yourself, and you’ve gotta show it-

“Rose, we know that you’re incredibly shocked on the inside and that you’re just hiding it. Come on, drop the fakey-fake cool bullshit. We have actual, serious issues to talk about.”

Shit.

Rose- the actual one, not any of the Roses that manifested from chronological holes in the last minute- spoke.

“So it is then obvious that we’re each near-perfect psychological replicas of each other and thus we can afford to be brutally honest and straightforward.”

That indeed made it a lot simpler, though it also presented problems, of possible Roses who might decide to deviate from the group standard- she could see herself doing it simply to be contrary, though the more acute problem is that all of them are undoubtedly better informed than she is, which puts a level of deception necessary to get her to do exactly what is necessary in this timeline for the good of the collective set of Roses- Which gave them reason to manipulate her, perhaps as a sacrifice of some sort-

And it was highly probable that there was something they wanted of her, or that in her timeline there was something that made her specifically special, otherwise they wouldn’t be there interacting with her-

She hated scenarios like this, which had up till now been purely hypothetical. How can I model for people who are psychologically exactly like myself but have reason to deviate from expectations to enforce a result that I cannot predict? Normal decision theory doesn’t cover this, timeless decision theory doesn’t either to my knowledge…

Then again, there’s nothing to worry about on a utility standpoint. You’ve read stories about this, Rose, you know that the protagonist always plies her future selves for information and cool tools- That’s what you’re going to be doing. Overrationalization will lead to failure simply by virtue of failing to seize opportunity, and rationality in its truest form must lead-

“To the path of greatest utility, of course.” Rose jumped as the words matched up perfectly with her thoughts- finely, like an articulated tendril that slithered into the cracks of her brain, and wriggled out a keyhole match like the most skilled lockpicker.

Of course. They’re all you. They were probably counting the seconds, recounting this entire stream of mental flow, and laughing because you have no idea what’s going on, Rose.

I should probably get going with the whole ‘manipulating timeflow changes to my advantage’ idea then.

But before she could open her mouth and ask questions that bubbled forth like an endless decanter, the first time-displaced Rose shook her head. “Rose- from now on we refer to you as Alpha Rose- before your questions you must understand some things.”

Rose (Alpha Rose, remember that, it’s your name now, follow the whisperings of linear time stability-) nodded, and waited for the dialogue. She would understand.

“I am Rose One, or just R1 for short. You are the Seer of Time- shut up with the internal monologue, yes the title is stupid- Anyways. You have time-manipulation powers in the form of alchemized equipment and inherent recognization of time-related stuff. So we’re all alternate versions of you-“

R1 turned around, and called over the floating Rose-crowd. “Who was Previous Alpha Rose, and what number are you up to?”

“Wait, what-“ Notice your confusion, Alpha Rose, for that is what you are, what I am. Confusion is to be expected in timetravel, and if I fuck up shit will go down-

“PAR here, Rose number 412.” At hearing those words, R1 whistled. “We’re already up to variant four hundred and thirteen? Damn.”

Rose was quite confused by all this lingo being slung around.

“Okay, hold on, what is all this- Variants? Previous Rose Alphas? That means-“ Her brain was already running conclusions based on her newly presented evidence- if there are previous Alphas, and each variant of the timeline has a Rose-

“Yeah, you got it. We splendidly fucked up our existence each and every one, so we came back.” R1 pulled out a notepad from her captchalogue system, and began drawing a diagram with a pencil produced in similar fashion.

“Okay, look here. The timeline, before this event, is singular for the purposes of our conversation. We have the same pre-Sburb experiences as you.” R1 stopped her pencil, in the middle of a straight line, and began drawing branches out in various angles from that single vertex where the line ended. “After this meeting of ourselves, the timeline branches.” Take it with stride, Strider. You must meet the expectations you are given perfectly. “I was the First Alpha Rose- and when I screwed up-“

“How’d that happen?” You have to make sure you don’t make those mistakes of all four hundred and twelve of your former failure selves-

“John got rather painfully pasted by Hephaestus. Anyways, I went back in time to this point.” R1 pointed towards the vertex where a veritable tree of branches stood. “At that point, it was probably just me, and the Second Alpha Rose was created. Of course, she fucked up too. Don’t ask how, we’ll talk about that at the end.”

Rose, for her part, nods.

“The thing is, time-traveled selves from a variant timeline, such as ourselves, are slated for destruction by the arcane workings of Sburb as an organic system-“

“Sburb’s an organic system slash game? That is mind-numbingly complex, how the hell did anyone on Earth program something so impossible by our time-“

“Magical goddamn codes from the Frog Temple, shut up because I have to keep talking before someone dies from spontaneous universe garbage disposal. Anyways, so I died pretty fast in Timeline Variant 2. Then Rose 2 had the idea of going back in time so that both she and I- Rose 1 and Rose 2, that is- would meet Rose 3, the new Alpha Rose. You see where we’re going?”

Brilliant- absolutely brilliant- I can’t imagine myself coming up with the same idea, except I actually have this empirical proof that I actually came up with such an idea in such circumstances due to this conversation- Weird time shit is what it is- and now if it happens to me I’ll carry out the exact same actions because my future self told me of the plan- doesn’t this fall under the paradox of spontaneous idea generation in time travel?

“And when Rose 3 fails, she does the same thing after you both instruct her to do so, right? Thus, an increasing amount of Roses show up to instruct a new universe variant’s Rose not to fuck up- And that’s me at this point. Four hundred and twelve of you here to advise me.”

dont you dare nod Rose alternate dont

She nods.

Okay okay okayokayokay calm down just because four hundred plus universes are riding on you doesnt mean you have to feel under pressure WHO AM I FUCKING KIDDING i saw this coming from a mile away anyways dammit

“You got it, girl. We figured that as a collective Rosemind we can eventually create a perfect timeline plan where nothing goes wrong, and ensure victory, if every defeat simply leads to pulling back and restarting like from a fucking computer reboot or something. Positive induction of the integers proves that at some absurdly asymptotically huge number of Roses we’ll hit equivalently asymptotically omniscient knowledge of the entire future.”

“…Great.”

R1’s face darkened slightly. “The thing is, all those other variants are like savefiles that got overwritten, in this extended comparison. I’ve died four hundred and twelve times and I don’t remember any of them, because we started over every time, so those deaths never happened…” she sighed. “This hurts my head as much as it does yours. I’ve been through this conversation so many times it’s frustrating-“

She stands up, stretches, and flexes her legs. Your legs, in an alternate nonexistent universe. “Don’t fuck up, okay? Rose Four One Three, R413, Alpha Rose. Don’t add yourself to our mass, don’t doom yourself over and over again to the repeated deaths we suffer at a violent universe that hates us, abhors us, and kills us, and would have retroactively aborted us somehow even without us creating knots in its hair-“

She’s been through more than I have. Or she knows it at least, and will know it for until her death in our variant- how could she have possibly prepared mentally for this idea- it would have broken me, as I stand now-

Rose One jumps into the kernelsprite.

