MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands

[Aerodactylus]

Hi! I'm new here! I spontaneously wrote a short fanfic and felt the need to share it with people, so here I am!

It's about Kanaya as she wakes up as a rainbow drinker! This is just about how I'd imagine it going down. It's a bit sad! Also: I don't know how I feel about the ending, insofar as: there's not really one! But I dunno, I think it kinda works in a weird way?

Anyways, here it is I guess! Enjoy?

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>Wake up.

The last thing you remember is also your first -- the searing pain, the rage and the confusion. After the initial shock, the pain and the rage subside, but the confusion remains. You don't understand at first -- who would? You haven't stopped bleeding -- oh, how you haven't stopped bleeding -- but you've stopped hurting. You certainly don't know why, but stranger things have happened.

>Look around.

You pick up about where you left off, in the same room with a few of the same people. You see two of them leaving, leaving a trail of something. Funny -- you're concerned less with the motives of the people leaving and more with what they've left behind.

>Remember.

It all comes back -- the brilliant beam of hope destroying your race's last chance. You should feel angry, but that's all been spent. You just feel hollow -- a poor choice of words, given the gaping cavity in your torso, but it's appropriate. What can you do? There's nothing left.

>Snap out of it.

Okay, calm down. There's something left -- there's the two you saw leaving, and the rest of them, and there's the kids. And there's you! Against all odds, you're here, alive, breathing, moving, thinking. You've been dealt a new hand! And if the cards aren't exactly a royal flush, well, there's not much left to do but play your cards, isn't there?

>Contact someone.

You find the nearest active computer. You try and contact someone, but you're distracted; someone left a previous conversation open. Looks like you're in a lot more danger than you thought. This isn't good. Perhaps it'd be more efficient if you dealt with this matter face to face

>Leave.

You get up, take a step, and you freeze. All of the pain comes back tenfold. You've never felt anything like this before -- a hunger clawing at your insides with a thousand rusty daggers. The color drains from your vision, and you collapse in agony, screaming.

>Fight it.

But you can't -- you can only endure it, writhing on the ground, crying and shrieking. And as you flail, you notice a streak of color in your vision. Your eyes follow it desperately; it leads back to you. And as your heart races and your body twitches, it clicks.

>Drink.

You get on your hands and knees and begin licking the floor. It tastes awful, bitter and salty. Your heart slows down, but only slightly. You'll need more. You keep going, quickly lapping up every inch of your blood, all the way back to where you woke up. You feel the pain as it leaves your nerves. The color in your vision gradually comes back. You collapse, exhausted and perplexed. This is not how you imagined it would be.

>Leave.

You gather your bearings. Everything's happening so fast, and it's best that you get down to business before another attack sets in, and who knows how long that would take? You get up and get ready to leave, but your eye catches the body.

>Ignore it.

Of course. The idea is offensive for so many reasons, not the least of which is that she was your friend. But on the other hand... she's dead. What does she need with all that blood? And you'd be building up reserves for when the next attack comes, right? You certainly don't want to go through that again any time soon.

>Get closer.

You wander over in a daze -- is this really happening? You can't bear the thought of doing this to your friend's corpse. But you really don't have a choice, and you'll have to do it eventually. You kneel down, staring into her vacant eyes. You feel the tears welling up; this isn't what was supposed to happen. She deserved better than this, not to be killed by her friend, and then desecrated by another.

>Drink.

You close your eyes and plunge your fangs into her neck. It all comes at once, tasting even worse than before. So begins the cycle; you drink as much as you can until you can take no more, you come up for air, and repeat. You hug her and bury your face into her neck, sobbing, apologizing, until the well runs dry. You are overwhelmed; you still can't believe what you just did. How many more times will you have to do it? There's bad hands, and then there's a hand made out of rules cards and jokers. You curl up on the floor, shivering.

This was good! Hope you write more...and welcome to the forum! You'll find we're all mad here.

[SeptimusMagistos]

We're all doomed

Chapter 9: Unleash The Flow

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ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering adiosToreador [AT]

EB: hi, tavros!
AT: hELLO, jOHN,
AT: hOW MAY I HELP YOU,
EB: you sort of ran out of our last conversation before we could finish.
AT: i JUST FELT LIKE MAYBE WE WERE ENTERING A PLACE WHERE I,
AT: wAS ABOUT TO REGRET SAYING THINGS MORE THAN I WOULD NOT SAYING THEM,
EB: heh.
EB: maybe you were!
EB: but you seem a lot calmer now, so maybe we can talk?
AT: mAYBE,
AT: wAIT,
AT: yOUR COMPUTER IS NOT PROJECTING ANYTHING HOLOGRAPHICALLY, iS IT,
EB: no, not really.
EB: do you want it to?
AT: nO,
AT: iT MEANS WE CAN TALK, i THINK,
AT: aLTHOUGH IF WE DO IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU, uHHHH, dIDN'T MAKE FUN OF ME,
AT: eVEN THOUGH I SAID SOMETHING I SHOULDN’T HAVE,
EB: you didn’t say anything bad, tavros!
EB: jade is a cool girl and if you like her, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
AT: yES, bUT,
AT: uHHH,
AT: nEVER MIND,
EB: although i guess this really flies in the face of karkat’s chart.
AT: kARKAT MADE A CHART,
EB: it is a work of art.
EB: but now it’s getting all up in my matchmaking.
EB: bluh!
AT: mATCHMAKING,
AT: iS THIS A THING THAT YOU DO,
EB: oh yeah.
EB: i am the master matchmaker.
EB: it’s me.
AT: rEALLY,
EB: of course i am no match for karkat’s diagram, which clearly designates jade as being with dave.
EB: can’t go against the shipping chart, bro!
EB: sorry.
AT: wHAT IF,
AT: i GOT MY FRIEND TO PAINT ME AND JADE ON HER SHIPPING WALL,
EB: what.
AT: aND THEN SHE COULD MAYBE PAINT TEREZI AND DAVE IN THE REDROM TOO,
AT: i THINK SHE WOULD LIKE THAT BECAUSE,
AT: iT WOULD LEAVE KARKAT’S FLUSHED QUADRANT WIDE OPEN,
AT: fOR HER PREFERRED OTP,
AT: wHICH I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY WHAT IT IS,
EB: hm. you make a persuasive argument.
EB: but dave is my friend.
EB: but i guess you are too.
EB: but then again dave saved my life.
EB: but you did that too!
AT: i DON’T THINK IT IS THE SAME THING,
AT: sINCE YOU WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN DEAD DEAD,
AT: aND IN FACT YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE POWERFUL,
EB: yeah, i know vriska meant well,
EB: but i think you did too!
EB: and i don’t know if i want to ascend that way just yet!
EB: maybe at a time like this, the ability to come back from the dead is more valuable than some extra power.
EB: i am not really ready to decide.
AT: i THINK THAT BEING ABLE TO DECIDE,
AT: wHETHER YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING,
AT: eVEN IF THAT SOMETHING WILL MAKE YOU STRONGER,
AT: iS IMPORTANT,
EB: yeah, exactly!
EB: but back to the matter at hand:
EB: i just cannot decide where i should stand in this!
EB: or which fleet i should sail with
EB: in this ship to ship combat.
AT: sO YOU ARE SAYING,
AT: tHAT IF I PROVED MYSELF TO YOU,
AT: tHEN YOU WOULD MAYBE GET ON MY SHIP,
AT: aND FIRE MY METAPHORICAL CANNONS,
AT: iN THE SPIRIT OF THIS NAVAL METAPHOR,
EB: haha, maybe!
EB: not that i control who jade does or does not like, of course!
AT: nO, oF COURSE NOT,
AT: bUT, i THINK IT WOULD BE AN HONOR,
AT: tO HAVE YOU SAIL WITH ME,
AT: aND I THINK THAT I KNOW HOW WE CAN SETTLE THIS,
EB: okay i'm listening.
AT: tRADITIONALLY, a CONFLINCT BETWEEN FRIENDS,
AT: oR JUST PEOPLE WHO SORT OF DON’T WANT TO REALLY HURT EACH OTHER, i GUESS,
AT: bUT STILL NEED TO RESOLVE AN ISSUE,
AT: wOULD BE SETTLED ON THE FIELD OF A SLAM POETRY BATTLE,
EB: hopy shit.
EB: you want to have a rap-off
EB: against dave?
AT: i THINK THAT IS THE THING THAT I WANT,
AT: iF THAT WOULD ENTICE YOU TO JOIN MY ARMADA,
EB: okay.
EB: i think i can speak for dave when i say you are on.
EB: we are doing this, man.
AT: wE ARE MAKING THIS HAPPEN,
AT: iS THAT RIGHT,
EB: hell yeah!

