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

[DJ-P0N3]

Oh thanks PingZing!
I am intending to continue this, I am actually working on more right now.

The only seemably sane one is the Seer of Space.

[Dermonster]

Bits of Gulchstuck, Part two.

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SARGE began pestering gleefulHobbyest
S: PRIVATE DONUT STOP
S: PLEASE EXPLAIN JUST WHAT IN SAM HELL IS GOING ON HERE STOP
S: WHY IS MY BEAUTIFUL LAWN NOW A GIANT HOLE IN THE GROUND STOP
gH: Um, sarge, I dont think your supposed to use your real name on this thing.
S: PRIVATE I DO NOT CARE STOP
S: TELL ME WHY THERE IS A CRATER IN MY LAWN OR SO HELP ME GOD YOU WILL BE DEPORTED BACK TO ANTARTICA STOP
gH: Uh, sarge, I'm not from Antarctica. I don't think anyones from Antarctica.
gH: I think it's because its drafty! There aren't any houses to keep out the wind so they all moved away!
S: I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY SON IF YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON... STOP
gH: okay, okay, fine. Jerk.
gH: Also this isn't a morse code thingy. It's a computer!
S: THREE... TWO... ONE... STOP
gH: Arg! okay okay just don't hurt me!
gH: Uh, Church found this code in his memory banks for some sort of game.
S: GET TO THE POINT STOP
gH: Uh, so basically were all playing a reality warping game and your my client!
gH: You know that robot schematic disk you were sent?
S: YOU MEAN THE ONE I USED LOPEZS OPERATING SYSTEM TO RUN? YES. HE SAID SOMETHING LIKE "¡Oh Madre de Dios no se ejecutan que condenará a todos nosotros." STOP
S: I TOOK IT THAT HE WAS EXCITED TO BE UPGRADED AND POPPED IT IN STOP
S: NOW HE WON'T STOP DRAWING WEIRD CIRCLES STOP.
gH: Okay yeah that was the client game disk! The other one should be around there somewhere.
S: I THOUGHT IT WAS MORE SCHEMATICS STOP
S: SO I SHOVED IT IN THERE WITH THE OTHER ONE STOP
S: FOR DOUBLE THE SPEED OF UPGRADES! STOP
gH: Uh, I don't think thats how computers work, Sarge.
gH: Okay, yeah, it finished! Now I can see your house and...
gH: You went back to Blood Gulch!?
S: YEAH WHAT ABOUT IT STOP
S: IT HAS PERFECT DEFENSES FROM ANY BLUE INCURSION, MOST OF WHICH I BUILT MYSELF OVER THE YEARS STOP
gH: Oh, so That's why that mountain is gone... and that new mountain is over there?
gH: Whatever, I gotta put down some stuff before the meteors come!
S: METEORS STOP
S: WHERE STOP
gH: uh, Meteors like the one that made that very ugly hole in your lawn?
gH: Okay I gotta hurry, I put down this thingy over there, that here, and this there.
S: WHAT WAS TALL THAT RACKET STOP
S: WHERE DID ALL THIS COME FROM STOP
S: WHY IS MY WARTHOG FLOATING STOP
S: WHERE DID THAT THING COME FROM ITS HURTING MY EYES STOP
gH: It's Called a seizure kernal!
S: APTLY NAMED VERY PROACTIVE AIYDFQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ STOP
gH: Sarge!? He's Having a seizure! oh man, Oh man, LOPEZ!
gleefulhobbyest ceased pestering SARGE

[lantadyme]

Content

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The rising wind blows cool and dry over the battlefield, carrying with it the scent of distant streams and valleys, and her heart stirs a little with longing for the places she will never see.

"He must be a very talented boy. This is quite some weather," she says, her hair whipping in the breeze like pale leaves. He nods slightly, deep creases of pride forming at the corners of his mouth.

The glasses of wine and cups of tea are shaking, tinkling like windchimes that tremble, amber and pale gold and red, red, red. She is drunk enough that the world seems pleasantly liquid, but not enough that the sticky claret stains on the tablecloth aren't troubling.

"We did right by them," he says.

"Easy for you to say," she says.

She doesn't want to die here, in this smooth anaemic place, all grey earth and sunless light. It has not been easy to live with the knowledge that she will witness the end of the old universe and perish before the new can rise. It has not been pleasant to know the intimate details of the game code whose execution will destroy her. It has been almost unbearable to know that Rose will face unimaginable struggles alone.

They have all learnt to live with the knowledge, dealing with it the way everyone does. Wine, love, distractions. Strider with his insane heroic bravado.

But sometimes fate is kind. Now she knows that her daughter will have her friends at her side, and she herself will face death in good company.

"It's time," she says, and they stand, holding hands.

You know, I'm glad we didn't get to see Jack slaughter them so I can keep believing they weren't caught off guard. This is lovely.

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Sometimes he sits in the dusk of the living room, feeling his muscles relaxing in fractions, watching Mom's portrait.

It's hard. He himself doesn't remember being John's age, but he knew that Mom, with her endless sense of mischief and equally vast compassion, would have known what to do or say in every situation. Times when he all he could offer was a hug (that was mostly endured) and a second helping of dinner (which was barely tolerated), he felt lost. Almost equally as lost, no doubt, as John did, who did not need an adult who was floundering as badly as he was.

It was easier to resort to treating John when he was an age that the older Egbert understood him better. Even a year or two ago, he knew what would bring John out of a slump, or how to treat him if he was being too crabby. Now, it was as if John's poles had switched, and whenever Mr. Egbert attempted to address his son, it felt a little like running a gambit. Suggesting he watch one of his favorite movies when he was down would provoke an even heftier sigh, fetched from the bottom of his son's belly, and telling him to go work off some steam by playing outside earned a supremely frustrated yell, generally accompanied by hands being clapped over his face, many of the times to hide tears of frustration.

And as mysterious as John found these new mood swings, his father was just as thrown by them. Though he was a middle aged man, it was still an entirely new experience raising a boy just emerging as a teenager.

Sitting in the living room, sipping a snifter of brandy to aid with the loosening joints, he often pondered what Mom would do, or say. He pondered how she remained so young, even when she was an octagenarian and significantly older than her only son. He wondered how she could have ever put up with such a shy and practical minded man such as himself, how she put her soul into a joke shop while he fretted endlessly about revenue and recoups and turn overs.

He would realize that age was never a factor when plumbing the depths of a person's hopes, fears, and dreams. John was very much like his Nana, though he would never know it; they both possessed the same, ephemereal spirit, limitless font of trust in the brightness of the future, and selflessness. He cherished them both for being so free and clear minded, when it was hard for him to even see a horizon, his nose always down to countless reams of number-dotted papers.

He would realize that beneath John's growing impatience and testiness, there was a strong foundation of his mother in the boy's nature. As much as he watched his mother, the last likeness of her hanging above the mantlepiece, where he always kept a flame burning for her, he watched his son. He watched him restrain his frustration with his father and put up with his fussing, and consume more than was probably healthy for him in one sitting. And he would, sometimes grudgingly, anticipate a hug was needed, and give it to him before he could spring it on his boy.

Mr. Egbert woud sit in the dark, and think of his family.

Best dad. :( I will miss him.

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@Graven: Pff, don't be jealous, man. You crank out reams of great stuff.
@Kazerad: Thank you, man. Glad you enjoyed it.
@PingZing: The trolls are such a pile of psychological dualities. It's fun to untangle that mess.

[Sporkaganza]

Hey guys, I finally got SOSburb up on AO3!

No new update, since it was a total pain in the ass to convert the formatting for those chapters. But just thought you'd like to know.

(BTW, I removed the links to each individual chapter in my signature. Do you think I should put them back in?)

[KarneWarrior]

Chalk
I kill a turtle

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There are many creationism legends on Discworld. some say it has always been. The priests of Om belive that he created the heavens, the planet, everything in seven days. Most think that the Gods created the landscape slowly. Still others think that the universe was created by a fat old man with a silly accent, sitting at home on a strange device, attempting to write a storybook.

These are all hopelessly wrong.