Well, Alpha Rose, Oh Mighty Chosen Seer Of Time, you didn’t see that coming did you. No you did not, and you should probably have, seeing as she’s you. Nice “seer”-ing that was there. That was some absolutely perfect, accurate, and effective prediction of future event, Rose. No, really.

“That’s better. The Magical Orb Of Epilepsy Induction +5 was getting on my nerves anyways, zooming circles around all of us.”

Rose One- Rosesprite, now- takes to the skies, and above the whole milling mass of Roses manifests a huge, glowing pink platform, upon which all the Rose-variants land.

“Come onboard, Alpha Rose. Until we die, we have a lot of chatty chat to get through and a lot of junk to shove into your brain, so you don’t suffer catastrophic universal existence failure like us in case our plans go wrong.”

Rose hesitates- she waits- But four hundred and twelve of her can’t be wrong, and so she jumps and lands on the glowing solid hologram of a rock.

Of course it’s solid, of course you could have made the landing- stop doubting yourself in the literal sense.

As Rose lands, Rosesprite flutters down next to her, and pulls out a pair of runed, decorated sticks, no, wands, that seemed to form mobius loops with surface area and to twist inwards upon themselves- Rose could see, could feel and know a potential inside them-

“One pair of time machines for Alpha Rose, right here. Don’t ask questions.”

And yet, Rose couldn’t resist at least thinking her unvoiced questions.

There is no way this can possibly convince me, absolutely no way, the time machine is a pair of wands, how can the technology be compressed into such tiny things- where could is it possibly derive such exponentially large amounts of power from anyways? This makes no sense, argh-

As the flying platform began to move through the warm air, Rose asks one last question, the one of greatest expected utility in a new world of incomprehensibly complex mysteries and systems-

“Where are you taking us?”

“To your Denizen- that’s your planet’s final boss, by the way- Anyways, it’ll only take about two hundred of us to kill him at our skill levels, and we can spin on over to the other planets and kill their Denizens too, and then we go and hopefully by that time there’s enough of us left to kill the final boss before Jack Noir kills the Queen- I’ll tell you who those are later- before Jade enters the game and gets her own planet- then we just wait for her to show up before we claim the final prize and we will have everything beat. Sound good?”

Alpha Rose, the Seer of Time, has to admit- the plan has a nice sound to it. Elegance and effectiveness- not to mention style.

Don't mind me, I'm just imagining myself, leading an army of my timeclones, to break the game and win it easily- and when it’s all over and done, I’ll be all cool and shit just like Bro would want because this is the STRIDER WAY OF DOING THINGS- oh yes, it is.

Yes, this plan pleases Rose quite a bit. It would, of course- it’s the collective brew of all the Roses of her party- and their collective mental power is, Rose has to admit, quite impressive.

She’s always had a soft spot for flagrantly outrageous plans that break the rules in every possible way and yet still offer a greater chance of victory than anything else.

This is why we don't let Rose have the time powers.

[raequiem]

Welp it's Rosefic time. In a world where the coldly rationalist Rose is adopted by Bro and raised as a Strider...

The Strider Way

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Alright, Strider, calm down. This apparent out-of-body experience you’re having seems insofar as you are concerned to be a real world, place, and universe, and if you’re dead the meteors have killed you already. In addition, the meteors crashing down into a real fucking universe seems to have a high correlation with the fact that the game can manipulate the world itself, play god with physics- So just think, and ponder, get used to your new extreme- and above all don’t panic because you may very possibly be fighting for your very life right now-

The fields of lava turned and roiled, an eternity of geothermal power fueled by a force quite beyond physics, continuously heating the sand piles that accumulated into landmasses and the spires that spiked high up out of the fluid. Above, huge concentrated ashy clouds rained flaming stone onto an uncaring sea. The Land of Heat and Rain, a world undisturbed, a world that shall be undisturbed.

Save for the one day in which disturbance occurs, and the status quo changes.

A house, beige, distinctly different from the rest of the scorched stone the world was forged from- manifests from nowhere, deposited by a cradle of glowing geometric curves.

The house stood on a network of granite and marble lattices which had stood there since the beginning, waiting for its payload- and they were more than enough to support the weight of the whole building.

In events resulting in extreme adrenaline and panic, find something minor, trivially easy but mentally reliant, to focus on. This helps condense yourself back to rationality and reality, if such an idea applies in this place. Ignore the flying flashing avian thing.

The flying crow-face didn’t help her return to thinking, though, and looking at the orange just reminded her of the huge expanses of flaming liquid beneath her.

Think of something else, then. You’ve been through these scenarios before.

She turned around and looked towards the horizon-

What… are those things made of? I can’t begin to imagine where so much stone with high melting temperatures could originate. Does such a thing even exist on Earth?

Rose didn’t like the fact that she could see those twisted formations of sediment and sand and stone on the horizon. She didn’t know what kind of material that was- but if it could survive the scorching temperatures of the lava- how valuable would all that metal be anyways? Not any rock had such a high melting point, and thus this stone had at least some value to her.

That’s right, Rose, keep questioning. Remember when you read in that textbook- such feelings of extreme change and/or panic indicate a manipulable scenario and an important turning point in your existence, so keep the logic circuits going.

Of course, this was a game world- and Rose had to beat the game. Games were complex systems, and even Sburb, for all its world-manipulating, physics-defying powers, was a simple system. Not unlike a huge tool, the equivalent of a gigantic hydraulic lift or hammer that had insides and corridors- and all she had to do was learn to navigate the corridors, go through the motions so she could open a door- a more complex doorknob was all this was-

She was rambling again.

I could get down there later, extract a sample with something, and use it for alchemy in such a way as to imbue all my items with extreme heat resistance so that I can navigate this molten lava land? Meh, perhaps not worth the time, not enough returns on utility, and certainly not enough returns on not losing life or limb to the heat-

A flash of shifting white and orange and gold, molten vibrations of energy waving past her- intuition started up- her mind was surprised by the intuition- logic shouldn’t be intuitive, intuition and feelings aren’t efficient and they aren’t systems the universe runs on-

And yet, somehow, she knew, irrationally- it was time. Manipulation of time, in front of her-

Rose had once read in a science book somewhere about speculative workings of time- different models for how alternate timelines can be conserved in an infinitely large set-space of universes. The thing was, she didn’t know which one was right, and which ones were wrong-

But the concept stood. This existence was a being from another time, and naturally from that point she jumped to stories and expectations- tropes, Time Machines, magical space-time dilation, all those plot devices-

Rose’s brain ran search functions in that moment, and the search function coughed up some priors from various sources of fiction and documentation, and those priors told her that if this were a story, there’d be a fifty-percent chance, give or take, that the being manifesting in front of me was either me directly or one of my myriad descendants in some form-

Too many fragmentary sentences, too many dashlines closing incomplete thoughts. Rose didn’t get enough time to reason and come to a proper conclusion before the form manifested in front of her and rendered all those thoughts pointless.

Rose, standing straight in a universe of fire and entropy, looked at herself through the looking glass.

“What-"

The other Rose spoke quickly, cleanly and precisely, a crisp and neat speech that matched her crisp and neat attire. The intonation made it obvious- this was, if not repetitive, at least practiced.

