MSPA Fanfiction IV

[egregiousBass]

I remind myself of that one person who did an epic rant on Bro when he died. I found it again by searching "personal bullshit".

Andrew: Your short presentation has managed to convey how truly awesome bro is in a way that not even I could pull off in 3000 pages of Homestuck.

But that's beside the point. Although I could flesh this out in a fanfic but then I'd get jailed.

[KarneWarrior]

Trail by Void
The Orchestra of Desolation

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Six weeks of schoolfeeding. Two weeks of appraisal by emotionless drones, checking for cripples, broken grubs who would be used to feed the mother grub with her weekly stew of proteins and vitamins. Eight weeks altogether, and they had made it out.

They could talk now, although it was grubspeak, and no adult troll could make the right noises for it. They understood eachother well enough, and that was all that mattered. But the advantage they had in teamwork was gone. The grubs had begun to realize what they were missing, and were joining together in tenative alliances. Betrayals were common, though, and so they held little advantage.

But it wasn't the others they had to be worried about. After they were forced out of the schoolfeeding chambers they had made their way into a network of caves and tunnels, filled with tiny, vicious spiders. Thus far they had managed to survive, but lately Iksti complained about feeling weak, or sick. Azla was concerned. He told himself that he was afraid for his own skin, afraid of losing Iksti because she protected him. He tried to tell himself he was just like everyone else.

But when he admitted to himself the truth, he genuinely just wanted Iksti alive so Iksti could be alive.

The duo rested on a rock, heads lying on thin spines of legs. They pressed close, enjoying the warmth in the always cool cave system, not speaking for a while, and then striking up small conversation. It was a good day, for both of them.

Until Iksti shuddered and groaned.

"What is it? Are you going to vomit again?"

"I hope not..."

Iksti pressed closer to Azla. He nuzzled her slightly before lifting up on four legs to get a good look at the surroundings. He stayed in that alert state, watching the dark corners and the entrances to their small cavern.

When he looked back down, Iksti seemed to be asleep. However, her hind end was moving rythmically, spinning silk back and forth over her body. The silk was a whitish-blue, the same hue as her blood, but lighter by far.

She was spinning a cocoon.

He breathed a deep breath. He was terrified. He would have no help anymore. Not until she was free. She couldn't fight in that state, she couldn't hold off any advancing spiders.

But he could.

He stood a little straighter, even more alert. I won't let her down. I can't let her die. Not here, not now. Not after what we've done for eachother. I've invested too much time already keeping her alive.

The darkness pressed in like a dismal blanket. The silence made it's own symphony, a orchestra of desolation and fear. The halls were empty, but they didn't feel that way.

"I'm alone. And for her, I can stay that way."

But not for long.

A/N

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So I want to know what your thoughts are on this story, what you want to see more of, what you want worked on, and anything else you can think of about Trial by Void.

And before you ask, Yes. Yes they do.

[Wigmund]

I didn't intend to start a discussion about anything, they're 13 years/6 sweeps old and trying to figure stuff out. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't, but right now they've found something that sorta works.

Since I've never been in a relationship, I have no idea what I'm writing/talking about. It's all by-the-seat-of-my-pants, "this feels kinda right/works in my head" stuff and what I imagine I'd do if I was in similar circumstances.

[Kassiopeia]

I remind myself of that one person who did an epic rant on Bro when he died. I found it again by searching "personal bullshit".

Oh my god XD Maybe I just like Bro too much, but there is taking the comic seriously and then there's taking the comic seriously. That guy... wow.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Karne: I'm still really enjoying this! I'm mildly curious as to whether Iksti had to pupate irregularly or what (since Azla does not yet feel the same urge) but I'm prepared to wait if that's upcoming. I'm not sure what to say about what I want to see "more of" without knowing what kind of time span you want to cover (just infancy? Beyond?), though I guess I'd like both, if and how possible.

[KarneWarrior]

No, Iksti just is doing it first. Azla is going under before she hatches, and then she has to watch his cocoon like he is hers. And I'm covering their whole lives, although the trials will be a big part, only skipping months instead of years. After they get out to the surface with their lusii I'll skip from important event to important event.