But the creation of the universe doesn'ty matter. What does matter was that the Great Atuin, the mammoth turtle that held four elephants that held Discworld on their backs, was dying. It was dying, not due to old age, not due to some long forgotten evil, not due to the folly of man nor dwarf. No, the Great Atuin was dying because the Great Atuin was swimming through his Mother-in-law's territory, and she was quite litterally talking him to death.

"I don't know WHY you won't get a job, it can't be that hard you're a space-faring turtle! If that doesn't at least land you a place at the local fast food place I don't know what will. And what's that on your back-"

"Oh my lord will you please SHUT UP?"

"- And is that a planet on there? That's horrible you need to let those poor people down and let them have a normal life with a normal, round planet I mean look at it it's squashed flat. Those poor dears, and those poor elephants too they can't possibly be holding up well with that lump of rock on their backs, tell me you give them health insurance-"

And though it seemed like this was always going to happen, it was meant to happen, and if you thought that it would even be true, the real reason was a game. A game played by the worst wizard ever to set foot on Discworld, a strange Tourist, a young Witch, and one captain of the Guard.

And it would be great fun.

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Yeah so who didn't see this coming?

....

I love you. I'm going to bear your children.

Thanks

Oh god AC you're going to have to fight me first, because DAMN I love you, Karne.

I finally have girls fighting over me.
My life is complete.

Actually, I'm a guy. And normally I don't swing that way. I am just that excited about this.

I have guys fighting girls over me.
my life has been weirdly twisted in strange ways. :P

Yeah sorry man, now that I actually rack my memory I think I knew you were a dude...

Either way praise is always fucking awesome. It keeps me in my place as over-confident asshole foil for those people on here who over-disparage thair work. (I'm 90% sure I spelled that wrong...)

[Embargo]

alt!Dave Eridan?

Yes please.

Edit: Fuck colortags. The color is similar enough anyway.

Hipster 'rails

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--caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling torturousGrit [TG] --
CA: seein as wwere gettin closer to the moment wwhere you decide to run headfirst into a fuckin sun im only gonna ask you to not do that one last time
TG: Dude, cmon. I've already explained this to you.
TG: I'm not really going to die, its just my dreamself.
CA: okay i think you dont get it as fuckin usual so im gonna havve to explain this wwhole dreamself thing to you again
CA: dreamselvves are pretty important in their owwn wways evven if you cant see it right noww
CA: but that's not the point
CA: your gonna disappear or somethin pretty soon and i havve no idea wwhy
CA: you could be dead for all i knoww wwhich is to say i understand jack shit about wwhat happens
TG: It could be that I'm just trying to catch forty winks before shaking the game to its very foundations.
TG: Ever think of that?
CA: wwell yeah youre obviously asleep here suckin air like a filthy land dwweller wwould
CA: and youre probably runnin around in your trash blood dreams wwrittin more of that godawwful seahorseshit that you call literature
CA: wwhich goes against evverythin ivve been teachin you im pretty sure i made it clear that you should be readin up on your history
CA: if not you then wwho is gonna wwrite dowwn and preservve your culture
TG: Okay, this conversation suddenly stopped being about whatever you were flapping your useless gills about and is now about something else.
CA: wwhatevver im just sayin that youre bein especially fuckin reckless and throwwin awway a lot more than wwhat i had wwhen i wwas playin
TG: Well, I can't really tell you why I "disappear" from view because I don't know myself.
TG: Still, the plan was made by me.
TG: Thusly, there is no way it can fail. I'm in control and I will deliver the single most devastating blow to Jack before waking up and slaying him myself; as a knight should.
CA: your ovverconfidence has gotta be astronomical
CA: thats howw a lot of up and comin heroes back on my planet got crushed
CA: they didn't look at all the possibilites and got turned into livve bait for the underwwater finbeasts
TG: Did they use the right knot?
CA: oh god not this again
TG: I mean, if they're going to string anyone up and wait for finbeast douchelords to come and eat people, I would assume that the correct knot would be utilized.
TG: Can't have anyone dangling up in the air without following protocol.
TG: A careless criminal will watch as vicious and bloodthirsty finbeasts circle around him, waiting for the alpha to begin the attack. His fear is palpable, and his cries of mercy are being ignored wholeheartedly. Eridan, douchelord grandmaster, watches over the events with only the faintest of grins. Truly he is the greatest of all the trolls, which is to say he is the best of the mentally deficient clowns that run around trolling people horribly and being unironic about the worst things.
CA: enough i cant handle reading more of your shitty prose especially considerin im tryin to havve a sort of civvil and serious convversation here
CA: youre puttin too much faith in those evvil wwrigglin assholes they dont do anythin but stick their slimy protrudin tentacles wwhere they don't belong
CA: i had to spend half my life feedin one of those little fuckers back on my home planet and evvery time id go back to sleep id see a million wwavving tentacles twwisting themselves around each other and screamin stuff in my dreams
CA: nothin but unsolvvable mysteries and monsters that could only spawwn out of my wworst nightmares
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be if i just let a bunch of disgustin god monster things lead you on like some kind of blind idiot
CA: and since youre so damn stubborn im gonna havve to stop you myself
TG: Yeah, right. How are you even planning on doing that anyway.
CA: ha im really glad you asked that you unbelievvably, galactically stupid human
CA: ivve already got someone here invvestigatin into you and your plans
TG: Wait, what?
CA: yeah i bet you didnt expect id get some muscle on this one
CA: wwell i did and shes been sniffin and lickin at the chance to get ovver here and tear you a neww load gaper
CA: the seer of fuckin mind is ridin here on a vvirtual fuckin rainboww goin all the wway to your univverse to delivver some pure alternian justice to your presumptuous ass
TG: Am I reading this right? You actually found someone willing to put up with your nonsensical hipster idiocy?
TG: And this person is a GIRL? My, how you've grown.
TG: It seems like only yesterday that I was handing you your own slick, semi-aquatic ass back to you on a platter of solid gold adorned with only the rarest of crystals.
CA: lets see wwhos gonna be the proud recipient a wwhos ass noww you arrogant pile of whale discharge
TG: Perhaps it would do me well to start digging my own grave. Surely this Seer will peer into me and read me like an open book, letting all of my tawdry little secrets spill into the light of my seizure inducing land.
CA: yeah get goddamn shovvelin on that uh
CA: gravve
TG: What will this Seer do to me once she has discovered the true nature of my crimes?
CA: shell tear you to pieces before drinkin your blood and hangin you from your owwn home
CA: and uh
CA: fuck maybe i should stop
CA: you arent really goin to die shes not like that wwith people usually
TG: Dude, I know. You aren't supposed to tell me.
TG: The entire point of burning me is to maintain the joke for as long as possible until we declare it sufficiently beaten to death or boring.
CA: i dont get your alien humor wwhats the point of puttin all that effort on covverin up something that evverybody knowws is a joke
TG: I guess I still have to teach you a few things about humans.
CA: i only brought ter on this because she kept buggin me on wwho that fuckin hipster wwas and howw he made that funny lookin rope attack people
TG: Wait... she called me a hipster?
CA: her name is terezi she is the one wwho types wwith all the 1s and 3s and 4s
TG: Yeah, that creepy girl who likes to taste colors or whatever. I Just thought all of that color crap she would write about was just some ironic roleplay or something.
TG: Regardless, I expect updates on her investigation as it continues.
CA: yeah sure
TG: Until I crash into a giant green sun with a bomb and blow it up of course.
CA: ok dont think this is more of your dumb human roleplay or ww you guys do but i wwas serious about not lettin you go
CA: im not about to let you throww awway your life ovver this plan you thought up wwith a bunch of monster gods
TG: Wasn't your decision to make in the first place.

-- caligulasAquarium's [CA'S] computer exploded. --

TG: Heh, that never stops being funny.
TG: Showmanship, Eridan. You've gotta learn it someday.

-- tortuousGrit's [TG's] computer exploded. --

[Path]

I am just having way too much trouble wrapping up Ambush. I might have to leave it and come back to it. Frustrating.
In the meantime, I have a different, much longer, fic for you. I'm not sure how many parts it'll be, but we'll see!