Repetition combined with time travel sent up blazing warning signs, cached thoughts from all the science fiction Rose had ever read. When it comes to time travel, signs of repetition and of time loops are pretty damn obviously bad indicators-

“Wait for a second, because the rest of us are getting here in twenty seconds. I’ll explain then. Don’t say a word unless you want to unravel the timeline and condemn us all to burn in the pits of a burning green star of limitless torture and pain.”

Rose thought for a second, took some cached memories, applied them to this new consideration- establishing new hypothetical priors for a new query- and wisely determined that no, she wouldn’t talk, because frankly the idea of unraveling a timeline didn’t appeal to her much.

She would have questioned it, except that she also recognized that any accepted prior knowledge relative to time travel as applied to reality and not fiction was, perhaps not irrelevant, but put into question. Certainly, this would prove to be a great experimental test for all theories of time-

If only Rose were composed enough on the inside to consider it in such a scientific light, despite the calm demeanor she presented on the outside.

And then, in the midst of silence, a legion appeared in the skies.

“We’re here.”

All together as one voice.

Quite disturbing is what it is.

Well, they’re you, so it’s not really weird- In fact, Rose could see herself being quite amused by this. Still, Rose had enough discipline to separate the trains of thought, unravel the wrecks and form two spheres of comprehension- one of ironic coolguy humor her bro had taught her despite her nature, and the other one of babbling scientific terror at the ways that this made no sense at all-

Because this either implied an insane level of preparation, an insane quantum coincidence, or logical proof of some theory about human psychology’s stability- even if they’re all Roses, they can’t possibly be so synchronized-

They probably practiced it just to annoy me- them bastards.

And then on second thought…

Actually, let’s consider alternatives to this scenario’s current deliberate explanation.

What I have now is just the most likely probability in this fractionally miniscule probability of all things according to your priors and- Fuck, I can’t keep up with this bullshit. I can’t gun my brain fast enough to keep everything together and sane-

So of course Rose does the only thing she’s good at in the coolkid spectrum of skills, and shifts her face into neutral.

Keep up the stare, just ignore them and their smirks, Rose. You’re better than, well, yourself, and you’ve gotta show it-

“Rose, we know that you’re incredibly shocked on the inside and that you’re just hiding it. Come on, drop the fakey-fake cool bullshit. We have actual, serious issues to talk about.”

Shit.

Rose- the actual one, not any of the Roses that manifested from chronological holes in the last minute- spoke.

“So it is then obvious that we’re each near-perfect psychological replicas of each other and thus we can afford to be brutally honest and straightforward.”

That indeed made it a lot simpler, though it also presented problems, of possible Roses who might decide to deviate from the group standard- she could see herself doing it simply to be contrary, though the more acute problem is that all of them are undoubtedly better informed than she is, which puts a level of deception necessary to get her to do exactly what is necessary in this timeline for the good of the collective set of Roses- Which gave them reason to manipulate her, perhaps as a sacrifice of some sort-

And it was highly probable that there was something they wanted of her, or that in her timeline there was something that made her specifically special, otherwise they wouldn’t be there interacting with her-

She hated scenarios like this, which had up till now been purely hypothetical. How can I model for people who are psychologically exactly like myself but have reason to deviate from expectations to enforce a result that I cannot predict? Normal decision theory doesn’t cover this, timeless decision theory doesn’t either to my knowledge…

Then again, there’s nothing to worry about on a utility standpoint. You’ve read stories about this, Rose, you know that the protagonist always plies her future selves for information and cool tools- That’s what you’re going to be doing. Overrationalization will lead to failure simply by virtue of failing to seize opportunity, and rationality in its truest form must lead-

“To the path of greatest utility, of course.” Rose jumped as the words matched up perfectly with her thoughts- finely, like an articulated tendril that slithered into the cracks of her brain, and wriggled out a keyhole match like the most skilled lockpicker.

Of course. They’re all you. They were probably counting the seconds, recounting this entire stream of mental flow, and laughing because you have no idea what’s going on, Rose.

I should probably get going with the whole ‘manipulating timeflow changes to my advantage’ idea then.

But before she could open her mouth and ask questions that bubbled forth like an endless decanter, the first time-displaced Rose shook her head. “Rose- from now on we refer to you as Alpha Rose- before your questions you must understand some things.”

Rose (Alpha Rose, remember that, it’s your name now, follow the whisperings of linear time stability-) nodded, and waited for the dialogue. She would understand.

“I am Rose One, or just R1 for short. You are the Seer of Time- shut up with the internal monologue, yes the title is stupid- Anyways. You have time-manipulation powers in the form of alchemized equipment and inherent recognization of time-related stuff. So we’re all alternate versions of you-“

R1 turned around, and called over the floating Rose-crowd. “Who was Previous Alpha Rose, and what number are you up to?”

“Wait, what-“ Notice your confusion, Alpha Rose, for that is what you are, what I am. Confusion is to be expected in timetravel, and if I fuck up shit will go down-

“PAR here, Rose number 412.” At hearing those words, R1 whistled. “We’re already up to variant four hundred and thirteen? Damn.”

Rose was quite confused by all this lingo being slung around.

“Okay, hold on, what is all this- Variants? Previous Rose Alphas? That means-“ Her brain was already running conclusions based on her newly presented evidence- if there are previous Alphas, and each variant of the timeline has a Rose-

“Yeah, you got it. We splendidly fucked up our existence each and every one, so we came back.” R1 pulled out a notepad from her captchalogue system, and began drawing a diagram with a pencil produced in similar fashion.

“Okay, look here. The timeline, before this event, is singular for the purposes of our conversation. We have the same pre-Sburb experiences as you.” R1 stopped her pencil, in the middle of a straight line, and began drawing branches out in various angles from that single vertex where the line ended. “After this meeting of ourselves, the timeline branches.” Take it with stride, Strider. You must meet the expectations you are given perfectly. “I was the First Alpha Rose- and when I screwed up-“

“How’d that happen?” You have to make sure you don’t make those mistakes of all four hundred and twelve of your former failure selves-

“John got rather painfully pasted by Hephaestus. Anyways, I went back in time to this point.” R1 pointed towards the vertex where a veritable tree of branches stood. “At that point, it was probably just me, and the Second Alpha Rose was created. Of course, she fucked up too. Don’t ask how, we’ll talk about that at the end.”

Rose, for her part, nods.

“The thing is, time-traveled selves from a variant timeline, such as ourselves, are slated for destruction by the arcane workings of Sburb as an organic system-“

“Sburb’s an organic system slash game? That is mind-numbingly complex, how the hell did anyone on Earth program something so impossible by our time-“

“Magical goddamn codes from the Frog Temple, shut up because I have to keep talking before someone dies from spontaneous universe garbage disposal. Anyways, so I died pretty fast in Timeline Variant 2. Then Rose 2 had the idea of going back in time so that both she and I- Rose 1 and Rose 2, that is- would meet Rose 3, the new Alpha Rose. You see where we’re going?”