ectoBiologist [EB] stopped pestering adiosToreador [AT]


CEB RIGHT NOW opened memo on board FRUITY RUMPUS ASSHOLE FACTORY.

CEB: oh, snap!
CEB: it is the rap battle of the century!
CEB: we are about to have the best rap-off in the history of paradox space
CEB: with beats so strict they make mary poppins look permissive.
CEB: in this corner it is dave!
CTG: ‘sup
CEB: and in this other corner is tavros!
CAT: i HAVE BEEN WORKING VERY HARD,
CAT: aND ALSO I HAVE PREPARED MORE NOTES,
CAT: aND ORGANIZED THEM BETTER,
CAT: aND I HOPE IT IS OKAY THAT,
CAT: i ASKED MY FRIENDS FOR ADVICE,
CAT: aBOUT THE SUBJECTS I COULD DO SLAM POETRY ON,
CTG: yeah that’s fine
CEB: oho!
CEB: it sounds like the emotions are running wild!
CEB: (seriously guys, help me out here, this is supposed to be more exciting.)
CAT: sORRY, bUT THIS PART IS NOT IN MY NOTES,
CAT: mAYBE WE COULD JUST SKIP AHEAD A LITTLE,
CEB: fine, if you want.
CEB: we now introduce our fine judges!
CEB: here all the way from the furthest corners of the paradox space!
CEB: it’s rose!
CURRENT TentacleTherapist [CTT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
CTT: It’s a pleasure to be here, John.
CEB: and kanaya!
CURRENT grimAuxiliatrix [CGA] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
CGA: I Would Appreciate A Good Clean Slam Battle
CEB: and last but not least, the mysterious third judge!
CURRENT terminallyCapricious [CTC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.
CCT: what’s up, motherfuckers?
CCT: IT’S TIME TO KICK IT.
CTG: wait what the hell
CTG: why is the psycho judging this
CTT: While Kanaya and I have no vested interest in the outcome, it is nevertheless true that I am primarily your friend, while she is primarily Tavros’s.
CGA: We Needed A Third Judge Who Would Hopefully Be Totally Impartial While Understanding Enough About The Art Of Slam Poetry To Be Qualified To Decide Winners And Losers
CCT: naturally, they thought of me.
CCT: KNEEL BEFORE YOUR JUDGE, MOTHERFUCKER.
CTG: okay whatever
CTG: i can work with that
CTG: turn up whatever sick beats you want
CTG: because i am about to cut loose
CAT: bRING IT ON, bROMOSAPIEN,
Challenge accepted.
CTG: you want it you got it
CTG: consider it brought
CTG: we’ll see who’ll be getting whose goat
I am Doc Scratch and I am here to say:
CTG: cause i'm chillin and wheelin and dealin in here
CTG: surrounded by lava and fucking huge gears
CTG: rotating like my turntables turn after turn
CTG: where having a dozen daves is now the new norm
This is a ridiculous activity.
CTG: not that the norms mean much in the medium
CTG: where we are pretty far from all tedium
CTG: used to spend all day drinking juice
CTG: dropping some sick beats then hitting the hay
CTG: but then we started to play and without delay
CTG: except to complete the relay now there’s no more gray
You must stop this frivolity
CTG: now i rap with an orange bird who is me but with more depression
CTG: and without repression i fight the dersian oppression
CTG: in this doomed session
CTG: born from paradox slime i'm the master of time and can rhyme on a dime
And accept my superiority.
CTG: along with the seer who’s forgotten more than you knew
CTG: and the heir who’s a dork and still cooler than you
CTG: and the witch who’s a stitch and as funky as i’m rich
CTG: here with hammers and swords and needles and guns
CTG: we’re kicking it and lightening moods with in-jokes and puns
The endgame cannot be prevented.
CTG: and then along come a dozen interlopers
CTG: interdimensional interloculators over the internet interface
CTG: monopolizing my beats and my attention
CTG: requiring all my wordplay and concatenation
This timeline will be ended.
CTG: one with shitty drawings and a seeing eye nose
CTG: one erudite with a huge crush on rose
CTG: one angry asshole not worth it to me
CTG: one creepy motherfucker who’s a better rapper than you’ll ever be
You are all about to face your doom.
CTG: but of all the troll race the one most in my face
CTG: is the one who would embrace the home base
CTG: in this baseball metaphor if you know the sport
CTG: and we’re about to have an after action report
This universe will become your tomb.
CTG: about hankering for bone and stick hard as stone
CTG: behind every groan there is a moan and we’re taking a loan
CTG: from the bank to buy a house and two point five kids
CTG: to forget this session exists and move on to the bliss
CTG: unless of course i miss
CTG: my guess and you’re not here for throbbing trombone
I see all, I know all, I do what I must.
CTG: but i think that falls outside the realm of possibility
CTG: so maybe we’ll abandon this hostility
CTG: and open up a spigot on the sea of tranquility
CTG: and get rid of all banalities and trivialities
CTG: as we prepare to share ourselves in commonality
Your puny lives are little more than dust.
CTG: that was the beat that you said to bring on
CTG: and now grasshopper it is your turn
There is no use in struggling.
CAT: dAVE, wHY WOULD YOU EVEN DO THIS,
CAT: lOOK AT ALL THE LIES YOU’VE SPREAD,
CAT: dON’T YOU KNOW IT’S A CRIME,
CAT: tO BE WASTING MY TIME,
CAT: wITH, iNADEQUATE RHYME,
CAT: aND IN ALTERNIA WE HAVE NO TOLERANCE,
CAT: yOU’LL HANG BY YOUR NECK TILL YOU’RE DEAD,
Your fates are already sealed.
CAT: i HAD A LOOK AT SOME DICTIONARIES,
CAT: aND I THINK I UNDERSTAND YOUR IMPLICATIONS NOW,
CAT: aND, dAVE, i HAVE TO TELL YOU,
CAT: iT WILL TAKE MUCH MORE TO GET ME DOWN,
CAT: bECAUSE,
CAT: iN ALTERNIA WE HAVE NO WORD FOR HOMOSEXUAL,
CAT: wE REALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT STUFF LIKE THAT,
CAT: sEE, iNSULTS HAVE TO BE CONTEXTUAL,
CAT: aND, nOT PULLED OUT OF A HAT,
The best course would be to yield.
CAT: cLEARLY, yOU NEED TO BE LESS MYOPIC,
CAT: aND MAYBE TAKE A WALK ON ALTERNIAN SIDE,
CAT: aND IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE DOING THAT, dAVE,
CAT: tHEN LET THIS MOTHERFUCKING TROLL BE YOUR GUIDE,
Or else you’ll fall and burn
CAT: sO LET ME PAINT YOU A PICTURE,
CAT: iN PAINTS MADE FROM CULLED WIGGLER BLOOD,
CAT: bECAUSE,
CAT: tHAT IS THE SORT OF THING WE DO IN ALTERNIA,
CAT: aND, i WON’T SHY AWAY FROM THIS CRUD,
Beneath the powers that I wield.
CAT: yOU WON’T LAST TWO MINUTES HERE,
CAT: oNCE THE TROLLS ARE OUT TO PLAY,
CAT: yOU CAN’T HANDLE ANY OF WHAT,
CAT: wE DO EVERY SINGLE DAY,
My master is already here.
CAT: hERE THERE ARE SOME WICKED WAYS TO DIE,
CAT: lIKE A CLOWN THAT’S JUST RUN OUT OF PIE,
CAT: oR HAVE A CHAINSAW TAKEN TO YOUR LEGS,
CAT: dON’T TELL ME THAT DIDN’T MAKE YOU CRINGE FOR A SEC,
Everything is arranged.
CAT: hERE IN ALTERNIA THE FAUNA IS SAVAGE,
CAT: mUSCLEBEAST BY NIGHT, aND UNDEAD BY DAY,
CAT: i CAN MAYBE COMMUNE,
CAT: bUT YOU, dAVE, aRE DOOMED,
CAT: aND YOUR SKIN FROM YOUR BONES THEY WILL FLAY,
Your scrabbling dance of life is over.
CAT: yOU CAN TRY TO PLAY A GAME AROUND HERE,
CAT: aND HAVE SOMETHING BURST FROM YOUR CHEST,
CAT: eAT YOUR EYES FROM YOUR FACE,
CAT: tHEN SETTLE DOWN TO SLEEP,
CAT: bECAUSE IT HAS YOUR LUNGS TO DIGEST,
It’s time to yield your place
CAT: yOU MIGHT GET CULLED BY SOMEONE,
CAT: fOR BEING MUCH TOO WEAK,
CAT: oR MAYBE YOU’LL GO FISHING,
CAT: aND CATCH GL’BGOLYB,
While you have time enough to save face.
CAT: yOUR FISHING NETS WILL GRAB,
CAT: a TENTACLE OR TRILLION,
CAT: aND, mAYBE AFTERWARDS,
CAT: hE’LL HAVE SOME HUMAN BOULLION,
Let’s just get back to the main plot.
CAT: aND IF YOU SURVIVE SUCH CASUAL DANGERS,
CAT: yOU’LL STILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR FRIENDS,
CAT: wHO’LL TRAP YOU IN A LOOP OF REVENGE,
CAT: aND YOU’LL FIGHT THEM FOREVER,
CAT: oVER, aND OVER, aND OVER AGAIN,
We must cut off this unnecessary line.
CAT: yOU MIGHT BE THROWN OFF A CLIFF,
CAT: oR BE LEFT CRIPPLED, oR BLIND,
CAT: yOU MIGHT LOSE AN ARM AND AN EYE,
CAT: oR BE DRIVEN OUT OF YOUR MIND,
I suppose that responsibility will be mine.
CAT: yOU’LL BE HAUNTED BY GHOSTS OF YOUR PAST,
CAT: yOU’LL BE FORCED TO KILL YOUR BEST FRIEND,
CAT: yOU’LL BE CAUGHT WITHIN A COSMIC BLAST,
CAT: yOU’LL NEVER KNOW PEACE,
CAT: tHERE ISN’T AN END,
Which, I suppose, is just fine.
CAT: sO, tHAT IS THE SORT OF THING WE DO AROUND HERE,
CAT: wHICH IS WHY YOUR RHYME IS SO WEAK, sO WE’RE CLEAR,
CAT: cOME BACK AFTER YOU’VE GOT SOME EXPERIENCE, sON,
CAT: bECAUSE FOR THE MOMENT,
CAT: wE ARE VERY MUCH DONE,
You simply can’t beat my rhyme.
PCT: dave, you got served.
PTC: TAVROS, I’LL KILL YOU LAST.
CGA: The Sentiments Expressed By Tavros Spoke To Me
CGA: He Is Awarded My Judgment
CTT: Sorry, Dave, but the decision is unanimous.
CTT: Tavros is the winner of this Slam Poetry Battle.
CAT: a WINNER,
CAT: iS ME,
I was cheated.