I may kind of gloss over the bit with the drone, maybe? At least for the Matespiritships, Kismessii I don't see as having anything we would see as dirty, just a very vicious duel or something. Serrated knives, bloodshed, that sort of thing. Finally something gets lopped off and that's wrung out over the bucket and the drone wanders off to the neighbors.

But yeah I'm following Azla through his whole life, with Iksti as a very, very major character.

[lucidSeraph]

Derailing talk of things to give you moar AU!Dave fic.

The formatting in this is WAY too intense for me to bother re-posting it here, so instead, EXTERNAL LINK TO AO3 TIME! NOW PART OF A SERIES.

Violetesence Part 2: Convergent Recombination

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I put this spoiler here in case people were just skimming the thread and didn't realize that was a link.

seriously the fic is here guys

[Sionnan]

I remind myself of that one person who did an epic rant on Bro when he died. I found it again by searching "personal bullshit".

Andrew: Your short presentation has managed to convey how truly awesome bro is in a way that not even I could pull off in 3000 pages of Homestuck.

But that's beside the point. Although I could flesh this out in a fanfic but then I'd get jailed.

Wow. Haha, I mean... just wow. Maybe this says a lot about how I grew up, but did no one have significantly older siblings? Or, like, siblings in general? Half of how I write Bro comes from the stuff my older brother would have done to me.

@lucidSeraph: this part felt a little more jumbled, a little more rushed than your other installments, but I honestly think that it works in favor of the piece. Everything's crazy and tumultuous, and it works to translate what the kids are feeling. All the same, you had some great turns of phrases, and you've got a great grasp of characterization, given that you believably mesh personalities and typing and thinking quirks. Good work.

[SkaianRedeemer]

No, Iksti just is doing it first. Azla is going under before she hatches, and then she has to watch his cocoon like he is hers. And I'm covering their whole lives, although the trials will be a big part, only skipping months instead of years. After they get out to the surface with their lusii I'll skip from important event to important event.

I may kind of gloss over the bit with the drone, maybe? At least for the Matespiritships, Kismessii I don't see as having anything we would see as dirty, just a very vicious duel or something. Serrated knives, bloodshed, that sort of thing. Finally something gets lopped off and that's wrung out over the bucket and the drone wanders off to the neighbors.

But yeah I'm following Azla through his whole life, with Iksti as a very, very major character.

Sounds good to me! Just continue at your own pace, then, and it should be good!

I've got a different take on Drones and Kismeses but that's a different fic for another time, surreptitiously placed off-forum. *shifty*

[lucidSeraph]

@lucidSeraph: this part felt a little more jumbled, a little more rushed than your other installments, but I honestly think that it works in favor of the piece. Everything's crazy and tumultuous, and it works to translate what the kids are feeling. All the same, you had some great turns of phrases, and you've got a great grasp of characterization, given that you believably mesh personalities and typing and thinking quirks. Good work.

Yeah, I kind of whacked it together today during work, and I had a ridiculously hectic day, so I was jumping up every five minutes to answer phones and solve various crises x_X; That said, part of the craziness is that David's getting all these fragmented memories quite suddenly shoved into his brain as he merges with his dreamself, so part of the crazy is intentional. I just hope it doesn't detract too much from the piece x_X;;;

[Kassiopeia]

Wow. Haha, I mean... just wow. Maybe this says a lot about how I grew up, but did no one have significantly older siblings? Or, like, siblings in general? Half of how I write Bro comes from the stuff my older brother would have done to me.

It makes me sad that the guy said his feelings re: Bro were influenced by his personal experiences. Because... yeah. >:

@Seraph that was delicious as ever. The formatting was actually really helpful in understanding what was going on, which I approve of, and your prose is fantastic. (Also, greenJohn's last words? SOB)

[horosphere]

Derailing talk of things to give you moar AU!Dave fic.