Brilliant- absolutely brilliant- I can’t imagine myself coming up with the same idea, except I actually have this empirical proof that I actually came up with such an idea in such circumstances due to this conversation- Weird time shit is what it is- and now if it happens to me I’ll carry out the exact play because my future self told me of the plan- doesn’t this fall under the paradox of spontaneous idea generation in time travel?

“And when Rose 3 fails, she does the same thing after you both instruct her to do so. Thus, an increasing amount of Roses show up to instruct a new universe variant’s Rose not to fuck up- And that’s me at this point.”

dont you dare nod Rose alternate dont

She nods.

Okay okay okayokayokay calm down just because four hundred plus universes are riding on you doesnt mean you have to feel under pressure WHO AM I FUCKING KIDDING i saw this coming from a mile away anyways dammit

“You got it, girl. We figured that as a collective Rosemind we can eventually create a perfect timeline plan where nothing goes wrong, and ensure victory, if every defeat simply leads to pulling back and restarting like from a fucking computer reboot or something. Positive induction of the integers proves that at some absurdly asymptotically huge number of Roses we’ll hit equivalently asymptotically omniscient knowledge of the entire future.”

“…Great.”

R1’s face darkened slightly. “The thing is, all those other variants are like savefiles that got overwritten, in this extended comparison. I’ve died four hundred and twelve times and I don’t remember any of them, because we started over every time, so those deaths never happened…” she sighed. “This hurts my head as much as it does yours. I’ve been through this conversation so many times it’s frustrating-“

She stands up, stretches, and flexes her legs. Your legs, in an alternate nonexistent universe. “Don’t fuck up, okay? Rose Four One Three, R413, Alpha Rose. Don’t add yourself to our mass, don’t doom yourself over and over again to the repeated deaths we suffer at a violent universe that hates us, abhors us, and kills us, and would have retroactively aborted us somehow even without us creating knots in its hair-“

She’s been through more than I have. Or she knows it at least, and will know it for until her death in our variant- how could she have possibly prepared mentally for this idea- it would have broken me, as I stand now-

Rose One jumps into the kernelsprite.

Well, Alpha Rose, Oh Mighty Chosen Seer Of Time, you didn’t see that coming did you. No you did not, and you should probably have, seeing as she’s you. Nice “seer”-ing that was there. That was some absolutely perfect, accurate, and effective prediction of future event, Rose. No, really.

“That’s better. The Magical Orb Of Epilepsy Induction +5 was getting on my nerves anyways, zooming circles around all of us.”

Rose One- Rosesprite, now- takes to the skies, and above the whole milling mass of Roses manifests a huge, glowing pink platform, upon which all the Rose-variants land.

“Come onboard, Alpha Rose. Until we die, we have a lot of chatty chat to get through and a lot of junk to shove into your brain, so you don’t suffer catastrophic universal existence failure like us in case our plans go wrong.”

Rose hesitates- she waits- But four hundred and twelve of her can’t be wrong, and so she jumps and lands on the glowing solid hologram of a rock.

Of course it’s solid, of course you could have made the landing- stop doubting yourself in the literal sense.

As Rose lands, Rosesprite flutters down next to her, and pulls out a pair of runed, decorated sticks, no, wands, that seemed to form mobius loops with surface area and to twist inwards upon themselves from a captcha card- Rose could see, could feel and know a potential inside them-

“One pair of time machines for Alpha Rose, right here. Don’t ask questions.”

And yet, Rose couldn’t resist at least thinking her unvoiced questions.

There is no way this can possibly convince me, absolutely no way, the time machine is a pair of wands, how can the technology be compressed into such tiny things- where could is it possibly derive such exponentially large amounts of power from anyways? This makes no sense, argh-

As the flying platform began to move through the warm air, Rose asks one last question, the one of greatest expected utility in a new world of incomprehensibly complex mysteries and systems-

“Where are you taking us?”

“To your Denizen- that’s your planet’s final boss, by the way- Anyways, it’ll only take about two hundred of us to kill him at our skill levels, and we can spin on over to the other planets and kill their Denizens too, and then we go and hopefully by that time there’s enough of us left to kill the final boss before Jack Noir kills the Queen- I’ll tell you who those are later- before Jade enters the game and gets her own planet- then we just wait for her to show up before we claim the final prize and we will have everything beat. Sound good?”

Alpha Rose, the Seer of Time, has to admit- the plan has a nice sound to it. Elegance and effectiveness- not to mention style.

Don't mind me, I'm just imagining myself, leading an army of my timeclones, to break the game and win it easily- and when it’s all over and done, I’ll be all cool and shit just like Bro would want because this is the STRIDER WAY OF DOING THINGS- oh yes, it is.

Yes, this plan pleases Rose quite a bit. It would, of course- it’s the collective brew of all the Roses of her party- and their collective mental power is, Rose has to admit, quite impressive.

She’s always had a soft spot for flagrantly outrageous plans that break the rules in every possible way and yet still offer a greater chance of victory than anything else.

This is why we GIVE ROSE ALL THE TIME POWERS, ALL OF THEM.

Fixed that for ya.

@Kat: Yeah, everyone's human, including the Lusii. I probably should have mentioned that earlier, lol.

@Sionnan: Um... um... fuck. EXILES! Write some exiles being adorable and SRSBZNS as they are wont to do.

[Graven_Image]

Indystuck

Chapter 4

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Benli McUrist had a vested interest in getting a new crossbow.

But to get his new crossbow, he had to "download" a "video" "game".

But to get this "video" "game" he needed to procure a "computer", since the PDA he had been given for Saturnalia by Steve was clearly not up to the task.

And the only sellers of "computers" around these parts were the Elves.

Benli "hated" Elves.

So naturally, he simply "stole" a computer when none of the pointy-eared blowhards were looking.

Then he told a bunch of Goblins where the Elves were, for giggles.

OPEN PESTERLOG

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dwarvenSniper began pestering neckwearAficionado

DS: alright lad i got the computational thingamajigger
DS: what now
NA: Just wait.
NA: Soon I'll be in the game, and I'll relay your instructions.
NA: Until, you may become inebriated or something similar.
DS: pfff dinna have ta tell me twice
DS: cheers

dwarvenSniper ceased pestering neckwearAficionado

beeeeep

"What the- Oh bollocks."

OPEN PESTERLOG

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hide spoiler

nanoMechanic began pestering dwarvenSniper

NM: so
DS: oh bloody hell what do you want
NM: i guess this is the day you ruin everything
DS: lassy listen ta me
DS: i have not yet once slipped up at mah post
DS: never have i missed a goblin
DS: i am not going to mess anything up
NM: you still don't get it
NM: this goes a lot farther than your post
NM: or this game you are about to play
DS: uh huh
DS: i still havent screwed annathin up
DS: so how could it possibly affect anything if it hasnt and wont happen
NM: you dwarves
NM: are so stubborn
DS: yeah well i havent made a bad decision yet
NM: as far as you know
DS: and i DO know
DS: so kindly stop buggin me and move on with yer life
DS: bye

dwarvenSniper ceased pestering nanoMechanic

Far away, across space and time...