CAT closed memo.

A/N:

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Tavros was wearing an admiral's hat over his horns for the whole duration of the rap-off.

[SkaianRedeemer]

Oh man. Updates like these make me resent taking the time out to make a chapter work. I couldn't help it! I had just re-read some of the bad ones and was getting ticked at myself. No, no, I wasn't decanonized again. No, this one covers the exact same subject matter, rending large parts of my chapter moot. Oh well. Maybe this will make me hork it out finally instead.

@Septimus: Well that author's note was just implied! I mean, I threw in a few of those ruffly shoulder things for good measure but I think I got the mental picture! Doc Scratch was decked in gold chains, of course. I'till not sure how this really solves Tavros' problem, but at this point I'm too stunned by the majesty to care.

[Graven_Image]

CAT: sO, tHAT IS THE SORT OF THING WE DO AROUND HERE,
CAT: wHICH IS WHY YOUR RHYME IS SO WEAK, sO WE’RE CLEAR,
CAT: cOME BACK AFTER YOU’VE GOT SOME EXPERIENCE, sON,
CAT: bECAUSE FOR THE MOMENT,
CAT: wE ARE VERY MUCH DONE,

That was my favorite part.

Oh, and Doc Scratch was in there? I didn't see that.

[SeptimusMagistos]

CAT: sO, tHAT IS THE SORT OF THING WE DO AROUND HERE,
CAT: wHICH IS WHY YOUR RHYME IS SO WEAK, sO WE’RE CLEAR,
CAT: cOME BACK AFTER YOU’VE GOT SOME EXPERIENCE, sON,
CAT: bECAUSE FOR THE MOMENT,
CAT: wE ARE VERY MUCH DONE,

That was my favorite part.

Oh, and Doc Scratch was in there? I didn't see that.

Originally it was just white space to separate couplets. But the good Doc sort of forced his way into the chapter, almost against my will. This fandom...it does strange things to my head.

[Sionnan]

@Septimus: okay, so. I really like the idea behind this, and you've got a lot of great, smart references in there. It's cute and silly, and you're a really decent rhymer. But here's where it gets tricky- rap isn't just about the rhyme. It's about the beat and cadence, and that's kind of where your rapping fell apart. I'm not, like, a master rapper or anything, but there's at least one rule you have to abide by when doing a rap: there's always at least four emphasized beats per line. There can be more, but there has to be at least per line that holds consistent throughout your rap.

Here's an example: There's a WAR goin' on between FLESH and meCHAnics | A BLOody one, between maCHInes and orGAnics. Both lines are just about equal in number of syllables, and the emphasized beats pretty much match up with each other. It's fine if you play with the form, but at least make sure the emphasized beats are aligned so that each line doesn't become a whole new rapping rhythm.

Like I said, I'm really not an expert on rap, but this is what I've figured out from doing it myself and a little online research.