In Strange Places, Part I

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Pickle Inspector picks another wilted leaf off the sad plant on his desk. He plucks it, looks at it for a few minutes, and adds it to the growing pile of dead leaves in his waste paper basket. Soon there will be more dead leaf than plant. He is not a good gardener. But he loves plants. He has something colourful in his office and he likes that, even if most of the leaves are more brown than green.

He smiles at it fondly for another minute before considering tea. He has not considered it for long when there is an urgent knocking at his door, soft and rapid. He answers the door himself before remembering Problem Sleuth's reminder that a real detective lets his visitors let themselves in, to show how busy and important he is. Pickle Inspector always forgets that part. Otherwise he thinks he is a pretty okay detective.

He opens the door to a rare sight- something at his eye level. It is not another person's eyes, however, but the top of an extremely tall top hat. Pickle Inspector's gaze slowly travels down, passing over the stitched number and curved brim. Eventually he runs out of hat and meets eyes. They're staring up at him, through him, as if he wasn't there at all; violet shadows smudge beneath the man's eyes. He wears entirely green; green suit with long tails, shoes, spats, hat, bow-tie. His hand remains in the knocking position for a moment, frozen, before he pulls it back, clasping a white doll in both hands, tight to his chest. He is thin, his shoulders sharp and protruding. He looks as if he will shatter into a hundred pieces if he is so much as touched.

His name is Die, and it is the third time Pickle Inspector has met him.

[Rimbaum]

I am just having way too much trouble wrapping up Ambush. I might have to leave it and come back to it. Frustrating.
In the meantime, I have a different, much longer, fic for you. I'm not sure how many parts it'll be, but we'll see!

In Strange Places, Part I

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hide spoiler

Pickle Inspector picks another wilted leaf off the sad plant on his desk. He plucks it, looks at it for a few minutes, and adds it to the growing pile of dead leaves in his waste paper basket. Soon there will be more dead leaf than plant. He is not a good gardener. But he loves plants. He has something colourful in his office and he likes that, even if most of the leaves are more brown than green.

He smiles at it fondly for another minute before considering tea. He has not considered it for long when there is an urgent knocking at his door, soft and rapid. He answers the door himself before remembering Problem Sleuth's reminder that a real detective lets his visitors let themselves in, to show how busy and important he is. Pickle Inspector always forgets that part. Otherwise he thinks he is a pretty okay detective.

He opens the door to a rare sight- something at his eye level. It is not another person's eyes, however, but the top of an extremely tall top hat. Pickle Inspector's gaze slowly travels down, passing over the stitched number and curved brim. Eventually he runs out of hat and meets eyes. They're staring up at him, through him, as if he wasn't there at all; violet shadows smudge beneath the man's eyes. He wears entirely green; green suit with long tails, shoes, spats, hat, bow-tie. His hand remains in the knocking position for a moment, frozen, before he pulls it back, clasping a white doll in both hands, tight to his chest. He is thin, his shoulders sharp and protruding. He looks as if he will shatter into a hundred pieces if he is so much as touched.

His name is Die, and it is the third time Pickle Inspector has met him.

...

Third time? :O Color me intrigued right off the bat!

[-Benedict]

alt!Dave Eridan?

Yes please.

Edit: Fuck colortags. The color is similar enough anyway.
HAHAHAHA I WIN EMBARGO

Hipster 'rails

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--caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling torturousGrit [TG] --
CA: seein as wwere gettin closer to the moment wwhere you decide to run headfirst into a fuckin sun im only gonna ask you to not do that one last time
TG: Dude, cmon. I've already explained this to you.
TG: I'm not really going to die, its just my dreamself.
CA: okay i think you dont get it as fuckin usual so im gonna havve to explain this wwhole dreamself thing to you again
CA: dreamselvves are pretty important in their owwn wways evven if you cant see it right noww
CA: but that's not the point
CA: your gonna disappear or somethin pretty soon and i havve no idea wwhy
CA: you could be dead for all i knoww wwhich is to say i understand jack shit about wwhat happens
TG: It could be that I'm just trying to catch forty winks before shaking the game to its very foundations.
TG: Ever think of that?
CA: wwell yeah youre obviously asleep here suckin air like a filthy land dwweller wwould
CA: and youre probably runnin around in your trash blood dreams wwrittin more of that godawwful seahorseshit that you call literature
CA: wwhich goes against evverythin ivve been teachin you im pretty sure i made it clear that you should be readin up on your history
CA: if not you then wwho is gonna wwrite dowwn and preservve your culture
TG: Okay, this conversation suddenly stopped being about whatever you were flapping your useless gills about and is now about something else.
CA: wwhatevver im just sayin that youre bein especially fuckin reckless and throwwin awway a lot more than wwhat i had wwhen i wwas playin
TG: Well, I can't really tell you why I "disappear" from view because I don't know myself.
TG: Still, the plan was made by me.
TG: Thusly, there is no way it can fail. I'm in control and I will deliver the single most devastating blow to Jack before waking up and slaying him myself; as a knight should.
CA: your ovverconfidence has gotta be astronomical
CA: thats howw a lot of up and comin heroes back on my planet got crushed
CA: they didn't look at all the possibilites and got turned into livve bait for the underwwater finbeasts
TG: Did they use the right knot?
CA: oh god not this again
TG: I mean, if they're going to string anyone up and wait for finbeast douchelords to come and eat people, I would assume that the correct knot would be utilized.
TG: Can't have anyone dangling up in the air without following protocol.
TG: A careless criminal will watch as vicious and bloodthirsty finbeasts circle around him, waiting for the alpha to begin the attack. His fear is palpable, and his cries of mercy are being ignored wholeheartedly. Eridan, douchelord grandmaster, watches over the events with only the faintest of grins. Truly he is the greatest of all the trolls, which is to say he is the best of the mentally deficient clowns that run around trolling people horribly and being unironic about the worst things.
CA: enough i cant handle reading more of your shitty prose especially considerin im tryin to havve a sort of civvil and serious convversation here
CA: youre puttin too much faith in those evvil wwrigglin assholes they dont do anythin but stick their slimy protrudin tentacles wwhere they don't belong
CA: i had to spend half my life feedin one of those little fuckers back on my home planet and evvery time id go back to sleep id see a million wwavving tentacles twwisting themselves around each other and screamin stuff in my dreams
CA: nothin but unsolvvable mysteries and monsters that could only spawwn out of my wworst nightmares
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be if i just let a bunch of disgustin god monster things lead you on like some kind of blind idiot
CA: and since youre so damn stubborn im gonna havve to stop you myself
TG: Yeah, right. How are you even planning on doing that anyway.
CA: ha im really glad you asked that you unbelievvably, galactically stupid human
CA: ivve already got someone here invvestigatin into you and your plans
TG: Wait, what?
CA: yeah i bet you didnt expect id get some muscle on this one
CA: wwell i did and shes been sniffin and lickin at the chance to get ovver here and tear you a neww load gaper
CA: the seer of fuckin mind is ridin here on a vvirtual fuckin rainboww goin all the wway to your univverse to delivver some pure alternian justice to your presumptuous ass
TG: Am I reading this right? You actually found someone willing to put up with your nonsensical hipster idiocy?
TG: And this person is a GIRL? My, how you've grown.
TG: It seems like only yesterday that I was handing you your own slick, semi-aquatic ass back to you on a platter of solid gold adorned with only the rarest of crystals.
CA: lets see wwhos gonna be the proud recipient a wwhos ass noww you arrogant pile of whale discharge
TG: Perhaps it would do me well to start digging my own grave. Surely this Seer will peer into me and read me like an open book, letting all of my tawdry little secrets spill into the light of my seizure inducing land.
CA: yeah get goddamn shovvelin on that uh
CA: gravve
TG: What will this Seer do to me once she has discovered the true nature of my crimes?
CA: shell tear you to pieces before drinkin your blood and hangin you from your owwn home
CA: and uh
CA: fuck maybe i should stop
CA: you arent really goin to die shes not like that wwith people usually
TG: Dude, I know. You aren't supposed to tell me.
TG: The entire point of burning me is to maintain the joke for as long as possible until we declare it sufficiently beaten to death or boring.
CA: i dont get your alien humor wwhats the point of puttin all that effort on covverin up something that evverybody knowws is a joke
TG: I guess I still have to teach you a few things about humans.
CA: i only brought ter on this because she kept buggin me on wwho that fuckin hipster wwas and howw he made that funny lookin rope attack people
TG: Wait... she called me a hipster?
CA: her name is terezi she is the one wwho types wwith all the 1s and 3s and 4s
TG: Yeah, that creepy girl who likes to taste colors or whatever. I Just thought all of that color crap she would write about was just some ironic roleplay or something.
TG: Regardless, I expect updates on her investigation as it continues.
CA: yeah sure
TG: Until I crash into a giant green sun with a bomb and blow it up of course.
CA: ok dont think this is more of your dumb human roleplay or ww you guys do but i wwas serious about not lettin you go
CA: im not about to let you throww awway your life ovver this plan you thought up wwith a bunch of monster gods
TG: Wasn't your decision to make in the first place.