The formatting in this is WAY too intense for me to bother re-posting it here, so instead, EXTERNAL LINK TO AO3 TIME! NOW PART OF A SERIES.

I haven't even read this yet but the phrase "intense formatting" is already making me nervous.

A brief anecdote that you may find... gratifying, perhaps? I was happily reading through the Flip It Four Ways stories on AO3 yesterday. I thought the music links were a nice thematic touch to set the mood, was amused by the first two songs... then saw what the third song was and kinda laughed a bit. Was kinda thinking something like "Yeah, that fits... especially given the background behind the song. I wonder if the author knows about that, or just liked the song? Either way, I bet that'll make a nice subtle undertone for creepy purple Dave!"

...it wasn't subtle.

[MrTeebert]

Oh hey, I actually wrote something other than fantroll shit.

Graveside Visit

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The man gently pushed the cemetery gate open and walked in. He passed row after row of tombstones as he made his way towards the oldest part of the cemetery. The closer he drew, the more names he recognized. Some he knew as simple acquaintances made during his journeys through the years, others he knew more in-depth, had shared jokes and stories with, taught to and learned from them. Then he began to come across the names he knew best of all. The people he had grown up with. The people he had met as a scared as fuck but poker faced teenager. The people who had raised him. The person who had loved him and he loved back. The person he had loved but had died but a child.

He stopped in front of a skinny black obelisk, overgrown with vines and flowers that obscured most of what was engraved on the stone. A carved pair of scales remained visible at the very top, just barely above the top of the growths. The man set a vase of bright red flowers in front of it and stepped back.

“Been a long time, ‘Rezi. Long for me. Longer for you. Sorry about that. But you know how it is. Time goes fast once you’re over the hill. I can just look back at an event and honestly be surprised when I realize how long it’s been since then.

“If you were here now, you’d probably want to know why I chose now of all times to stop by.”

He stopped. Talking like she was actually there. The hell was he doing?

Ah, fuck it.

“Well, you can probably figure out why. It’s time. Knew it was unavoidable, that somewhere, somehow, one of those damn frogs would show up. Just the way the damn thing works. Can’t avoid any of it. No matter what we did or could have done way back when. Fucking bullshit, I know. But that’s the way it goes. I’m just glad the rest of you guys don’t have to go through it again. Wish the other three didn’t have to. But that’s the way it’s meant to go down. Already checked. Alpha timeline, the four of us have to see this shit through as far as we can. All others, shit gets fucked up. So yeah.”

He paused, took a breath, thought for a moment. Then he continued.

“There’s five of them this time. The living computer took twins to raise. Not surprising, is it? Of course not. Dude was obsessed with twos. Hell, he hasn’t been watching over them for a month and he’s got them dressed monochromatically. One red, one blue. Lets ‘em wear green and purple on Sundays.”

He laughed weakly.

“Purple and green, can you imagine that? Man has some twisted sense of style.

“Robocat’s taken one in too. Had to go into the gogdamned jungle to find her first, though. Spent a week in there before I finally found her, and she tried to eat me before she recognized who I was. Only just got the plaster off my ribs. Once I explained the situation, she agreed right away. No time spent thinking at all, just bam, right then and there, she signed up. ‘Course, probably doesn’t need to spend much time thinking with that robobrain of hers. Fuckin’ Equius was brilliant. But you knew that already. Yeah…you remember when he made her that body. Guy just couldn’t live without her. Didn’t care he was going next, didn’t even try to give himself an out. Gotta admire that dedication…

“Yeah, she’s raising little Robby. Had to pick him up for her from the center. Can’t just have a robot lion waltz into the adoption center, in the middle of the day in the middle of the city. They said he hadn’t spoken a word at all, when I picked him up. Said he probably had some kind of disorder. But you know what the little brat did the second I showed Nepeta to him? Shouted, ‘Kitty!’ and squirmed out of my arms to run to her. No, he’s fine. He can hack it.