[SeptimusMagistos]

@Septimus: okay, so. I really like the idea behind this, and you've got a lot of great, smart references in there. It's cute and silly, and you're a really decent rhymer. But here's where it gets tricky- rap isn't just about the rhyme. It's about the beat and cadence, and that's kind of where your rapping fell apart. I'm not, like, a master rapper or anything, but there's at least one rule you have to abide by when doing a rap: there's always at least four emphasized beats per line. There can be more, but there has to be at least per line that holds consistent throughout your rap.

Here's an example: There's a WAR goin' on between FLESH and meCHAnics | A BLOody one, between maCHInes and orGAnics. Both lines are just about equal in number of syllables, and the emphasized beats pretty much match up with each other. It's fine if you play with the form, but at least make sure the emphasized beats are aligned so that each line doesn't become a whole new rapping rhythm.

Like I said, I'm really not an expert on rap, but this is what I've figured out from doing it myself and a little online research.

I appreciate the critique. Unfortunately, at this time I can't do much about it. I just can't do meter. Really, if I were smart I probably wouldn't be doing poetry at all, but I felt I had enough good ideas for content to make up for my complete inability to use the form properly.

[Sionnan]

@Septimus: It's totally cool! It's not like it's a big deal, just putting it out there in case this is something you'd want to try again. Your work was good enough so that the instability of the rap didn't matter. Your stuff is still good.

[-Benedict]

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAA
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
HOLY. FUCK.

Septimuuuuus!!!!! You just won FOREVER! AFDGHJKSDFHGLEKJH

The only downside to this is that suddenly my fic just became only the second best fic in which Tavros and Dave and Gamzee all join a memo in which they have a rap battle. even though its shitty because i have no idea how do i shot rap so the beats are probably even worse i guess it is just the worst rapoff in the history of paradox space ffffffffffffffffffff

[Jim Groovester]

CEB: with beats so strict they make mary poppins look permissive.

You should give some advance warning before you write lines this hilarious.

Great job, SeptimusMagistos.

[Sionnan]

Another Vriska-Tavros fic, inspired by the recent updates.

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Of course she'd seen him sleep before. After all, their Sgrub debacle lasted for nearly a month; it was to be expected that at some point during those days, long or short as they may have seemed, that one of them would have had to sleep.

Of course, she insisted that he never need watch her back. With a flip of her hair and a roll of her eyes, she would dismiss whatever quibbling concern he had, informing him that no minion or underling alive could get the drop on Marquise Spineret. It was just ridiculous to imply otherwise, and her voice would raise in volume to drown out his feeble but but buts, and she would thump to the ground, scooching around to find somewhere comfortable as she commanded him to go do something other than watch her back. She didn't need a cripple's help. Go cuddle with animals or something, because god knows that's the most you could be expected to do with them. And usually she would wake up with Tavros covered in an array of creatures, basically the only time he was allowed to make friends with them being when she was unconscious. Once she woke up to him softly telling a story to an imp, which was seated in his lap gazing up at him with large button eyes, transfixed by his words.

It was really quite disturbing. She didn't want to admit how cute it was, because alright yes it was, but dammit Tavros was just doing it wrong. So very very wrong.

But she did have to watch over him when he slept. She would waspishly declare what a failkid he was, sometimes underscoring her point with a few pointed slaps to the back of his head, or a twist of his ear, or other assorted body part. She never really got used to watching him delicately divest himself of his wheelchair; it was seriously creepy and a little more pathetic than she would have liked to admit. Actually, Tavros was the only troll she'd ever seen crippled. As a rule, trols who were maimed or injured beyond use or practicle repair were culled; it was simple as that. That he should have hobbled along for sweeps after his, ahem, accident was really kind of galling.

It sort of made her want to repeatedly plant her head against a wall, or something.

He was so helpless it was enraging.

But killing him then would have only made her lose her company, as well as an adventure partner. It was kind of, like, an unspoken rule that you needed a second half in order to get the most out of an adevnture. So Tavros stayed, and hauled himself up in his chair using only his arms, and Vriska would watch the corded muscles in his too-skinny arms as he would hold himself there, shifting himself around. Usually, he managed to get himself out of the chair alone, using the aid of whatever steady and inanimate object he could grasp and lower himself with. He would arrange his legs once he would carefully fall to the floor, self conscious under her narrow scrutiny.

And she always watched him. She made it a point to.

(For a lot of reasons. Partly, she wanted him to know under no uncertain terms how pathetic she found him. Partly, and she would never admit this to anyone, she would watch him because she never wanted to forget the consequences of a mistake. Whether the mistake was carelessness because he was still alive, or that she had effected this disability, she never tried to examine too closely.)

Sometimes, she had to help him get out of his chair.

She hated doing that. Her heart would hammer and her skin would crawl, and she was glad Tavros was just so damn oblivious, because they would get close enough that he could have seen the vein in her throat pulsing way too quickly. But he never said or asked anything during the ordeal, which was just as well. She hated touching him; he didn't feel healthy or young, and it made her hate him more. He didn't have much of any flush to his skin, and it was always so papery and dry. Not like, dry skin dry, like sick dry. And he didn't have any squish to him; even Equius had a little squish, even though he peaked way to early and looked sweeps older than he really was. Tavros was all tendon and bone, and maybe a little fat on his belly because he couldn't move much down there. Where he wasn't bony, the muscles were just... hanging. If he had muscles there at all.

The thing she hated the most was touching his legs. She tried not to, if she could help it. But him being in a chair made it ridiculously hard to do crap like scale boulders and such, so sometimes, touching his legs was the inevitable thing to do. They were... shriveled, was the best word for it. It's like his body was all busy growing up, but his legs forgot to those sweeps ago. They stayed the skinny legs of a wriggler at 4 or 5. What was worse was that the muscles in there barely seemed to stretch over the bones.

Out of all of the repulsive things she had done, handling Tavros's legs was probably near the top of the list. Of course, she always tamped down the distant horror she may have been feeling that she had caused this, and he had lived through it. If that didn't make him strong, she didn't know what would. But it wasn't fair to give him credit like that; all he had to do was passively keep on living, right?

Never mind that he probably had to fight, fight, fight all those nasty infections that would undoubtedly sprung up for a kid who had no access to medical care, given his disgusting position on the hemospectrum, and fight the pain, and fight to move, and fight to exist at all, it wasn't the same. Right? It was a frantic little mantra she would repeat somewhere in the back of her head, right right right?, Tavros is really just as pathetic and weak as you always thought.

Partly because it would have made -her- weak if he had somehow recovered from his botched murder. She couldn't do the job right, and didn't have the heart to check if he was good and dead, crumpled at the bottom of the cliff, and it just proved what a softy she was for not doing it.

Partly because she didn't want all of her carefully constructed mental barriers and routes to seem less stable than they always seemed. There were certain inalienable truths she had come to live by; she was a predator, and everyone else was pray. She was strong; they were weak. She hated Tavros Nitram. And she liked having these compass points to fix on when everything else whirled out of control.

She could feel his heart beneath his ribs as she held on to him to steady him, rolling her eyes and lambasting him all the while, thumping away under the twig-like rows of bone, and how, somehow, there was a horrible little pang that she would try to quell by yelling louder, a pang that was reminding her how alive he really was.

And he would just passively accept her abuse, and she would never, ever allow herself to consider for longer than a fraction of a second that maybe, just maybe, Tavros was stronger than she let herself think, given all that he could endure.

[appositeNautilus]

Hey, first ever Homestuck fanfic here. Was prompted to write this by certain unpleasant recent events in-comic. KarkatxNepeta furever...
(Let me know if this is too long to be posted all at once. It's under 2500 words if that makes any difference.)