-- caligulasAquarium's [CA'S] computer exploded. --

TG: Heh, that never stops being funny.
TG: Showmanship, Eridan. You've gotta learn it someday.

-- tortuousGrit's [TG's] computer exploded. --

Oh man, this is great. tortuousGrit is my favorite Dave hands down, and Eridan's characterization was pitch-perfect.
CA: youre puttin too much faith in those evvil wwrigglin assholes they dont do anythin but stick their slimy protrudin tentacles wwhere they don't belong
CA: i had to spend half my life feedin one of those little fuckers back on my home planet and evvery time id go back to sleep id see a million wwavving tentacles twwisting themselves around each other and screamin stuff in my dreams
CA: nothin but unsolvvable mysteries and monsters that could only spawwn out of my wworst nightmares
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be if i just let a bunch of disgustin god monster things lead you on like some kind of blind idiot
Horrorterrors in a nutshell. Great job. I especially love how it mirror's Kanaya's conversation with Rose.

also path whysit hafta be so damn short lets get all what this is going on about and keep up the going because it is awesome

[Embargo]

alt!Dave Eridan?

Yes please.

Edit: Fuck colortags. The color is similar enough anyway.
HAHAHAHA I WIN EMBARGO

Hipster 'rails

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hide spoiler

--caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling torturousGrit [TG] --
CA: seein as wwere gettin closer to the moment wwhere you decide to run headfirst into a fuckin sun im only gonna ask you to not do that one last time
TG: Dude, cmon. I've already explained this to you.
TG: I'm not really going to die, its just my dreamself.
CA: okay i think you dont get it as fuckin usual so im gonna havve to explain this wwhole dreamself thing to you again
CA: dreamselvves are pretty important in their owwn wways evven if you cant see it right noww
CA: but that's not the point
CA: your gonna disappear or somethin pretty soon and i havve no idea wwhy
CA: you could be dead for all i knoww wwhich is to say i understand jack shit about wwhat happens
TG: It could be that I'm just trying to catch forty winks before shaking the game to its very foundations.
TG: Ever think of that?
CA: wwell yeah youre obviously asleep here suckin air like a filthy land dwweller wwould
CA: and youre probably runnin around in your trash blood dreams wwrittin more of that godawwful seahorseshit that you call literature
CA: wwhich goes against evverythin ivve been teachin you im pretty sure i made it clear that you should be readin up on your history
CA: if not you then wwho is gonna wwrite dowwn and preservve your culture
TG: Okay, this conversation suddenly stopped being about whatever you were flapping your useless gills about and is now about something else.
CA: wwhatevver im just sayin that youre bein especially fuckin reckless and throwwin awway a lot more than wwhat i had wwhen i wwas playin
TG: Well, I can't really tell you why I "disappear" from view because I don't know myself.
TG: Still, the plan was made by me.
TG: Thusly, there is no way it can fail. I'm in control and I will deliver the single most devastating blow to Jack before waking up and slaying him myself; as a knight should.
CA: your ovverconfidence has gotta be astronomical
CA: thats howw a lot of up and comin heroes back on my planet got crushed
CA: they didn't look at all the possibilites and got turned into livve bait for the underwwater finbeasts
TG: Did they use the right knot?
CA: oh god not this again
TG: I mean, if they're going to string anyone up and wait for finbeast douchelords to come and eat people, I would assume that the correct knot would be utilized.
TG: Can't have anyone dangling up in the air without following protocol.
TG: A careless criminal will watch as vicious and bloodthirsty finbeasts circle around him, waiting for the alpha to begin the attack. His fear is palpable, and his cries of mercy are being ignored wholeheartedly. Eridan, douchelord grandmaster, watches over the events with only the faintest of grins. Truly he is the greatest of all the trolls, which is to say he is the best of the mentally deficient clowns that run around trolling people horribly and being unironic about the worst things.
CA: enough i cant handle reading more of your shitty prose especially considerin im tryin to havve a sort of civvil and serious convversation here
CA: youre puttin too much faith in those evvil wwrigglin assholes they dont do anythin but stick their slimy protrudin tentacles wwhere they don't belong
CA: i had to spend half my life feedin one of those little fuckers back on my home planet and evvery time id go back to sleep id see a million wwavving tentacles twwisting themselves around each other and screamin stuff in my dreams
CA: nothin but unsolvvable mysteries and monsters that could only spawwn out of my wworst nightmares
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be if i just let a bunch of disgustin god monster things lead you on like some kind of blind idiot
CA: and since youre so damn stubborn im gonna havve to stop you myself
TG: Yeah, right. How are you even planning on doing that anyway.
CA: ha im really glad you asked that you unbelievvably, galactically stupid human
CA: ivve already got someone here invvestigatin into you and your plans
TG: Wait, what?
CA: yeah i bet you didnt expect id get some muscle on this one
CA: wwell i did and shes been sniffin and lickin at the chance to get ovver here and tear you a neww load gaper
CA: the seer of fuckin mind is ridin here on a vvirtual fuckin rainboww goin all the wway to your univverse to delivver some pure alternian justice to your presumptuous ass
TG: Am I reading this right? You actually found someone willing to put up with your nonsensical hipster idiocy?
TG: And this person is a GIRL? My, how you've grown.
TG: It seems like only yesterday that I was handing you your own slick, semi-aquatic ass back to you on a platter of solid gold adorned with only the rarest of crystals.
CA: lets see wwhos gonna be the proud recipient a wwhos ass noww you arrogant pile of whale discharge
TG: Perhaps it would do me well to start digging my own grave. Surely this Seer will peer into me and read me like an open book, letting all of my tawdry little secrets spill into the light of my seizure inducing land.
CA: yeah get goddamn shovvelin on that uh
CA: gravve
TG: What will this Seer do to me once she has discovered the true nature of my crimes?
CA: shell tear you to pieces before drinkin your blood and hangin you from your owwn home
CA: and uh
CA: fuck maybe i should stop
CA: you arent really goin to die shes not like that wwith people usually
TG: Dude, I know. You aren't supposed to tell me.
TG: The entire point of burning me is to maintain the joke for as long as possible until we declare it sufficiently beaten to death or boring.
CA: i dont get your alien humor wwhats the point of puttin all that effort on covverin up something that evverybody knowws is a joke
TG: I guess I still have to teach you a few things about humans.
CA: i only brought ter on this because she kept buggin me on wwho that fuckin hipster wwas and howw he made that funny lookin rope attack people
TG: Wait... she called me a hipster?
CA: her name is terezi she is the one wwho types wwith all the 1s and 3s and 4s
TG: Yeah, that creepy girl who likes to taste colors or whatever. I Just thought all of that color crap she would write about was just some ironic roleplay or something.
TG: Regardless, I expect updates on her investigation as it continues.
CA: yeah sure
TG: Until I crash into a giant green sun with a bomb and blow it up of course.
CA: ok dont think this is more of your dumb human roleplay or ww you guys do but i wwas serious about not lettin you go
CA: im not about to let you throww awway your life ovver this plan you thought up wwith a bunch of monster gods
TG: Wasn't your decision to make in the first place.

-- caligulasAquarium's [CA'S] computer exploded. --

TG: Heh, that never stops being funny.
TG: Showmanship, Eridan. You've gotta learn it someday.