“Spiderbitch is in on this too. She’s on her…I don’t know what number body it is. Bitch just picks them up and drops them as it suits her. Dunno why the fuck Aradia thought it would be a good idea to keep her out of whatever kind of afterlife there is, all she’s done is make people’s lives worse, taking over people, letting them go the second they start to get old, then moving on to the next. I wouldn’t have asked her to be in on this if it weren’t for the fact that she has to be. Hell, I didn’t even ask. She found out what I was up to somehow, after I had contacted the others, and just walked up to me and told me she was gonna do this thing.

“Her kid’s not too messed up, though. Jenna, that’s her name. Sure, Spiderbitch pushes her, but she has this cut-off point, a place where she refuses to push any harder. Its weird, but true. Like she knows pushing her too hard or too fast will fuck the kid up. The kid pushes back, too. Rebellious little snot. They work well together, though. Thank god for that.

“Then there’s Tammy. You’d like her. Sharp as a tack, that kid. Fast, too. Doesn’t take any shit, either. Five years old, and the boys on the playground know better than to try any shit like pulling her hair or pushing her off the swings. Only one kid tried that, the little genius wound up in the nurse’s office with an icebag over his crotch. When I went to the principal’s office to pick her up, she was all fired up to give me a lecture, before I even said anything to her, spouting off about self-defense and justified aggression. Solid arguments, too. Had to make her wash her mouth out with soap when we got back home, though. She had a few choice words to describe that kid. And the teachers. And the principal. Had to agree with her opinion though. Definitely had to agree with her.”

He stepped forward and bent down, lifting a single red flower from the vase.

“I’ve got one last stop to make. You understand. You always did.”

He stood up again, then walked down the row. He gave a nod towards a small granite marker bearing a pair of outrageously awesome shades on the front as he passed it. Just a quick nod, no pausing and getting sentimental. That guy wouldn’t have liked that. Probably would’ve given him all kinds of well-deserved shit about it.

He stopped two headstones down, in front of a large, green-tinted slab of rock. This one was overgrown too, but not nearly as much as the obelisk had been. It bore a small inscription at the top, a name and a date. An epiphet followed, but this was hidden from view by the foliage. Didn’t matter, it was full of platitudes and clichéd lines written by a bunch of grief-stricken kids who could barely believe what had happened. Didn’t matter, the important part was visible, and even then he didn’t have to see that, he knew who lay there. He’d buried her himself, so long ago. Not the first he’d buried, but the last for several decades before he and the others had started to get old.

He gingerly set the flower on top of the headstone, then stepped back. He stood there for a moment, quietly thinking, and then slowly turned around and headed back towards the cemetery gate.

A/N

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Basically, this takes place post-Sburb and with the trolls and kids having united to create a new planet with a hybrid species. Set a thousand years or two after the game is finished. Dave's still alive and in his sixties or seventies thanks to time-jumping shenanigans. Vriska was denied entrance to the afterlife by Aradia when she finally died of old age, and so has wandered the planet as a ghost, possessing people and living their lives as it suits her. Nepeta's mind was replicated inside a robotic lioness made by Equius after she died. And Sollux uploaded his mind into a computer and lives in the internet.

Jade died a couple years after the planet was created since living alone on an island probably doesn't do any wonders for one's immune system. Once she was with the other kids who had grown up in populated areas, and the trolls who came from a planet deadlier than even Australia is and thus would probably have a good immune system....yeah. So there's a reason why she died young other than me being a heartless bastard. (I am still a heartless bastard)

[Wigmund]

That was lovely MrTeebert...

[lucidSeraph]

@Kass: OH GOOD I was afraid it might be a little hard to read x_X; Glad to know that it helps to make things more clear.

I haven't even read this yet but the phrase "intense formatting" is already making me nervous.

A brief anecdote that you may find... gratifying, perhaps? I was happily reading through the Flip It Four Ways stories on AO3 yesterday. I thought the music links were a nice thematic touch to set the mood, was amused by the first two songs... then saw what the third song was and kinda laughed a bit. Was kinda thinking something like "Yeah, that fits... especially given the background behind the song. I wonder if the author knows about that, or just liked the song? Either way, I bet that'll make a nice subtle undertone for creepy purple Dave!"