A Boy of the Meaty persuasion stands atop a clutch of recently-punched-to-death foes. Outside the gauntlet of deathtraps he was recently duped into entering, he finds, not a forest, but a Land of Blood and Blades.

He leapt, vaulted, and otherwise went over the miles of dangerous terrain that led to his house.

If this was what the whole game was like, there was probably no way the Kid wouldn't want to play.

Finally making it inside, he found the spritely, spikey, ghostly version of his girlfriend waiting for him.

OPEN SPRITELOG

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SAWGIRLSPRITE: Wow, well done.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: I almost didn't expect you to make it out!
MEAT BOY: yeah thanks for all the help miss helping person
MEAT BOY: i really appreciate all the HELP you gave me during that
MEAT BOY: like you were supposed to
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Oh, wow, Meat Boy.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Don't tell me you're bitter.
MEAT BOY: little bitty bit
MEAT BOY: so how about we cut the crap right here
MEAT BOY: why don't you tell me what's going on
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Oh, fine.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: What do you want to know?

Finally, he was getting somewhere.

And somewhere farther away than the Land of Blood and Blades, a monarch sat, awaiting the arrival of a kernel.

It landed in its appointed tower, granting her its powers.

And these were powers she would thoroughly enjoy.

[lucidSeraph]

@Graven: YES. Hahaha oh man I haven't even played half these games, but I love Benli. Oh man.

[Cas]

Oh god, seconding the Mom/Bro fic so hard.

If I could also throw an idea for a Striderfic forward, maybe another episode from when Dave was a baby? I'd imagine that, coolkid though he is, Bro at 17 would have no clue how to do baby-care stuff like bottlefeeding (I can imagine him just throwing whole cow's milk into a sippy cup or something and giving it to Dave XD) or what to do about crying, and having to learn through painstaking trial and error. I dunno, just...anything baby/toddler Dave is so adorable |D

[apocalypticCritic]

Graven: Benli is awesome. And of course it's gonna be a Dwarf who fucks everything up. It's what they're best at.

Mom/Bro Fic sounds kinda interesting. If it drives me to the horn pile, I'm gonna cry.

.... That statement seems kinda redundant....

[Blox]

@Zerovirus
That. Was. Awesome 8D


@Anyone, I have an idea ~ A Masquerade B)

[DJ-P0N3]

@Anyone, I have an idea ~ A Masquerade B)

Go on.

[KarneWarrior]

@Zerovirus
That. Was. Awesome 8D


@Anyone, I have an idea ~ A Masquerade B)

Speaking of masquerades I seem to have a strange thing for killing people while they're dancing.

MD, Eridan, anyone I write kills at leats one person during or immediately after dancing with them. It just says EVIL so well!~

[Blox]

@Anyone, I have an idea ~ A Masquerade B)

Go on.

Not really sure on a plot as such, but I feel it could be something introduced to the trolls by the kids. Of course the trolls would probably end up ruining everything, with Terezi Slobbering on peoples masks (Damn those sequins are tasty!) and Karkat raging at everyone who talks to him. And of course a jealous.forever alone Eridan xD

OR you could do it in relation to the steampunk homestuck AU

OR do something completely different xD


*e* Ninja'd D8

@KarneWarrior
Murder on the dance floor ~

[Rimbaum]

HERE YOU ALL ARE TALKING ABOUT ROSE!FIC WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS.

This makes my Rose/Kanaya fluff feel too well-timed for its own good. OH well! Have at it anyways.

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Why was this so hard? Strange how going toe-to-toe against massive creatures, cutting off a friend's legs, and facing the destruction of nearly her entire species was relatively bearable in the face of trying to admit some very flushed feelings towards someone else.

Especially when that 'someone' was of another race entirely. True, Rose somewhat looked like and sometimes acted very much like a troll, but the differences were there. Nowhere else was the divide more clear than in the human and troll takes on romance. Still, it wasn't like Kanaya was proposing to have a kismesis with Rose, like Eridan seemed to have taken himself up on. At least a matespritship was very similar to what humans called love.

That didn't make things any easier, though. While the others who'd developed red feelings for the humans were largely what they might consider 'heterosexual' relationships, Kanaya knew all too well that Rose would likely not return her feelings, if only for the fact that as a human, she couldn't get it out of her head that Kanaya was female. Therefore, unlikely to be a viable partner. Unless Rose simply didn't care, or realized that between two species, no one would be 'viable partners' when it came to the process of reproduction.

It was expected when Karkat started yelling for the others to go greet their guests. But he was looking forward to seeing Jade, and that was coloring the tones of his shouts. Still, Kanaya took one last look at the screen that showed her last message to Rose.


[GA]: I Look Forward To Meeting You Rose
[TT]: So do I, Kanaya.
[GA]: There Is Something I Wish To Tell You When You Arrive
[TT]: Oh?
[GA]: I Am Not Sure How You Will Take It
[GA]: But I Wish For It To Be A Surprise
[TT]: I think I have an idea of what this surprise is.
[TT]: I'll be looking forward to it.
[TT]: See you soon.


Kanaya turned around, only to face Rose. She was intimidating up close, even moreso considering the strange relationship humans called love. "I recall you saying something about a surprise. Would it happen to be something along these lines?"

And then Rose kissed her. It wasn't forceful, or hesitant, but merely... Right.

[BluddoSW]

Indystuck

Chapter 4

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Benli McUrist had a vested interest in getting a new crossbow.

But to get his new crossbow, he had to "download" a "video" "game".

But to get this "video" "game" he needed to procure a "computer", since the PDA he had been given for Saturnalia by Steve was clearly not up to the task.

And the only sellers of "computers" around these parts were the Elves.

Benli "hated" Elves.

So naturally, he simply "stole" a computer when none of the pointy-eared blowhards were looking.

Then he told a bunch of Goblins where the Elves were, for giggles.

OPEN PESTERLOG

show spoiler

hide spoiler

dwarvenSniper began pestering neckwearAficionado

DS: alright lad i got the computational thingamajigger
DS: what now
NA: Just wait.
NA: Soon I'll be in the game, and I'll relay your instructions.
NA: Until, you may become inebriated or something similar.
DS: pfff dinna have ta tell me twice
DS: cheers

dwarvenSniper ceased pestering neckwearAficionado

beeeeep

"What the- Oh bollocks."

OPEN PESTERLOG

show spoiler

hide spoiler

nanoMechanic began pestering dwarvenSniper

NM: so
DS: oh bloody hell what do you want
NM: i guess this is the day you ruin eveything
DS: lassy listen ta me
DS: i have not yet once slipped up at mah post
DS: never have i missed a goblin
DS: i am not going to mess anything up
NM: you still don't get it
NM: this goes a lot farther than your post
NM: or this game you are about to play
DS: uh huh
DS: i still havent screwed annathin up
DS: so how could it possibly affect anything if it hasnt and wont happen
NM: you dwarves
NM: are so stubborn
DS: yeah well i havent made a bad decision yet
NM: as far as you know
DS: and i DO know
DS: so kindly stop buggin me and move on with yer life
DS: bye

dwarvenSniper ceased pestering nanoMechanic

Far away, across space and time...