-- tortuousGrit's [TG's] computer exploded. --

Oh man, this is great. tortuousGrit is my favorite Dave hands down, and Eridan's characterization was pitch-perfect.
CA: youre puttin too much faith in those evvil wwrigglin assholes they dont do anythin but stick their slimy protrudin tentacles wwhere they don't belong
CA: i had to spend half my life feedin one of those little fuckers back on my home planet and evvery time id go back to sleep id see a million wwavving tentacles twwisting themselves around each other and screamin stuff in my dreams
CA: nothin but unsolvvable mysteries and monsters that could only spawwn out of my wworst nightmares
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be if i just let a bunch of disgustin god monster things lead you on like some kind of blind idiot
Horrorterrors in a nutshell. Great job. I especially love how it mirror's Kanaya's conversation with Rose.

...

You win. I yield.

Also, thanks for your comments. The real inspiration was just thinking of Terezi and how she would react to seeing Dave's childhood. Not very coolkid and interesting to be honest. But Eridan? Oh man is he all on that. Comes in swinging black, misses, and settles for a pale relationship.

My head canon is pretty much just awkward dumb, but I guess it comes up with a good idea every once while. Glad to see you liked it though.

In any case, thanks for the comments.

[Path]

Eridan, douchelord grandmaster, watches over the events with only the faintest of grins. Truly he is the greatest of all the trolls, which is to say he is the best of the mentally deficient clowns that run around trolling people horribly and being unironic about the worst things.

I am so tempted to take "douchelord grandmaster" as my forum title, you have no idea.

-- caligulasAquarium's [CA'S] computer exploded. --

TG: Heh, that never stops being funny.
TG: Showmanship, Eridan. You've gotta learn it someday.

-- tortuousGrit's [TG's] computer exploded. --

Okay awesome.

...

Third time? :O Color me intrigued right off the bat!

Basically my goal in life is to catch the attention and praise of you, Jim, and emesis, who are like my favourite Problem Sleuth fans. I know I'm doing it right if you guys like it. PRAISE METER: 1/3 APPROVALS GAINED

also path whysit hafta be so damn short lets get all what this is going on about and keep up the going because it is awesome

I debated over posting the next segment as well, but it's so long. Take this as the intro, if you will. The next one is Considerably Larger. Also durrrrrr thank you

[Embargo]

Eridan, douchelord grandmaster, watches over the events with only the faintest of grins. Truly he is the greatest of all the trolls, which is to say he is the best of the mentally deficient clowns that run around trolling people horribly and being unironic about the worst things.

I am so tempted to take "douchelord grandmaster" as my forum title, you have no idea.

YOU TAKE THAT TITLE! YOU TAKE IT NOW!

[Path]

:|

[-Benedict]

:|

yesssssss

the fanfic thread is AWESOME

[Embargo]

:|

yesssssss

the fanfic thread is AWESOME

Seconded.

[arcaneCalligramancer]

embargo that's pretty awesome what you've got right there

and you need to go into further detail

just throwing that out there

[battlerek]

Chalk
I kill a turtle

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There are many creationism legends on Discworld. some say it has always been. The priests of Om belive that he created the heavens, the planet, everything in seven days. Most think that the Gods created the landscape slowly. Still others think that the universe was created by a fat old man with a silly accent, sitting at home on a strange device, attempting to write a storybook.

These are all hopelessly wrong.

But the creation of the universe doesn'ty matter. What does matter was that the Great Atuin, the mammoth turtle that held four elephants that held Discworld on their backs, was dying. It was dying, not due to old age, not due to some long forgotten evil, not due to the folly of man nor dwarf. No, the Great Atuin was dying because the Great Atuin was swimming through his Mother-in-law's territory, and she was quite litterally talking him to death.

"I don't know WHY you won't get a job, it can't be that hard you're a space-faring turtle! If that doesn't at least land you a place at the local fast food place I don't know what will. And what's that on your back-"

"Oh my lord will you please SHUT UP?"

"- And is that a planet on there? That's horrible you need to let those poor people down and let them have a normal life with a normal, round planet I mean look at it it's squashed flat. Those poor dears, and those poor elephants too they can't possibly be holding up well with that lump of rock on their backs, tell me you give them health insurance-"

And though it seemed like this was always going to happen, it was meant to happen, and if you thought that it would even be true, the real reason was a game. A game played by the worst wizard ever to set foot on Discworld, a strange Tourist, a young Witch, and one captain of the Guard.

And it would be great fun.

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Yeah so who didn't see this coming?

Carrot, Rincewind, Twoflower and Tiffany Aching. Playing Sburb.

This is the best thing to happen ever in the history of everything.

[Rebbe]

Bite Down: Part 1 Part 2

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Equius brings her food; cans of some foul sugary beverage Nepeta had brought him one time to keep her energy up, dried meats for protein and bitter vegetables for other vitamins. He's been injured before and he knows what the body needs to reknit itself. In truth, milk is the best for that, but he only shares that with guests, not neighbors who barge in unannounced demanding insane things.

Had she gone to any other hive she would have been culled on the spot. Equius considers himself noble and exceptionally generous for doing otherwise, and he fights against the anger that rises up in him when she curses, the disgust he feels when her head lolls back in that vulnerable way and he does nothing but watch her. (It would be so easy to simply snap her neck—)

She makes a fuss about it but she does eat, even the bitterest of vegetables. She seems to be ravenous, her body telling her what she needs to replenish the pints of lost blood. In between she sleeps and in those times Equius often stands quietly in the doorway to his workroom, squinting through the cracked lenses of his glasses and wondering how she never wakes up screaming.

He requires the sopor slime to sleep. It's a necessity. Otherwise his dreams are plagued with visions of himself bathed in every color of the rainbow (even purple), wading through an endless army of enemy trolls and swinging the massive white jawbone of some long-dead animal. Their skulls explode and their limbs rupture and he is the STRONG rampaging tyrant that never stops murdering.

It's most uncivilized. It leaves him terrified and shaking, and even Aurthour's warm hands on his shoulders cannot still him after those dreams.

Vriska sleeps soundly, though, her broken body somehow suppressing the nightmares and holding her in an odd healing torpor. She wakes when she's ravenous and sleeps the rest of the time.

"Your arm," he asks her eventually, averting his eyes as she chews like a disgusting peasant. "It is unfortunate that you lost it."

She doesn't talk, curled up as she is on her side. Thankfully she swallows before she answers him. "Stupid lousy white text guy," she mutters through her bleeding lips, more to herself than anything.

Equius ignores her rambling for the most part. He assumes that it all has to do with her games and how she got the injury in the first place. He tries again. "I understand that you have voiced your dislike for my fondness for robotics. But you are crippled, and as a fellow blueblood I feel compelled to help you in some way."

"What?" Vriska slurs, actually looking up at him and he can tell even through the bandages pressed into her ruined eye that she's confused.

"I can craft you a new arm. A robotic one, yes, but it will reduce your disability."

Her face bends into confusion again, but he can tell that this time she's thinking, weighing his offer as genuine or not. Equius would never offer something falsely just to snatch it back again. He has more honor than that. But he understands that someone in her position—entirely helpless and reliant on him in this time of need—would be wary. He is a blueblood after all and bluebloods betray. Part of him is disgusted with his behavior, his utter subjugation of the culling laws and his own nature, but her eye is unfocused and her reaction times slow and the more pathetic she is, the more he feels like this whole ordeal is some debauch charity through which he will only venerate himself.

"It won't be, like, creepy and stuff?" she asks, squinting warily at him.

He doesn't intend anything he does to be creepy, but people seem to think it is anyway. "No," he says, because he means nothing depraved with the offer. He simply wants to help her. He speaks in words he knows she will understand: "Consider it an extra favor on top of the one you already owe me."

Vriska stares him down, the confusion gone and her face cast in frustrated anger instead. Another favor, favor piled on top of favor, and she is not happy about the thought of being at his beck and call. She's not really different enough on the blood spectrum from him to consider taking advantage of that in any way other than helps, but he can tell she doesn't see it that way. He met Aradia through her after all, and she must know the kinds of things he asks of the redblood, though she always refuses him.

"Would you submit to this offer?" he asks, hoping to lead her thoughts to less private things.