...it wasn't subtle.

Haha, my senior thesis in college was actually about House of Leaves, so I am more than well aware of the background behind Haunted. I am occasionally subtle. That was not one of those times.

don't worry, this one isn't so much NNNNRGHL MY BRAINS as it is terribly sad. Dave's a bit less creepy and more human in this one.

... well there's a little MY BRAINS here too but less so.

*e* SHIT! Just realized that the last of John's sentences in that pesterlog got cut off. It has since been fixed.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@MrTeebert: Aw, nuts to your logic and bacteria. *sniff*

[Sionnan]

Here, have that terrible crack fic I was telling you guys about. You know, the one where I make a really terrible Strider fic.

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Everything seemed like it was in a haze. Everything had slowed down to a brutalizing crawl. Even his steps seemed slow and lethargic.

He went to the desk, barely cresting it's impassable heights. His voice sounded to small as he asked the nurse, "Strider?"

Her eyes, lined and tired, grew sad. She pointed down a hall. "Room 413."

This couldn't be happening. But there he was, walking in slow motion, down an endless hallway. Passing door after door, some rooms empty, some of them housing the crumpled form of sick humans.

He could practically feel the sick heat emanating from 413. He rounded the corner, wanting really to flee, deny that this was really his brother.

Who turned his head to look at Dave, and offered a wan smile.

Time seemed to catch up to itself, and he crossed the room in a blur.

Dave's flattened hands crashed down on the sheet, prompting a wince from his elder sibling, supine under the thin hospital blankets. The young boy's breathing was ragged and strained, and a traitorous tear slipped down his smooth, round cheek as he gasped, "Why. Why didn't you say anything." His hands clenched in tandem with the emphasis in his sentence, punctuating his brother's sad smile with another grimace.

"You know why," he said, and his voice had all the papery dryness of an unloved book, the guttural stops like the beveled edges of pages.

Dave only shook his head, another hot tear arcing down his face, unshed lacrimose fluid running from his nose. "You didn't think I would figure it out?" If the older Strider's voice was a book, the younger Strider was a song that comes up nexpectedly on the radio, one that beckons forth long forgotten memories that bind your heart. "You didn't think I wouldn't go looking for you, when you didn't come home one day?" He shook the legs under his hands, trying to elicit a reaction more than the terrible, quiet resignation in his brother's whole posture.

"I hoped you would have figured it out by then, and just left well enough alone."

"Striders-don't-leave-each other."

"Striders don't cry." The older Strider's hand, wasted of flesh, with the veins and tendons flexing in the merciless light, lifted and gently chucked the boy's chin. A small, sad smile pulled at the side of his thin mouth.

"Yeah well," he said, and the dam broke. "Striders don't die." And the tears that had been leaking into his nasal cavities, for lack of egress through his tear ducts, coursed down his face. Slowly, at first, and then faster, big drops following one after the other, and he buried his face into the astringent, itchy blankets. The thin hand, warm for now, settled between his shoulder blades, and began rubbing, like this was only a bad dream he had to wake up more fully from.

It wasn't long before the sobs that had been shaking his ribs, trapped under his words, began to work their way out. He wept against the knees of--

There was a face next to hers and Vriska froze. Her eyes darted over to assess the interloper, considering what method of disposal would be best before even determining who it was.

The glow of the screen threw the bicolored lenses into a flat shine. Sollux's snub nose wrinkled as he openly snooped in Vriska's business.

"Are you theriouthly writing RPF?"

"Mmmmmhmmmm!"

"Ugh, God don't thound tho happy about it. You do realithe it maketh you, like... a creepy mouthbreather wallhugging thtalker."

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand, Sollux."

[SkaianRedeemer]

...

.......

..........."astringent, itchy blankets." Someone get that girl a medal.

[Rimbaum]

A fanfic about a fanfic...

That was so awesome...

[Wigmund]

@Sionnan: lol, Vriska writing StriderxStrider fics that's hilarious.