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arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

AC: :33 < *ac prowls mournfully into equius's den and flomps down on a purrlow with a sigh*
CT: D --> What
CT: D --> What is the problem Nepeta
AC: :33 < *ac wrinkles her nose and digs her kittyclaws into the vicious troll-eating purrlow*
CT: D --> Stop this f001ishness
CT: D --> I forbid you from enacting any sort of violence upon my purrlows
CT: D --> I mean pillows
CT: D --> In a role playing or any other conte%t
AC: :33 < *ac yowls at the unfurness of everything and rolls onto her back to die alone and miserable*
CT: D --> Nepeta it w001d behoof you to be less me100dramatic
CT: D --> You know full well as your moirail my mane responsibility is to see to your immediate welfare
CT: D --> If there is some dilemma which requires a STRONG response I will be happy
CT: D --> Neigh
CT: D --> Overjoyed to assist you
AC: :33 < oh equius
AC: :33 < i dont think this is something you can help meow with
CT: D --> Is it
CT: D --> That angry little nub-horned wiggler again
AC: :33 < *ac gasps at equius's mewul words!!!*
AC: :33 < hes not a wiggler
AC: :33 < he will be six sweeps old before the next perigee
AC: :33 < and for your inpurrmation his horns are aclawrable
CT: D --> We have spoken previously about this
CT: D --> I canter llow you to enter into any concupiscent dealings with one who withholds vital information about his position on the haemospectrum
CT: D --> It is e%creable behaviour of the most suspicious and base variety
AC: :33 < *ac pouts at the m33nness of her moirail*
AC: :33 < i know what you said
AC: :33 < it would just be mice if he once took pawse to roleplay a little
AC: :33 < what could he pawssibly be doing that would be more fun than playing games with me?
CT: D --> Do you mean to say
CT: D --> That you have asked him to col100d in one of your games and he has refused
CT: D --> That presumably gutter-b100ded filth
CT: D --> Ignoring the desires of his social better
CT: D --> How udderly debauched
CT: D --> But not furlong
AC: :33 < *ac rubs herself against her friends STRONGLEG as she purrnders what he is getting at???*
CT: D --> I am bridled by his refusal
CT: D --> Al100w me to intervene on your behalf, Nepeta
CT: D --> I would be la% in my duties as your moirail were I not to make an e%ample of him
CT: D --> Anyone from his end of the haemospectrum should be foaling over themselves to respond to your advances
CT: D --> Ill-judged though they may be
AC: :33 < ok but dont be too furceful
AC: :33 < i dont want him to feel like he has to spend time with me just bepawse you say so
CT: D --> Do not worry
CT: D --> I can fetlock my STRONGRAGE sufficiently to perform this task to your requirements
CT: D --> If this is indeed what you wish
AC: :33 < yes purrlease!!!
CT: D --> Very well
CT: D --> Mare with me while I speak to him
AC: :33 < *ac tacklehugs her moirail for being the most purrfect moirail in all of hisstory!!!*
CT: D --> Your flattery is unnecessary
CT: D --> But appreciated
AC: :33 < >:33

centaursTesticle [CT] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]
CT: D --> Lowb100d
CG: OH LOOK, IT'S A BIG BLUE FUCKSTICK COME TO RUIN THE DAY.
CG: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT.
CG: ALSO LEAVE THE CONTENTS OF MY VASCULAR SYSTEM OUT OF THIS.
CG: YOU DON'T KNOW I'M LOWER THAN YOU, ASSHOLE.
CT: D --> If you were anything other than gutter-b100ded scum you would be proud to display your position in the hierarchy
CT: D --> Also if you were of a more resp%table line than myself
CT: D --> 100dicrous as the suggestion is
CT: D --> You would not be so susceptible to the abilities of Ms. Serket, as she has demonstrated previously to me
CT: D --> Insteed, your feeble mind speaks volumes of your inferiority
CG: OK, I OFFICIALLY GOT BORED OF YOUR PRETENTIOUS BULLSHIT AS OF TWO MINUTES AGO. GET TO THE POINT OR GET THE FUCK OFF MY BACK.
CT: D --> Ahem
CT: D --> Very well
CT: D --> I am debasing myself by the very act of conversing with you in order to convey a message of importance
CT: D --> Concerning AC
CG: OH JEGUS
CG: NOT THIS AGAIN.
CG: I'VE HAD NEPETA RIDING MY ASS ABOUT THIS THE PAST FEW DAYS AND NOW I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH HER MORONIC MOIRAIL AS WELL. FUCKIN A.
CT: D --> Um
CT: D --> This riding you al100de to
CG: FIGURE OF SPEECH, ASSHOLE.
CG: LOOK, THERE'S ONLY SO MANY TIMES I CAN TIPTOE ROUND THAT HALFWITTED CAT-BINT BEFORE I JUST COMPLETELY FLY OFF THE HANDLE.
CG: LIKE, OFF THE HANDLE INTO A FURPILE OF YOWLING FURRY FUCKHEADS AND ALL I HAVE TO CLING TO IS A SICKLE AND THE KNOWLEDGE THAT EVERY ONE I KILL BEFORE I CHOKE TO DEATH ON A FURBALL IS ONE LESS I HAVE TO BEAR YIFFING MY LEG DOWN TO A NUB.
CT: D --> I will be the first to %cept that she is not the most stable troll on the planet
CT: D --> But she is hardly a 100natic
CT: D --> She happens to be an e%cellent partner
CT: D --> Every night I wake and flank gog that I have such a devoted moirail
CT: D --> Anyone, especially someone saddled with your meagre standing, should be honoured by her interest in them
CG: LOOK BUDDY
CG: I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING AGAINST OR FOR HER PER SE.
CG: NO MORE THAN I DO AGAINST OR FOR ANY OF YOU OTHER CHUCKLEHEADS AND YOUR INANITIES, ANYWAY.
CG: BUT AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED BLOOD DOESN'T COME INTO IT.
CG: NOT INTERESTED, THANK YOU, GOODBYE.
CT: D --> Wait
CT: D --> I order you to wait
CT: D --> You are not a troll lacking in pity, Karkat
CT: D --> You have helped enough of our people in matters of romance that word has reached my ears
CG: YOUR WHAT?
CT: D --> My auricular spongeholes then
CT: D --> Your lack of familiarity with the formal appel100tions for our anatomy merely confirms my suspicions
CG: OK, BLOCKING YOU IN T MINUS 5...
CT: D --> Whatever you may claim to the canterary you care about our cohorts
CT: D --> 100k at her situation for a moment
CT: D --> She has her work cut out tending to her e%ceptionally STRONG moirail most days
CT: D --> And though she longs for someone she can pity as an equal
CT: D --> Living in a cave as she does she has little opportunity to meet other like-minded trolls
CT: D --> Do you have any idea what it feels like to be so is001ated
CT: D --> To talk to the same people every day and feel so a100ne
CG: WHY SHOULD YOU CARE ANYWAY?
CG: YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KEEPS HER FROM ASSOCIATING WITH TAVROS AND ARADIA AND HER OTHER 'LOWBLOOD' FRIENDS. DON'T PUT YOUR WEIRDASS CONTROL ISSUES ON ME.
CT: D --> All I am rearly trying to do is protect her
CT: D --> I don't let her trot around after Ms. Serket either
CT: D --> Who would otherwise be a very auspicious match for her in any quadrant
CG: OH RIGHT. BLUE BLOOD. BECAUSE THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS TO YOU.
CT: D --> No
CT: D --> If that were the case I would hoof no moirail
CT: D --> 100k, I don't pretend to understand the way she feels
CT: D --> But she is my moirail and I will support her with all my STRENGTH
CT: D --> And at this moment she is in need of a show of pity from someone other than myself
CT: D --> Even if that person is a foul-mouthed little b100d-envy-ridden carbuncle
CT: D --> I can at least know she will be safe with you
CG: HEY FUCKFACE, GO SUCK A TEAT.
CG: OR WHATEVER DISGUSTING THING IT IS YOU'RE INTO THESE DAYS. FRANKLY I DON'T GIVE AN IOTA OF A FUCK.
CG: IF YOU CARE SO MUCH THEN MAKE HER A ROBOT TO FLUSH-CRUSH OVER.
CG: I'M NOT GOING TO LEAP TO ATTENTION JUST BECAUSE SOME NAVY-TINTED DOUCHENOZZLE IS UP IN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.
CG: NO AMOUNT OF HALF-BAKED FRIENDSHIP SPEECHES ARE GOING TO CHANGE THAT.
CT: D --> Nepeta deserves
CT: D --> Neigh, is owed more than an artificial companion can possibly ever offer
CT: D --> One last question, lowb100d
CT: D --> Since you are doing such an e%cellent job of managing your quadrants yourself
CT: D --> What e%actly is it you are 100king for that you have yet to find
CT: D --> Someone so wise in the ways of romance must be fighting off a sl00 of suitors until he finds someone e%actly to his taste
CT: D --> I assume that is the e%planation for your current bachelor status
CT: D --> Unless there is another reason why you have failed to 100re a satisfactory partner in any quadrant whatsoever
CG: ...
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT, SUDDENLY I DO HAVE A LOT MORE PITY FOR AC.
CG: BECAUSE SHE HAS TO SPEND HER LIFE RUNNING AROUND CLEANING UP AFTER A REVOLTING, SWEATY, SELFISH, BIGOTED BULGE WART LIKE YOU.
CG: FUCK NEPETA, FUCK YOUR HIGH AND MIGHTY MUSCLEBEASTSHIT, FUCK THE QUADRANTS, AND MOST OF ALL AND MOST SINCERELY, FUCK YOU.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] blocked centaursTesticle [CT]