"You want me to ask, don't you? To beeeeeeeeg."

He pauses, and in the silence he realizes he does. He wants her to ask him, to indulge him in the hierarchy, though as close as their blood colors are this is as far as he can twist it.

Her face contorts in disgust, a slip of blue blood running from her eye, and she turns away from him. "Fine, you creepy creep. Build me an arm, please. I have a life to live and things to do and it'll all be easier with two arms instead of one."

That's not precisely what he wanted, but with his perversion of the hemospectrum hanging in the air like this, exposed for all to see, he shies away from pressing the point.

"Very well."

---

A few days have passed or something. Vriska isn't really sure because she wakes and sleeps and wakes and every time she never remembers a single dream. She's not used to that. She's used to dreaming of spiders and blood and the crashing ocean, Eridan's over-practiced orphaner's laugh echoing over it and the searing eyes of her lusus in the sky like eight blue moons. She wakes again, hungry but not as ravenous as before. She fumbles for the food he keeps putting on the table just within her reach.

There's a quiet pounding off to the side, the sizzle of something burning and the stink of ionized metal in the air. It reminds her of the explosion for a second and she winces in phantom pain at the memory of scorching plasma rushing down her lungs again. Ow, it had hurt. It's over though, it's done and she makes herself not think about it, pushing it away as she recovers and turns her head to squint at the source of that sound.

Equius is bent over another work table, this one cleared of the robot junk that's littered all over the rest of the room. (Eyes, glass eyes everywhere watching her, reflecting that blue glow like a thousand tiny moons.) He's welding something, his black glasses protecting his vision, and she squints harder into the light thrown off by the welding torch, trying to see what the hell he's doing that he has to be so noisy and bright and wake her up.

"What is that?" she asks, and for once she doesn't sound drunk and stupid, her lips still torn to pieces but her voice solid at least. She tries to sit up, pushes her palm into the smooth metal of the table and swings her legs over the side. She still feels lightheaded but her vision doesn't swim this time. "You woke me up, dumbfuck."

He doesn't move, his attention still focused on the welding and Vriska thinks of how easy it would be to scoop up one of the jagged scraps of metal on the floor and simply stab him in the back. So simple. No more owed favors. But no arm either.

"My apologies," he says, not looking up and she grinds her teeth together as he keeps ignoring her.

"You can't do that somewhere else? You probably have other rooms."

He looks back over a shoulder with his face shaded dark with frustration, his mouth in a furious curve as he growls, "You make endless demands for someone in such a vulnerable position."

Whoa. Bad mood.

He actually sounds like he's got plans to hurt something and it's the first time she's heard any kind of murderous tilt to his voice. It's a bit shocking. The muscles in his back are knotted, tense and angry, and his arms are stiff and ready for pain, his fingers clamped like vicegrips over that welding torch. Holding it like it's a weapon. And Vriska's seen him destroy a lot of things, robots and inanimate objects pulled apart that the seams, but she's never seen his scary violent strength wrapped around a weapon before. A weapon the uncivilized fury in his eyes obviously has intent to use on another troll.

On Vriska.

Equius? Dangerous? It sends a chill down her spine and how had she never seen that coming?

The torch glows hot and he turns toward her, his mouth pulled into a snarl, and for a wide-eyed second all Vriska can imagine is that fire lancing into her belly and burning her black inside.

"I am serving you. I am serving you and that is all backward," he snaps, spitting with rage. "You should be begging me to heal you and instead all you do is moan and complain and ask for things! Do you realize how many rules we are breaking with this arrangement? How we are entirely disregarding the culling laws? I should crush your skull with my bare hands!"

"Then why don't you?" she snaps back, still perched on the edge of the table. Her own limbs are tensed, ready to throw herself away from him if he lunges at her with that torch, and despite the venom in her words she feels panic rising in her throat.

"I am not sure," he murmurs, his voice suddenly quiet and dangerous. His eyes are dark and angry, barely visible above his glasses. The torch spits blue sparks at the floor, sizzling and burning, and Vriska twitches her toes back away from it.

"Don't touch me," she hisses, her voice level and dripping threat. Because she'd love to gut him and leave; one less favor she owes, one more body for her lusus' endless fire. She'd love that, but she still feels lightheaded, still feels the tingling in her fingertips and toes from the bloodloss, and she doesn't trust her body to do that yet. Not just yet. Instead she slips to stand on the floor, bending in one smooth motion and scooping up the jagged piece of metal lying at her feet. Maybe she'll get to use it after all.

She holds the scrap dagger toward him, her own back to the table and her legs bent, ready to move. Her head is throbbing but she can run at least. She can get out if she tries and Vriska will always try (always).

Equius looms there watching her and she knows he can see the fear on her face. She's too transparent right now to hide it well, still injured hurt like this. He doesn't move though, and Vriska holds her ground, and the standoff drags out silent and long before he turns on his heel, his jaw still set with anger, and goes back to work.

"You're turning your back on me after that? What, are you the stupidest troll ever?"

"We are not the same," he snaps, not turning around, the torch hefted and held back to the robotic arm he's crafting. It stinks of ozone again.

"Noooooooo, not the same at all. No backstabbing murder plots in here, nevermind that you almost just attacked me!"

"But I did not!" His hand smashes down on the tabletop, sparks shooting everywhere. "That is how we are different. I can control myself whereas you are entirely unrestrained!"

"What?! You think I did this to myself on purpose? That almost bleeding out and almost being lusus lunch is how I get my kicks? Sorry to disappoint you, dumbass, but this accident was pretty much completely not my fault!"

"Shut up!" he snaps, and the words kick Vriska with surprise because that's harsh language for Equius. "Just shut up. You are not making this easy for me."

She can hear the shame dripping from those words, and maybe a bit of guilt too. It shocks her again. Vriska isn't used to that kind of emotional honesty. She's used to scathing banter and thinly veiled threats, and Equius being candid and genuine to her without fearing what she'll use that display of weakness for later catches her off guard. Someone who actually trusts her that much? She wants to laugh in his face at how stupid that is, but it's more than even her close friends give her, and the truth in that stings.

Something in her deflates and she drops the obnoxious banter and actually asks him something plainly for once. "Making what easy?"

"Caring for you like this," he says quietly. He must notice the change in tone because he sits back, his shoulders relaxing as he tips his jaw to stare at the wall. "You are a fellow blueblood and I wish to help you, but you also know what it's like to be a blueblood. The instinct to backstab, to thin the herd, is exquisitely powerful."

"So why put up with it?" If their positions had been reversed she would have ended him without hesitation.

He sets the still smoldering torch aside on the table. He spreads his hands in front of himself, staring at his gloved palms, and even from across the room Vriska notices how tired he looks. "It's easy to destroy."

He's not exactly gentle with things. His robots are smashed and snapped to bits by his own hands. She's seen him take out entire walls before just by leaning against them, and the table in front of him is dented where he'd slammed his fist into it. Vriska has laughed at him for it many times. She's teased him mercilessly that he would be such an amazing warrior if he'd just get over his stupid blood hierarchy and let loose for a while. Breaking heads would be nothing for him. He'd bathe in the blood without out even trying and what high troll empress wouldn't love that?

Wouldn't that just be the perfect way to fit into his beloved rainbow aristocracy?

But he says, "I'm tired of destroying things," instead, and that's so backward it's like troll society blasphemy coming out of someone with beliefs like Equius has. He turns and looks at Vriska standing there leaning against the table with only one arm. The girl he's helping even though he shouldn't. "If just this once I can create something that will truly last, something that will help someone instead of hurting, I am happy to embrace that."

It sounds like a stupid reason but the way he says it, his voice full of sad frustrated exhaustion like he's a prisoner trapped in a box and this is the crack in the wall, the tiny slice of the world he can see beyond—and for some reason that punches Vriska in the heart.

Destruction is what trolls do and being weak is worthless. Vriska has fought tooth and nail to get where she is, to her fifth sweep still alive, not lusus food and her own lusus still kicking. She is fearless and she can do anything. But even though she'd never say it, Vriska does feel weak sometimes; when her lusus needs food and she's too tired to play a FLARP campaign without wounding herself, when she stumbles back bleeding and sick and it's all she can do to drag herself to her recuperacoon and not collapse on the floor for the minions to find her. Sometimes feeding her lusus feels like drowning and the small times she spends away, laughing with Kanaya (and Terezi and Aradia before it all went to hell), help buoy her up.