A Boy of the Meaty persuasion stands atop a clutch of recently-punched-to-death foes. Outside the gauntlet of deathraps he was recently duped into entering, he finds, not a forest, but a Land of Blood and Blades.

He leapt, vaulted, and otherwise went over the miles of dangerous terrain that led to his house.

If this was what the whole game was like, there was probably no way the Kid wouldn't want to play.

Finally making it inside, he found the Spritely, spikey, ghost version of his girlfriend waiting for him.

OPEN SPRITELOG

show spoiler

hide spoiler

SAWGIRLSPRITE: Wow, well done.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: I almost didn't expect you to make it out!
MEAT BOY: yeah thanks for all the help miss helping person
MEAT BOY: i really appreciate all the HELP you gave me during that
MEAT BOY: like you were supposed to
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Oh, wow, Meat Boy.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Don't tell me you're bitter.
MEAT BOY: little bitty bit
MEAT BOY: so how about we cut the crap right here
MEAT BOY: why don't you tell me what's going on
SAWGIRLSPRITE: Oh, fine.
SAWGIRLSPRITE: What do you want to know?

Finally, he was getting somewhere.

And somewhere farther away than the Land of Blood and Blades, a monarch sat, awaiting the arrival of a kernel.

It landed in its appointed tower, granting her its powers.

And these were powers she would thoroughly enjoy.

nanoMechanist...

is that...?

YES YES

I LOVE YOU FOREVER

i should hope to see Trilby in here somewhere too please please

[lucidSeraph]

@Rimbaum - AH YES one of my favorite pairings! Short, sweet, and to the point.

[KarneWarrior]

...
...
...
Trollesbians.

[Rimbaum]

@Rimbaum - AH YES one of my favorite pairings! Short, sweet, and to the point.

...
...
...
Trollesbians.

I am a shameless lover of femslash fluff. Rose/Kanaya is just too good a pairing to pass up.

[Kassiopeia]

@Rimbaum that was very sweet You cannot hope to outdo Rose/Kanaya in a ship-off. They are simply the cutest there is.

...
...
...
Trollesbians.

really, dude?

CG: HUMANS HAVE A WORD FOR THAT?
EB: yes.
CG: HOW IS THAT EVEN A THING?

[Nexev]

Aradias Trollizan.

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Aradia floated to the lair of her denizen. She knew where it was, her future selves explained everything.

Well almost everything. They never spoke of the Denizen itself, even the voices are silent on the matter. They only urged her not to be fooled. She was okay with that she guessed, she was okay with allot of things.

As the enemies surged around her, she started to wonder, just who was this denizen? Why was it such a secret to her?
Finally she reached an arena like clearing in the ruins the denizen called home. She knew this was where the denizen lived.
All she had to do was wait.

From behind her a whip cracked, followed by a chuckle, knowing that this must be her denizen, Aradia turned around to face her.
Ever since the accident, Aradia has rarely been surprised at anything. This, this was an exception.
Bright yellow eyes, a silly cowboy hat that she liked to where while exploring ruins, and a slender figure that indicated a more nobler blood then the maroon that her t-shirt indicated her to have.
There was no doubt, this was her.
But it was impossible. She wasn’t dead.
“Hello” The imposter said cheerfully. “I haven’t seen many robots come around here. Did that creep Equius send you?” The imposters face turned to a grimace, “He’s a big creep, if your some sortof gift, please go back to him and tell him I said no thanks.”
Aradia struggled a bit to calm down, a act that was alien to her till then, finally she managed to speak “No, you don’t get it, I’m Aradia, your just some Denizen.” The imposters face fell, suddenly memories were flashing by her, the accident, her revival, the game.
“No, dear gog, what did you become?” The imposter said to Aradia, her face filled with horror. “What did I become?”
The denizen’s mind began to work on overdrive, she could change this, all she needed was one of the real her’s timeboxes. There was no choice then. With a flick of her wrist she sent her whip at the machine. Caught surprised, Aradia had no time to block and the whip left a nasty cut in her face. As the blue blood trickled down Aradia went on the offensive. She knew she had the edge with her time powers, augmented psychic skills, and her robotic strength, but something pushed her to go all out. It was unnecessary but for some reason she was compelled to see this mockery of her wrecked.
As the maroon blood started to dry on the floor the wounded denizen reached out, in a brief instant it managed to touch one of the time boxes, in a flash she was gone.
Aradia was surprised; she could have sworn that the denizen was dead. With her and Vriska she seemed to be having a problem at actually killing people and not just fatally wounding them.
Then the realization hit her, what she just did, she tried to kill herself just for a few grist, she was no better than Vriska. And now her denizen is gone, and she couldn’t even get the grist. There were other ways to get grist though, the voices reassured her though, no one would have to know what happened here.
Aradia stared at the spot where the Denezin once laid bleeding. If the Denizen went to the past, she could doom this timeline, make everything nonexistent. Maybe a better future can be made instead of this one. For some reason, Aradia was okay with this.
She had to be.
Sweeps in the past (and quite many)
A doomed Denizen blinks into existence, she surveys her surroundings, the frog ruins, she remembers them well. She has no time for remembrance however, she has to act NOW. As fast as her psychically augmented legs can take her, she rushed to the ruin where she unearths the artifact she was looking for. Crosby, whatever the hell you are, please don’t fail now.
The Crosbytop turns on and at once the denizen starts installing Trollian, her wounds weren’t even fatal, her denizen enhanced strength guaranteed her this. However she still knew she had to die, if she didn’t die, then she was a stable time loop, and that meant she failed.
Finally Trollian finishes installing, she gets to work immediately, she knows who to contact. She can fix this.
She has to.

To be honest, I think it's pretty shitty, but I needed this done cause I had a cool idea for a AU I wanted to try and this is how it starts. Unfortunatly my complete lack of patience means that I probbaly would completly fail at the pesterlogs and thus mean I would never get it done.

So I'm going to say it right here.

And I will proceed to tell you as such, which I am doing thusly.

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So Aradizen manages to talk to Vriska, who has not crippled Tavros and has just gotten her final level, which she is pretty stoke about. She is pretty nice at this point, her lusus hasn't upped the demand to make it extremely necessary to kill everyone she flarps with, so she manages to only kill whoever Tezeri says is okay to kill. This is actually the reason she had a kismesis with Eridan, she didn't approve of his kill all strategy.

As previously mentioned, her lusus starts to demand more food and Vriska has to kill innocents, which starts to mess with her and make her the huged bitch she winds up being.

However Ariadizen contacts Vriska and warns her, Vriska doesn't belive her until Aradizen mentions how all Lusus have the same psychic powers as there assigned grubs.

Vriska, realizing Spidermom as been playing her for a fool, goes and kills her, losing the Noneightfold eye in the process.

The fic was going to be pretty happy go lucky-ish, sortof extremly lighthearted since I sadfics and such are not my thing.

My main reasons of trying it was that I wanted to make a AU that wasn't a blood swap like so many others, and as a counterpoint to the sadfics and super darkfics that are so popular.