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]
CT: D --> Fiddlesticks
AC: :33 > *ac l33ps onto ct as he returns from the hunt*
AC: :33 > *'how did it go?!' she asks*
CT: D --> It could have gone better
CT: D --> I am tr001y sorry, Nepeta
CT: D --> I am afraid I bridled him until he blocked me
AC: :33 > oh
AC: :33 > *she says, her tail drooping*
AC: :33 > well, thank you fur trying your best, equius!!! :33
CT: D --> What is important is that you understand
CT: D --> It is not your fault he is blinkered to your charms
CT: D --> He just does not pity you in that way
CT: D --> Such is the f001ishness of whichever lowly caste he cleaves to
AC: :33 > did he say that?
CT: D --> I believe that was the gist of the conversation
AC: :33 > oh
CT: D --> He refused to obey my orders concerning the matter
CT: D --> I am sorry to have failed in this duty
CT: D --> You may chastise me in any manner you feel appropriate
AC: :33 > no, thats ok
AC: :33 > i shouldnt have got my hopes up
CT: D --> Nepeta, please
CT: D --> I order you not to 100se yourself in despondency
CT: D --> It was my fault for al100wing you to believe I might be able to inf100ence him
AC: :33 > its fine equius
AC: :33 > you tried
AC: :33 > i think i will just curl up with pounce and go to sl33p for a while
CT: D --> I am sorry
AC: :33 > ill talk to you tomorrow moirail :33
arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]
CG: HEY.
CG: HEY NEPETA.
CG: ARE YOU THERE?
CG: *HE ASKS, FEELING LIKE KIND OF A MORON*
AC: :33 > karkat?
CG: OH YOU ARE THERE.
CG: LISTEN
CG: UH
CG: I'VE BEEN THINKING. MAYBE I DIDN'T GIVE THIS ROLEPLAYING SCHTICK A FAIR SHAKE.
CG: AND I WAS JUST WRITING IT OFF OUT OF HAND WITHOUT GIVING IT A PROPER CHANCE.
CG: SO, I'M SORRY, I GUESS. OK?
CG: AND, IF YOU STILL WANTED TO, I WAS WONDERING IF MAYBE YOU COULD SHOW ME THE ROPES SOMETIME.
CG: NOT THAT THERE SHOULD BE ROPES OR ANYTHING. UH
CG: JEGUS, COULD THIS GET ANY MORE EMBARRASSING?
AC: :33 > really??? you m33n it?
CG: SO HELP ME. YES.
AC: :33 > *ac bounds up to karkat and gives him the biggest tacklepounce of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall time!!!*
AC: :33 > lets start right now!!!
CG: REALLY? RIGHT NOW?
AC: :33 > absomewtely!!!
AC: :33 > we could be deadly killer wildcats stalking our prey through the undergrowth together
AC: :33 > or you could be a rampurrnt muscleb33st that i have to slay and bring back to my cubs
AC: :33 > or!!! :33
AC: :33 > you could be one of my aclawrable baby kitties that im playing with and t33ching how to pounce!!!
AC: :33 > youll be the sw33test little karkitty EVER!!!
AC: :33 > oh my GOG this is going to be soooooooooo great!!! :33
CG: OH BOY.

[Wigmund]

Nautilus, that fic was way too cute. Too cute.

Excellent first fic by the way. You're one of us now.

[Red Pen]

Nautilis, I really like that! You've got me grinning at Equius and Nepeta exchanging puns, that was cute. :33

[Teleharmonic]

Sionnan:

...I think I have something in my eye.

[Graven_Image]

Nautilus, that is a First Pwnst if I ever saw one. Deliciously cute, and pun-riddled like a peice of clownish cheese.

[draconicAlgorithm]

@Septimus: Finally caught up with this! I have to say, the whole thing is really great. In spite of the somewhat dark subject matter (they're all doooooooomed!), you make it really humorous. :3 And that rap battle was great.

@Sionnan: ;-; Tavros's death just keeps getting sadder, I swear. It's beautiful, though.

[egregiousBass]

Nautilis... Those horse puns were ace.

You capture Equius and Karkat so well! I commend your vocab001ary.

[SeptimusMagistos]

I am always excited for more Nepeta and Equius. Good job.

[Path]

Oh gog, so cute. And so ridiculous. The puns. THE PUNS. And I love your Karkat. I love him. He is mine, get off. *bats everyone else away*

[Degulus]

I've had this idea in the back of my mind for a long time, and today I got into a weird mood and actually wrote it down.

A little story about Spades Slick. But I can't for the life of me think of a good title that wouldn't give away where I'm going with it.

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Nothing left for you down here. Nothing left up there. The door's locked. The bitch took your arm and locked you in here.

It wasn't so bad. Naw, scratch that, it was horrible. Had to relive it all, watch yourself fight and fail all over again. But it put things in perspective, even if only literally.

In the end, you saw it. It was only a flash to them, but you knew clear as day what it was... who it was. Lucky bastard. He turned your stomach. Maybe that's how you would have been if you won back then. But you think you'd be better for it now. You still wish it was you, much as you hate how pointless his wrath is.

The show's over, nothing left but eternal boredom... the thought doesn't strike you as a good option. Might as well go upstairs and try to beat the door down till you pass out from blood loss. That thought sounds stupider, but less boring so you follow through on it.