As much as it feels like she should laugh at him, laugh at how ridiculous wanting to be weak is, she doesn't. Because she knows that sometimes being strong is what's hard, impossibly heartbreakingly hard. So instead she drops the shard of metal and sits back on the table, saying nothing and finally eating her food.

---

The arm is a work of art. It's finer than the arms he grafts to his robots, this circuitry more complex and elegant. The fingertips transmit the slightest touch. The joints are delicate but durable, articulate and in near-perfect likeness of her own missing arm. It twitches to life and he smiles. She's silent when he asks her to sit up, to pull aside the tattered shoulder of her shirt so he can splice the metal into her healing flesh—so it can be her own.

It works. They run it through some tests but it works perfectly, responding readily to the pulses of her nervous system. Vriska flexes the arm, grinning, and she punches him in the shoulder so hard that he feels it, that it stings even his STRONG unfeeling flesh. As uncivilized as that gesture is, Equius can't help but be a little grateful to her for that. She's not afraid to touch him and with that arm he can't break her, and that isn't something he experiences with most people.

She's more or less healed. When she stands the vertigo doesn't plague her. She takes confidents steps over his workroom floor, stepping out into the hallway with Equius on her heels. She looks ecstatic to be back in working order again, to be able to trust herself and move under her own power, and Equius is a bit envious of her for that. For that trust in her own body. He walks her to the door.

"Thanks," she says, hesitating in his doorway and turning back, and her voice has that strange honest color to it.

Aurthour is hovering behind him, more than ready for this intruder to leave their home, but Equius nods to her, ever polite. "Of course."

"You ever figure out something that isn't creepy for me to repay that favor with, just yell across the chasm."

He raises an eyebrow because that wasn't exactly how he had tallied up the favors. "Only one favor?"

"Only one. I already let the arm thing slide since you needed something nice to do so baaaaaaaadly." Vriska grins, all fangs and cleverness. "I really am so nice, aren't I? I have all the niceness, all of it!"

Equius watches her for a moment and honestly he's not surprised. A blueblood is a blueblood after all, and he had always expected her to try to spin her way out of it. But he doesn't feel cheated this time. He actually got what he wanted and that's different. That's nearly considerate, coming from Vriska. So he smiles and he nods, and he says, "Deal."

THIS TOO WAS FANTASTIC. Your characterization in particular is very solid; I really like how you managed to remain faithful to character in a situation where others might have been willing to bend a little. Having Vriska be as magnificently bitchy as ever was just great. The analysis of Equius' motivations is awesome too, especially through the lens of troll culture -- another thing that was very well handled. And style, of course, remained as lovely as it was in the first. Very nice job.

also, why thank you (:

Did someone say incredibly depressing? I MAY HAVE JUST THE THING FOR YOU. (Mom/Dad, very short, basically a response to the latest update)

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The rising wind blows cool and dry over the battlefield, carrying with it the scent of distant streams and valleys, and her heart stirs a little with longing for the places she will never see.

"He must be a very talented boy. This is quite some weather," she says, her hair whipping in the breeze like pale leaves. He nods slightly, deep creases of pride forming at the corners of his mouth.

The glasses of wine and cups of tea are shaking, tinkling like windchimes that tremble, amber and pale gold and red, red, red. She is drunk enough that the world seems pleasantly liquid, but not enough that the sticky claret stains on the tablecloth aren't troubling.

"We did right by them," he says.

"Easy for you to say," she says.

She doesn't want to die here, in this smooth anaemic place, all grey earth and sunless light. It has not been easy to live with the knowledge that she will witness the end of the old universe and perish before the new can rise. It has not been pleasant to know the intimate details of the game code whose execution will destroy her. It has been almost unbearable to know that Rose will face unimaginable struggles alone.

They have all learnt to live with the knowledge, dealing with it the way everyone does. Wine, love, distractions. Strider with his insane heroic bravado.

But sometimes fate is kind. Now she knows that her daughter will have her friends at her side, and she herself will face death in good company.

"It's time," she says, and they stand, holding hands.

aslkdjfsdkfj kassie oh no oh nooo ;; I love this. My favourite thing would have to be... the way that it highlights the guardians' part in and knowledge of the game, if that makes sense. And in all honesty, reading this makes me feel more 0kay with this update. Kudos~

[Megafire]

Chalk
I kill a turtle

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There are many creationism legends on Discworld. some say it has always been. The priests of Om belive that he created the heavens, the planet, everything in seven days. Most think that the Gods created the landscape slowly. Still others think that the universe was created by a fat old man with a silly accent, sitting at home on a strange device, attempting to write a storybook.

These are all hopelessly wrong.

But the creation of the universe doesn'ty matter. What does matter was that the Great Atuin, the mammoth turtle that held four elephants that held Discworld on their backs, was dying. It was dying, not due to old age, not due to some long forgotten evil, not due to the folly of man nor dwarf. No, the Great Atuin was dying because the Great Atuin was swimming through his Mother-in-law's territory, and she was quite litterally talking him to death.

"I don't know WHY you won't get a job, it can't be that hard you're a space-faring turtle! If that doesn't at least land you a place at the local fast food place I don't know what will. And what's that on your back-"

"Oh my lord will you please SHUT UP?"

"- And is that a planet on there? That's horrible you need to let those poor people down and let them have a normal life with a normal, round planet I mean look at it it's squashed flat. Those poor dears, and those poor elephants too they can't possibly be holding up well with that lump of rock on their backs, tell me you give them health insurance-"

And though it seemed like this was always going to happen, it was meant to happen, and if you thought that it would even be true, the real reason was a game. A game played by the worst wizard ever to set foot on Discworld, a strange Tourist, a young Witch, and one captain of the Guard.

And it would be great fun.

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Yeah so who didn't see this coming?

Carrot, Rincewind, Twoflower and Tiffany Aching. Playing Sburb.

This is the best thing to happen ever in the history of everything.

Absolutely agreed.

[Rimbaum]

...

Third time? :O Color me intrigued right off the bat!

Basically my goal in life is to catch the attention and praise of you, Jim, and emesis, who are like my favourite Problem Sleuth fans. I know I'm doing it right if you guys like it. PRAISE METER: 1/3 APPROVALS GAINED

Jim and emesis I get. But why ME? O.o;

[lucidSeraph]

@Sionnan: Oh god dad ;_; *picks up and hugs*


Man, I really want to write some more of my own Purple!Dave (tortileGhostwriter) but fuck if I don't know where Rose is in canon, which makes it KIND OF HARD to figure out what a purple dave is doing :\

[Isoraqathedh]

Integration · Troll
Chapter 1 Section [1] [2] [3] [4] [4a] [4b] [5] [6] [7] [7a]
Chapter 2 Section [8] [9] [10] [10a] [11] [...]

Triple Index No. 1.15.99$001.006 // No. 4.13.07$006 // No. 2.98.04$006
Integration · Troll rev. 2.0: 6 // 45/F: Atacama Laboratory

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This is a preposterously tall laboratory. It was obviously never meant to be sent anywhere. While this is probably the average height for your average apartment block, this is probably not meant to be one at any time. Especially when there are floors that contain nothing but thousands upon thousands of crates.

She saw the stairs but cleverly chose not to go down through that, even if it was faster than anything else. Instead, she chose to use the elevator. A small plaque above it read:

Fireman’s Lift: 40/F ~ 45/F. In case of fire do not use the elevator.

Terezi pushed the down button. It was nightmarishly slow and is semi-open (and strangely labeled “scenic elevator – what, you think that there’s anything to see out there? (13)) She contacted Karkat again.