[lucidSeraph]

@Sionnan: ... PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT

have you been stalking my roleplay or something

[draconicAlgorithm]

@Sionnan: I've been mostly lurking lately because, although I've been reading, I haven't had much to say aside from "oh gog that was so good". But that... Oh man. xD The description. It was so great.

Oh, Vriska.

[Graven_Image]

Is it bad that I thought it was real at first?

[SkaianRedeemer]

A fanfic about a fanfic...

Oh Rimbaum, how I wish I could link you to Karkat's Diary. Does anyone have a link to those?

Also, there was this one time when I wrote a fic by Nepeta, and if she does say so, it was a masterpiece.

[c_rowles]

Here, have that terrible crack fic I was telling you guys about. You know, the one where I make a really terrible Strider fic.

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Everything seemed like it was in a haze. Everything had slowed down to a brutalizing crawl. Even his steps seemed slow and lethargic.

He went to the desk, barely cresting it's impassable heights. His voice sounded to small as he asked the nurse, "Strider?"

Her eyes, lined and tired, grew sad. She pointed down a hall. "Room 413."

This couldn't be happening. But there he was, walking in slow motion, down an endless hallway. Passing door after door, some rooms empty, some of them housing the crumpled form of sick humans.

He could practically feel the sick heat emanating from 413. He rounded the corner, wanting really to flee, deny that this was really his brother.

Who turned his head to look at Dave, and offered a wan smile.

Time seemed to catch up to itself, and he crossed the room in a blur.

Dave's flattened hands crashed down on the sheet, prompting a wince from his elder sibling, supine under the thin hospital blankets. The young boy's breathing was ragged and strained, and a traitorous tear slipped down his smooth, round cheek as he gasped, "Why. Why didn't you say anything." His hands clenched in tandem with the emphasis in his sentence, punctuating his brother's sad smile with another grimace.

"You know why," he said, and his voice had all the papery dryness of an unloved book, the guttural stops like the beveled edges of pages.

Dave only shook his head, another hot tear arcing down his face, unshed lacrimose fluid running from his nose. "You didn't think I would figure it out?" If the older Strider's voice was a book, the younger Strider was a song that comes up nexpectedly on the radio, one that beckons forth long forgotten memories that bind your heart. "You didn't think I wouldn't go looking for you, when you didn't come home one day?" He shook the legs under his hands, trying to elicit a reaction more than the terrible, quiet resignation in his brother's whole posture.

"I hoped you would have figured it out by then, and just left well enough alone."

"Striders-don't-leave-each other."

"Striders don't cry." The older Strider's hand, wasted of flesh, with the veins and tendons flexing in the merciless light, lifted and gently chucked the boy's chin. A small, sad smile pulled at the side of his thin mouth.

"Yeah well," he said, and the dam broke. "Striders don't die." And the tears that had been leaking into his nasal cavities, for lack of egress through his tear ducts, coursed down his face. Slowly, at first, and then faster, big drops following one after the other, and he buried his face into the astringent, itchy blankets. The thin hand, warm for now, settled between his shoulder blades, and began rubbing, like this was only a bad dream he had to wake up more fully from.

It wasn't long before the sobs that had been shaking his ribs, trapped under his words, began to work their way out. He wept against the knees of--

There was a face next to hers and Vriska froze. Her eyes darted over to assess the interloper, considering what method of disposal would be best before even determining who it was.

The glow of the screen threw the bicolored lenses into a flat shine. Sollux's snub nose wrinkled as he openly snooped in Vriska's business.

"Are you theriouthly writing RPF?"

"Mmmmmhmmmm!"

"Ugh, God don't thound tho happy about it. You do realithe it maketh you, like... a creepy mouthbreather wallhugging thtalker."

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand, Sollux."

I was sipping purple Gatorade from a wine glass as I read this. Somehow, it just felt right.

I was careful to only sip in-between giggles, so as not to splatter my new computer with prodigiously-sweetened sports beverage. What I mean to say is, this is hysterically funny, and we need to see glimpses of Vriska's private writing projects more often.