The door offers no resistance, falls right off the hinges. The whole mansion is rubble after all. Why did you expect this thing to be intact after whatever happened here? You still wonder about that. This timeline is utter shit. You've still got Die's doll... You could change things, move to a new line. But all the pins are of the Felt, you ain't fond of the idea of having to kill them all again. You built this city, and they are finally out of it. Hollow victory still sounds better than defeat... you leave the pins for now.

Speaking of hollow victory, it's about time you wallowed in yours. Time to head home, get some drinks and try to forget that everyone you give a rat's ass about is dead. Not sure which direction is which though. All you see is ruins of the mansion in every direction, the only land mark above knee high is the safe you just came out of. At least, that's what you thought when you went in earlier. Now you can see another remnant. A staircase... A door covered in pool balls rapidly flashing as they change colors.

So he was still here? The big boss himself. You're probably gonna bleed to death anyway, why not meet the big man before you bite it? You walk toward the door, but the world turns inside out for a second. There's a flash... sparks in the air, the universe unfolding all around you. And then, it all just shrinks and fades into a silhouette. And there he is blank round expressionless head, a white suit... you had forgotten about him, but you're not surprised he's still alive. You're not sure he can die.

He walks forward slowly. “You've come spectacularly far, Mr. Slick, but Lord English is not seeing visitors.”

You don't need this crap. “Out of my way, Cueball, I ain't in the mood.”

The bastard seemed so smug... no face and yet you could feel him grin. “I'm not a man of violence, Mr. Slick, but we both know that you won't be backing down.” He never broke his stride... that slow march. Something caught his foot in the rubble... a cue stick lept off the ground, flipping end over end. He caught it with one hand, not breaking that damn slow walk of his.

You know that it's Droog's ultraviolence cuestick... you can almost make out his carapaced hand sticking out of the debris where the stick had been laying. You're pissed. You don't really give a shit that this guy is basically immortal and untouchable. He'll pay for disrespecting the Midnight Crew. You draw your Trusty Knife. You haven't used it since the last time you saw the kid. His “mutant” blood is probably the only blood the thing has ever drawn. You still kinda wish the queen could have met the end of the blade.

You charge the bastard in white. He dodges, of course. Time and space turn inside out. You don't give up, you can't give up. Again and again you slash at his barely formed silhouette hoping to draw whatever color blood THIS mutant has. You're barely sure if the world is stopping it's roller coaster ride of chaos long enough for physics to vomit. But somewhere in it all, you can feel the cuestick pounding you. You don't care. You'll probably die like this, but you'll keep stabbing blindly till your last breath.

Then you hear it. A faint rip of cloth. You got him, by some miracle you got him. The world stops puking up stars and you can see him standing there stunned, checking himself for wounds.

Where did you get him? You gotta know. Is it fatal? Are you actually going to kill this immortal bastard.

No, he's calming down. There's no blood on your knife. His sleeve is hanging loose. You barely clipped him. Cut the cuff off his jacket... the scrap of cloth is at your feet. You're pretty sure some of your ribs are cracked now. You feel like utter shit. That's probably gonna be the best attack you get in at this rate. Just cutting off his stupid cueball shaped cuff links... you had to hand it to the guy for his dedication to his retarded theme. Though admittedly they looked more like pins with cueballs on the end...

You wish you had your other arm. It would have been a lot easier, and more dramatic to do it two handed. But you made due with what you had. You dropped Die's doll to the ground laughing madly... You had no idea if it would work, but you're pretty sure Scratch knew when he froze up like he did. Part of you thought it was the laugh, and that he'd be laughing himself when nothing happened. But you drowned out that thought, and stabbed the cufflinks into the doll. You tried to make a one liner, but coughed up blood instead... damn ribs. You settled for more laughing. Even if it hadn't worked, Scratch probably would have shit himself from that guttural blood laugh alone. But as it turns out, you don't have to worry about him ever again.

The air was unfamiliar the sun was harsh. The meteor scarred world you considered your home was no more. The city you built was nowhere to be found. The horizon was blocked up with trees. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it. A familiar shape in the tree tops. You had visited it once with the kid, though it's owner wouldn't let you inside. The little bitch never did like you.

You can hear moans in the distance. The Alternian undead that stalked in the light were never a problem after the meteors. You can't even recall where you heard about them. Was it Clubs and the stupid etiquette book? Took you years to get him to stop handing out trivia from the damn thing. Could have been the kid who mentioned it, though. You decide you don't care. You've still got the crap kicked out of you, it's not time for another fight. You climb the stupid tree and enter the little bitch's hive.

The troll's hive was abandoned. The little bitch was unique for making her home in the woods. No one had claimed this site since she left, long ago. Time had not been kind, the decaying treasures of childhood were scatted about the floor with reckless abandon.

The room was designed for a child, and in fact, designed by a child. The only chair available was far too small to support an adult, and you've no interest in getting in the rotting recoopricoon and seeing what sopor slime does to your open wounds. You lie on the floor, bleed, and reflect on how it went so wrong.

The best you can figure is... that it didn't. Those stupid troll kids lived their lives without ever playing the game, despite the obvious paradox. You begin to wonder what happened to the little bastards. But you remember that you don't care.

But boredom sets in, and you wonder anyway... You realize you didn't know that much about them in the end... except for the kid. You hope things turned out good for him.

You wonder about your alternate doppelganger. You wonder if he exists at all in this timeline. You wonder if he still won. You wonder what you would have done different than him. Rage and rampage, destroying everything... in the end it'd only lead to the same soul sucking boredom you've got right now, broken and bleeding on the floor of some brat's discarded home.

Top of the world and bottom of the heap, you can't see the difference anymore. You're sure this damn world is everyone else's happily ever after, but it's your hollowest victory yet. You take out Die's doll and stare at the white pin still sticking out of it.

After a few minutes you toss the doll aside. You built your city. You built it from the ground up with nothing. This dead world was yours. Just because it's alive now doesn't change who it's master is. Felt? Trolls? Nobody stands in your way.

You lie back down and laugh up some more blood. In the morning... or will it be nightfall... you don't care. Whenever you get back up, you're gonna go out and stab your way to the top of the world. Your city is gone... you'll build a new one.

That's what you do different, that's why that doppelganger makes you sick. He tears everything down till there's nothing left. You built your world from the ground up. You guess you've got a chance to do both here.

You lose consciousness. You're not sure if it's sleep. Not long ago you were sure you were about to die. You're not in much better shape now. You don't dwell on it. You're gonna be very busy if you get up.

[Path]

@Path ...I seem to have missed out on your Sleuth/Snowman fic, brb reading that

Sorry to disappoint. I'm currently working on it. MAYBE TONIGHT

YES TONIGHT


Hunting

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The dame slides into my office and for the first minute I'm just trying pay attention to what she's saying. That's a little tricky given I'm preoccupied trying to figure out on my own what her deal is, and that's not even to mention trying to coolly avoid looking at her. It's not just a hardboiled detective move. I also just know if I look at her, my jaw'll be too firmly on the floor for me to catch what she's actually here for.

She's tall- maybe not Pickle Inspector tall, but taller than me. She's wearing a hat with a wide brim, and her hair loose and long beneath it, falling down her back and past the curve of her hip. It's evening, and my office is thrown into chiaroscuran relief, all sharp blacks and whites and angles. Chiaroscuran. Big word, but a good one.

She doesn't wear any jewellery, but it's easy to see she's used to it- the way she holds her wrists, her long fingers, her shoulders back and her head posed, all imply she's dripping with wealth, though she's not demonstrating it. She wears a long dress, slinky, and a clinging coat. There's some sort of shiny weave to it; in my little world of all black and white and sharp points, the dame's curves seem to stand out green.