Buuuut since I am extremly useless, (as the shitty story in the above spoiler shows) you won't get to see it.

If anyone else likes the idea, feel free to use it, I'll help in whatever way you want.

[Sionnan]

So I hear you like awkward pairings, forum.

Bro/Mom fic.

It is as gritty and awkward as you would expect. You don't get a summary, either, because I can't bundle it up in a neat sentence.

Edit: Just to be absolutely clear, Bro is absolutely of legal age in this fic (i.e. above 21). Mom just refers to him as being a "boy" because of the age difference between them.

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It was never fully dark in the room, and for that reason she wasn't entirely comfortable. There was no way to hide this, and anemic streamers of dusky light painted the wild tufts of his fair hair a paler color.

He was drunk. He was anguished.

He had his head down on his forearms and was sobbing like a tired child. One skinny hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer, and several dead soldiers littered the table and ground around him. The motel logo made its slow revolution, the low moan of the massive stalk twisting filling the quiet air, and the light bathed the room in a bloody neon, the dark spark of the bottles taking on a flat patina.

Vivian was not good at this. Her husband- God, it seemed so long ago, but it was less than five years- would work himself up from a snit into a towering rage in the face of her frigidity. He would make comments about her openess. It would segue from her disinterest to her (assumed) distrust, and eventually, it always landed into the subject of the bedroom. About her complete lack of sexual interest in him; she was like a mannequin. She might as well have been. Many times, much like the mother she swore she would never become, she would calmly sip three fingers of brandy as he ranted.

Three became four, and then five, and by the time Jack had exhausted himself or his rage, she had stopped understanding much of what he said.

She wanted to tell him she wasn't some bitch. She couldn't orgasm on command. But like the lady she was raised to be, she instead checked her watch, and went to the kitchen to make supper. It was amazing she never set anything aflame, given that she was so soused she couldn't read the numbers on the stove. God only knew what Jack did, because he only came in when she had finished setting the table with the heritage white china and the crystal, but with that tacky stainless steel dinnerware his sister gave them, and she poured herself a generous glass of the wine that would compliment their dinner.

She never rememberd if he apologized for his tantrums. The wine was too good, and even though the area was prone to sudden and violent storms, she enjoyed the stars though the expanse of windows if they were out. She named the constellations, though she never could recall if it was in her head or aloud. Jack would leave, and she would slowly savor the silence and the wine as she waited for the stars to make their move.

And here, in this disgusting little motel room, they had made a check.

Or, rather, they had made their check long ago, but Vivian was really only beginning to comprehend that now. In the face of this child's distress over her calmly delivered sentence.

She supposed that it was acceptable for him to mourn like this. It had taken him all day to reach this point, and Vivian watched it lurk in the corners of his eyes, the lines in his forehead, the thick bob of his gullet as he fought down something unnameable and terrible. She wondered what it was like to be so affected by something; the only thing that came so close for her was Rose, but even then she approached the little girl with the same unflappability that characterized her entire life.

And in turn, the child mirrored her. It was unnerving. She was a Machiavellian little girl, and as much as Vivian marveled at the intellect and interest that was housed in that tiny, chubby little shell, it was just as much uncanny.

When they reached the hotel room, he had produced several six packs out of nowhere, though she suspected he had visited the convenience store when she used the pay phone out on the street. He offered her some; she took one, and began watching him. He was a talker, like Jack. Though unlike Jack, the subject of his conversation was never about himself. It was about everything and nothing; about the meaning of life and how the lowest life had the best probability of surviving the end of all life. About the child he raised in a small apartment, living on one lump of cash to the next she gathered, and the terrifying and hilarious experience of single parenthood. The beer in her hand was not the brand she favored, and it got warm and flat as she held it, dangling over one crossed knee, her hand propping up her chin as she listened to him.

Eventually, she warmed to his heat, his ardour for life.

She began asking questions. He was an honest and direct young man, and he answered them, even ones that stole the slightly inebriated smile from his face, and replaced it with repeated trips to the rim of his bottle.

She finally asked him what was it like to know the date he was going to die.

He had blinked, and she suddenly understood that the gravity of the situation had not fallen upon him yet. Like all young creatures, the idea of his demise had been a distant concept. Another boy just like him, who liked cheap beer and rap. Anybody. But not him.

And like all adolescents, he grieved more keenly than an adult like Vivian couldn't begin to remember doing. Her own childhood seemed an eternity away.

His shoulders shook, the wrinkled tshirt he was wearing forming new folds with his motion. His free hand was curled on the table, face hidden in the arm. He was trying to breathe in between his sobs, and it produced a hitched rhythm. The air was beginning to take on the warm, wet scent of tears.

Vivian gradually realized that she felt responsible for causing this level of distress. It was a realization that drew upon her, her carefully styled brows gathering together as it came to her in increments. The abstract ponderousness of the cosmos that constantly swept her mind free of trouble was piece by piece getting cluttered with snatched impressions of the boy and his pain. He raised his head, and the security lights from the parking lot painted his profile with a limn of light, barely showing the puffy eyelids and the red tracks the tears left down his fair skin.

He was saying something, somewhat incoherently, about needing to check in on Dave. She belatedly remembered that was the name of the child... their child... that he raised alone. He was staggering to his feet, rubbing his face, the threat of his own mortality lost in his sense of responsibility. He collapsed on one of the beds, legs folding under him, as he took up the bedside phone.

Even though his fingers shook and twitched, it only took him one try to dial the number. In the silence, Vivian could hear the deep gulps of spasms left over from his crying. She checked her watch, a tiny sigh escaping her. The watery light was barely adequate to show the face, but she determined the baby sitter she hired should have put Rose to bed by now.

He started to talk. His voice was a little strained, but held insistent wry humor. He addressed the younger child like a peer, all the while peppering him with questions like, did you eat, did you lock the doors, did you, are you, will you.

Goodnight.

I love you.

No, nothing. Go to bed. Don't watch Jerry Springer, your mind will fall out of your ears, and then how will I explain that to your teachers.

The phone was replaced with a soft click of rigid plastic. He sighed, trapped in his throat, reaching up one arm to scrub at his face. It still didn't have the sinewy strength of a man, and the lines of it travelled smoothly from elbow to wrist with barely a buldge of bone.

It was then that Vivian's heart broke just a little. She hardly noticed it at all.

She stood, smoothing out her dress, and in the close room, the rustle of the fabric against her skin sounded like water over glass. The pink took on a gaudy hue; it was a demure rose color, but in this lighting it seemed deeper.

He didn't notice as she approached, but flinched away when she sat next to him. He let out a surprised breath, and murmured something about not doing that to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He was warm from alcohol and emotion, and his shirt was a little wet where his head had hung, tears sliding down his face and dropping from his sharp chin to the farbric.

She put one slender hand on the side of his head, and drew his head to her chest. He resisted at first, stiffening, but she persisted, and he leaned against her like a wary cat.

It took him several seconds before his entire body relaxed at once. He slumped, the lines of his body falling against hers, and his weight forced her to put her other arm over his back and far arm.