It's sort of hard not to notice. She's only the most gorgeous set of legs ever to walk into my office, and I'm just damn glad I cleaned earlier.

She's spinning me some story. It's mundane and entirely believeable. Her eyes are big and her lips part a little as she earnestly tells me her history. I wait until she finishes, and then wait a bit more.

"So, Mister Sleuth," she says, her voice still ringing with that utterly believable honesty, "do you think you could possibly help me?"

I tip my hat back and look up at her, standing in front of my desk. Her hands are clasped together, holding her purse in front of her. I know she's not a kid, but in that moment, she looks like one; some filly right out of boarding school and into a marriage her parents orchestrated and on her own for the first time.

"Lady," I say, "maybe if you want my help, you should try not telling me a pack of lies."

There's a pause, as she decides whether to be offended. In the end, she smiles. Then she sits down on my desk, right in front of me. "Well, then, Detective. Maybe you can tell me what you'd like to know." Her lips are Cupid's-bow curved.

I lean back. Her perfume is starting to make my head spin. It's not strong. It's just good. "Alright, then," I say. "I'd like to know what makes you think I'd buy that in the first place."

She laughs softly. "I've never met you. I like to test rumours for myself."

"Alright. I'd like to think I passed your little test." I reach into my pocket and pull out a book of matches and a case of cigarettes. She mimics my gesture, pulling a long cigarette holder out of her purse. I fit it in for her and give it back, and she leans in close as I light the match. Her eyes are on mine the whole time. They're deep, dark, and full of stars.

"Perhaps," she replies after a long drag, breathing a plume of smoke from her perfect lips. "I understand in colleges, professors don't release your marks until midterms. Are you a well-schooled man, Mister Sleuth?"

"Men like me never have time for extra studies," I say. "Don't need a degree to do what I do."

She smiles. "No, perhaps not." Her whole attitude has changed now. She's all sensual curves, secrets and smiles, and I can tell this is already a lot closer to her real self. Not all the way, though. She already said she was testing me.

"Alright, lady," I say abruptly, cutting the banter short. "Let's get going. I'm not known for my patience, which I'm sure your word on the street informed you. How about you cut the act and tell me what you really need?"

She raises an eyebrow delicately, and seems to shift slightly, retreating a little as she drops her second act. The first, mild rich housewife. The second, seductive and strong. And this one already seems to suit her better. I don't think she'll try the trick a third time.

"Alright, slick," she says, and her voice has lowered, quiet and slow like syrup, "if you're so eager to get around to business, let's talk."

I kick back in my seat, satisfied. "Sounding better already. And don't call me "slick". I'm not your boyfriend."

Her head tilts down a little, so she's looking up at me. "Not now," she says quietly.

"Not ever," I say with force.

"Alright, then," she accepts. "Maybe I was a fool to come here expecting anonymity. You and Slick, you're so close. Of course you'd know who I am."

"Not so close as all that, Snowman," I say. "But yeah, I know who you are. And I knew the second you walked in that door. And I know why you're here."

She smiles again. When she got here, she smiled timidly. When I called her on it, she smiled sensually. Now, she smiles like a tiger, slow and sharp and overwhelmingly in charge. "You do, do you, slick?"

"I told you not to call me that," I say. "You can't just give everybody that nickname. And yeah. I know why you're here. But I want you to spell it out for me."

Again, the predator smile. "I think you and Spades Slick are closer than you say," she muses. "You know him so well. That's why I came to you."

I know what the answer is. And I knew I'd say yes. But I want her to say it. I want her to prove she's willing to meet me on this smallest thing. My voice seems lost in the room as I ask her. "And what do you want me to do, being close as I am with Spades Slick?"

She smiles again, and I feel more than ever that though I had to hunt out her secrets in this whole conversation, that she's the one hunting me. Her words are simple and her voice is soft, but the words she says just turn my world around.

"I want you to find him," she says.

AN

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Hm. This sounds like it should be a set-up for something. But I'm not Jim (more's the pity), and don't have the patience for series. So don't get your hopes up for Part Two: In Which Problem Sleuth Hunts For Spades Slick, as it's probably not coming.
Next time on Hardboiled Storytime with Path, Problem Sleuth receives a visit from the Midnight Crew...

Edit: NINJA'D by excellent and creepy Slickfic! Nice work Degulus. Scratch using Droog's poolcue to beat Slick.... gog dammit I am a sucker for that convention.

[morpheoMancer]

... Well, I broke the sacred oath I made two years ago against ever writing fanfiction again. And so I present you with this... thing.

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jovialIllustrator [JI] began pestering lazySwordmaster [LS] at 12:15

[JI]: :) hey!
[JI]: :| hey!
[JI]: ;) are you sleeping again?
[JI]: >:O wake up, sleepyhead!
[LS]: gimme a break JI
[JI]: >;) you lazy bum, i knew i'd catch you snoozing again.
[LS]: no see i saw this cloud and this huge meteor was about to crash into the island
[LS]: and then it got really dark and i saw myself waking up in a weird place
[JI]: :\ you're having those weird dreams again?
[LS]: it wasnt a dream
[LS]: i think
[LS]: i dont know
[LS]: that place was really bizarre
[JI]: ;) yeah sure
[LS]: hey
[LS]: what was your hometown like
[LS]: you know
[LS]: where you grew up or whatever
[JI]: \:| what's with the non-sequiter?
[LS]: i dunno
[LS]: i just thought of it
[JI]: \/o_o\/ i've told you before, i don't remember
[LS]: nothing at all
[JI]: <:\ nothing.
[LS]: you ever want to go back
[JI]: :? well, i'm happy here.
[LS]: really
[JI]: ;) but you know, i wouldn't mind going to see it!
[LS]: id like to see it too
[LS]: along with any other worlds out there
[LS]: i wanna see them all
[JI]: ;D well that'd happen alot faster if you'd help out ZE more with that program his friend sent him!

zealousExplorer [ZE] invited jovialIllustrator [JI] to join a memo on the board ISLANDS VENTURE COMMITEE.
zealousExplorer [ZE] invited lazySwordsman [LS] to join a memo on the board ISLANDS VENTURE COMMITEE.

[ZE]: Hey, you two.
[ZE]: You aren't forgetting about me, are you?
[ZE]: So, I guess I'm the only one still working on fixing that program.
[JI]: :3 i was just getting LS to wake up.
[ZE]: Yeah right.
[ZE]: You're just as lazy as he is.
[JI]: ;) so you noticed.
[JI]: :D okay then, lets finish fixing it up!
[JI]: :) let's race to see who can finish their section of the code first!
[LS]: what
[ZE]: Get real.
[JI]: >:D ready set go!

[JI] has left the memo.

[ZE]: Huh.
[LS]: jeez
[LS]: so
[ZE]: Eat my programming dust.

[ZE] has left the memo.

[LS]: are we doing this or
[LS]: oh great

[LS] closed the memo.

A/N

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I'll probably continue this, possibly continuting with the pesterchat style if I feel like it. After the amount of time it took to format it, though... I think I'll switch to Hussnastian every once in a while. I think it'll be pretty fun.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Wigmund, you're back! I see the sheer force of your release has forced them to take the site down for repairs. Good, good.

@Degulus: Nice ploy on the cufflinks! I forgot that the Intermission takes place near Terezi's, doesn't it? Good memory!

@Path: A series? Ohboyohboyohboy.

@morpheoMancer: What is with that non sequiter? Drives me nuts every time.

[Jim Groovester]

@Path: Considering that you write at least 125% better than me, I don't think not having my patience is too much of an issue.