Vivian held him.

---

At some point, he was on her. On her, in her, and his scent filled her mouth and nose, and he smelled of young flesh and warmth and sweat and tears. His breathing was ragged, close to her ear, and he made harsh little sounds that escaped his throat and cut through the rumble of the sign outside. The light spilled across his back, in valleys and peaks of muscles and bones, the liquid of the blanket slipping down around the swell of his buttocks.

The rhythm in his hips was so steady it was possessing, and Vivian thought of the sonorous pulse of the stars and the deep spaces in between, and her mind directed automatically to the pinpricks of light

to the streaks across the sky

burning closer and closer to earth

and she did not come, because all she could think of was that the boy on top of her, in her, filling her, was a dead boy.

And her thin arms arced across his back, and she cradled his head against her shoulder with her own, and she rocked with his rhythm. In the dark, she heard a soft, sibillant breath issue from her teeth, between her pursed lips and she knew that she was hushing him. "Shh, shh, shh."

He was too drunk to come, and eventually he wound himself down, the rhythm falling apart beat by beat, pulse by pulse. He gasped a shuddering last breath, a tremor seizing his hips, ruffling the bedclothes. He left her, falling from the bed to clamber up on the other, sprawling on it with loose limbs compounded by youth and inebreiation. She drew the covers over her breasts, the coarse weave rasping on her nipples, and she listened to his hitching breathing in the dark. She fell asleep to his breath steadying, and woke again sometime in the night, the too bright light of the bathroom spilling into the room. She lifted herself with one arm, groggily, and saw him sitting in his boxers, knees drawn to his chest, hands clenched in his hair, in the bathtub. There was nothing in his eyes, now bare of the juvenile sun shades he wore. She fell asleep again.

-----

He was so young. He was sitting on one of the faded, steel-frame chairs, one leg jittering, betraying his otherwise impeccably stolid face and posture. She cooked breakfast in the kitchenette, forbidding him to help when he tried. She served him silently, sitting down across from him and pouring some of her vodka into her portion of orange juice. He eyed it, and then her, and that wry smile, the one that said he'd seen it all and by now thought it was funny, crossed his face.

They ate in silence.

She left him at the bus stop with a peck to his cheek and a wave as she left to get to her car. She could see him watching her as she drove away, until his form was obscured by the desert dust.

[lucidSeraph]

Already told you how much I love this one, bro. Exactly what I wanted out of Bro/Mom.

[Kassiopeia]

Sionnan - oh my god. I think I like this the best. How in the name of god did you write this so fast?? There isn't a line out of place. Probably one of the best short fics I've ever read, goddamn. I have already been converted to Mom/Bro by Seraph, but... god. This is so heartbreaking, maybe more so than standard sadfic. So... bleak but warm. ALL THE EMOTIONS. I HAVE THEM. SORRY FOR MY INCOHERENCE.

TL;DR: that was really quite beautiful. /rereads

[apocalypticCritic]

Hm.... Not hornpile worthy, but a little sad. How did Mom know that Bro was going to die, though? Was it that she (and by extension the other guardians) is also doomed to die? Perhaps because they are paradox clones, and thus doomed by Skaia. So maybe Dad is the only one who is not going to die, considering we already know that Nanna and Grandpa are both dead, and were both paradox clones of themselves....

Hm.... I guess that is an IDE/Theory....

[Domoz]

Ehe. I sure hope someone is enjoying this as much as I am.
Also-I need to reeeeeeeead.

Low Bloods
(Aradia)

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You are practicing your archery.

You are quite good at it, really.

And just so everyone's clear, your name is ARADIA MEGIDO.



Practice was perfect again today; six shots, all in the bulls eye, as always. Such skill is obviously suitable for someone of your superior colors.


Not seeing a need to practice further, you return to your hive. A nice big tower situated comfortably in the middle of fucking nowhere


You make your way up to the roof, your favorite place to come after archery practice.

Your name is ARADIA MEGIDO, and as we have seen, you are very good at archery. Your blood is the highest shade of blue, something you are very proud of.
You constantly find yourself stumped by many things based around technology, which is just as well, considering that you love old things and live in a SEMI HISTORICAL TOWER. It's been here since you had the drones build it, anyways.
On that note, when you're not practicing weapons skills, you're usually out digging things up in the woods around your home. Your hive is covered with the neat things that trolls before you have left behind.
Your chumhandle is aeviternalArefy and D--> Unfortunately you are a little full of your own b100 b100d.


You make your way downstairs, it's getting early. No sense in staying up and burning your beautiful skin and oh shit look who's pestering you now.
If it were (almost) anyone else you would ignore them. But no, it's her. She would pester you right as your about to go to bed.


Open Pesterlog

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araneidanGridelin began pestering aeviternalArefy
AG: Ahahahahahahahaha, h88888888y Aradia, guess wwwwwwwwhat I need you to do????????
AA-->wait hold on
AA-->could it possibly be something to do with Flarp?
AG: You guessed it!!!!!!!! Can you fucking 8elive that my second wwwwwwwwwould 8ail on me like that????????
AG: Wwwwwwwwhat a fucking looser, right???????
AA-->I...
AA-->Okay, he is below me on the spectrum. He is, in fact, a 100ser
AG: Atta girl!!!!!!!!
AG: Anyways, I need you to 8e my second!!!!!!!!!
AA--> I'm very sorry, Vriska, you know that I don't flarp.
AG:::::|
AG: I guess I forgoooooooot.
AG: 8ut you knowwwwwwww wwwwwwwwwh8t???????? I'm just gonna forg8t you, your not evvvvvvvven my hottest iron, anywwwwwwwways.
AG: So fuck you, Megiiiiiiiido!!!!!!!
araneidanGridelin ceased pestering aeviternalArefy

Ughhh, fuck, you HATE having to defer to such an insane bitch. At least she doesn't bother you often, although when she does, it always seems to be about flarping, you wonder where you got the idea that you flarped, anyways?


Or you would, if you didn't secretly flarp.
That's right, Araida Megido, more famously known as ROBIN GOOD


You wish you weren't so shitty at coming up with names.

A/N

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Yes, apparently aradia has humongous lump horns now. And her hair is really inconsistent.
Right now, she looks kind of like [REDACTED] will, although Aradia is rich enough to buy an entire wardrobe from [ANOTHER AS OF YET UNREAVEALED TROLL]
...Aradia and Vriska don't really have very much to do with what Eridan did, so I guess I didn't have to shift times like I thought I would have to... huh.

Anyways, I really would like it if you guys would make suggestions for who I should do next, I can't decide, and I don't want to bother my RP group about it like I did last time... You can even make me do a proper intro for Eridan :T

Look, I will even spice it up and show you who's been revealed as what so far.
Mutant Red-Eridan
Jade Green- Equuis
Equuis Blue- Aradia
Eridan Purple-Vriska
._______.
._________________.
Pleaaaaase?

@Kass- I think this mostly belongs in Fanfic, I mean... It's fanmade fiction of the characters, there's just a lot more pictures in it than usual. Although I will admit that I didn't do much writing on Eridan's...