Handle Action Message

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GC : H3Y K4RKL3S!
CG : SO YOU FINALLY CAME BACK.
CG : WHERE THE |BEEP| (14) ARE YOU.
GC : ON TH3 FORTY-F1FTH FLOOR, S1LLY >:]
GC : DO YOU R34LLY TH1NK TH4T 1 C4N W4LK TH4T F4ST?
GC : 3V3N MY B3ST S3NS3 OF SM3LL C4NNOT ALLOW M3 TO MOVE TOO F4ST >:[
CG : YEAH WHATEVER.
CG : ANYWAY, IF YOU WILL,
CG : IT’S GETTING AWFULLY LONELY HERE,
CG : SO HURRY AND GET YOUR |BEEP| DOWN TO THE TWENTY-SECOND, WILL YOU?
GC : SUUUURR3, K4RK4T!
GC : JUST ON3 TH1NG, THOUGH,
GC : 4R3 YOU 4LONE?
CG : I’M NOT ALONE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
CG : BUT OLD SOLLUX IS NOT TALKING TO ME.
GC : F1N3 TH3N. 1LL B3 DOWN TH3R3 SOON.

And with that, she moved off to the next elevator, the one that will bring her down to the thirtieth. (15)

Footnotes:

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(13) Granted, that is an excellent place to dispose of impudent dragons, but still…
(14) I seriously cannot bring myself to swear.
(15) The lifts here break off every ten floors to preserve structural integrity. Or jeopardize it, I can’t remember which.

[Path]

Also, Jim, as I'm rereading Problem Sleuth, I have found a line that must be included sometime.

"It has a funny taste. You can't put your finger on it, but if you had to describe it you would say it has the flavor of INTENSE PAIN."

Possibly after PS takes another beating.

Yeah because that's really likely. Ahahahaha that guy collects beatings like Pickle Inspector collects stamps. (Non-canonical, but you know he does)

...

Third time? :O Color me intrigued right off the bat!

Basically my goal in life is to catch the attention and praise of you, Jim, and emesis, who are like my favourite Problem Sleuth fans. I know I'm doing it right if you guys like it. PRAISE METER: 1/3 APPROVALS GAINED

Jim and emesis I get. But why ME? O.o;

DON'T ASK QUESTIONS! TAKE COMPLIMENT AND GO!

[draconicAlgorithm]

... Yeah, this is pretty much crack. Inspired by a conversation on Deviantart.

The Demon

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The end was nigh. They hadn't made it in time, hadn't finished their preparations quickly enough to be able to escape. Death drew near, and though the trolls knew it, they could do little else but fight on.

For the Demon was here.

"Alright, you fuckasses!" Karkat yelled, attempting to sound confident even though everyone heard his voice wavering. "This is it! It's do or die, and we sure as hell ain't gonna die! Not if I can fucking help it!"

"You've inthtilled thuch faith in me, KK. I'm thure we'll make it through now," Sollux said sarcastically. Karkat promptly ignored him.

"You all know what you're supposed to do! So put on your fucking headsets and do it!" As everyone nodded or somehow showed they understood, Karkat double checked to make sure that everyone did, indeed, have their headsets. They were the only way they could communicate. Good. Everything was as in order as they could possibly make it.

He watched them go. Even with all these preparations, even with everything he'd done, Karkat had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was the last time he'd see any of them.

"... Alright," he said finally, turning to Terezi, the last troll left in the lab. "Let's go."

"Aye, aye, captain Karkles!" She gave him a mock salute and grinned. He yelled at her as they descended down the hall, but his heart wasn't in it. Neither of theirs were.

The first line of defense was Equius, Nepeta, and Gamzee. Aradia had been able to go forward enough in time to tell them where the demon would enter the lab, but nothing else. The three of them were deployed to that area. They were the best equipped to tackle it as a team, and the most likely to be able to beat it, what with Equius's strength, Nepeta's claws, and Gamzee's unawakened rage powers.

When they saw it, they knew there was no hope.

Equius fell first, his blue blood spraying before he could react. Nepeta lost it when her moirail died and lunged, but she was no match either. Her claws snapped, and she died before she could even make a scratch. Gamzee was too sopored up to realize what was going on until it was too late. A juggling pin rolled from his lifeless hand as the demon moved on to the next obstacle.

Vriska and Eridan lay waiting next.

The two made a surprisingly good team. Vriska was able to steal her opponents luck, enabling Eridan to get in a shot with his wand. Insta-kill. If only it had worked that way. As it turned out, no amount of luck mattered when your opponent was infinitely more powerful than you.

Vriska died while grabbing for her dice. She just wasn't quick enough. Eridan, terrified and spattered with his partner's blood, tried to bring up his wand to blast it, but the demon had already broken it in half. For a fleeting moment, he knew the meaning of true terror, and then it was all over.

All that was left was their bodies and the footprints of blue and purple blood.

Aradia and Sollux were the third obstacle. It was a hope that if sheer strength could not bring them through, perhaps psychic power could. As soon as they heard the footsteps of the demon echoing down the metal hall, Sollux took a bite of mind honey and slid his glasses off his face.

They both blasted the spot where the demon appeared, giving everything they had and then some. The walls were scorched and ripped open, the floor buckled under the sheer amount of energy. Nothing could survive that. Nothing.

The demon walked through it unscathed.

The twin beams of blue and red were cut off when the demon attacked Sollux, scattering mustard-colored blood. He didn't die instantly, however, and he was able to watch as Aradia's robot head was smashed in a fountain of sparks and blue blood.

After the first three groups failed, it was pretty much assumed that the demon was going to kill everyone. The rest still tried, but it was no contest. The trio that was Kanaya, Feferi, and Tavros just didn't stand a chance. They were cut down before they knew what was happening. However, Tavros still managed to get one final message to Karkat through their headsets.

"I, uhhh, think we lost this one, Karkat." Then silence.

Karkat stared numbly at the computer screen after listening to that message. He and Terezi had managed to contact all the humans in their most recent timeline from their perspective and explain what had happened. It was official. There was no hope.

As he heard the clacking of footsteps proceeding down the hall, he sent one final message.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB] --

CG: SORRY JOHN
CG: THE DEMON IS HERE
CG: GOOD BYE

He heard a gasp from Terezi and whirled around. For a long moment, he was very confused.

This... this wasn't the demon. This wasn't Jack. What was going on?

The creature in the doorway looked much like a musclebeast. Karkat gathered that, more appropriately, it was what humans called a horse. Its fur was white, and on its flank was a single pink heart. Tied into its mane was a matching bow. It stared at them with a look that was almost docile, but Karkat knew this had to be it. Its hooves and legs were stained with the blood of his friends.

"What the hell are you?" He growled. The horse looked at him for a moment with a dumb, uncomprehending stare, and then a grin formed on its equine face. A grin so murderous it made Karkat's skin crawl.

A minute later, his head was pounded into the floor, and Terezi was quick to follow.

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Maplehoof is positively terrifying.

That's really all that needs to be said on the matter.

[SeptimusMagistos]

Chapter 15: The Final Showdown

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How does one prepare to fight an omnipotent entity?

One begins with a philosophy session. Certain factions within the troll-human alliance insisted on examining the word ‘omni’ in very close detail. The general consensus was that it would be basically comparable to the word ‘uni’ as in ‘universe’ in a way that would suggest it was not quite as all-encompassing within paradox space as outside it.

But that part had been done a while ago, before the Subcommittee on First Guardians and the Subcommittee of Semantic Linguistics had been suspended along with the rest.

Secondly, one could collect equipment. Ensure that everyone had the proper fraymotifs and all the scattered weaponry was taken out of chests and painstakingly extracted from Gamzee’s crazy modus and properly deployed. Spend most of the remaining grist alchemizing magic wands, proton cannons, power suits, and plentiful supplies of enchanted chalk. Practice with newly discovered abilities. That sort of thing.

That was done shortly before and after the final grand memo. The part after was done in total, eerie silence as no-one wanted to spoil the mood created by their last words.

Thirdly, one could acquire a secret weapon and hide it beyond even a First Guardian’s sight. And this too was done, through a series of agents who didn’t know just what they were doing, why they were doing it, or what part it would all play in their eventual masterstroke.

Once that was all finished, there was little left to do except bait the trap.

Connecting the sessions was difficult enough. The paradox space was, in its own way, kind of touchy about the fact that every possible session was technically happening somewhere at the same time. But being in a different timeline made things a little easier. They were off in an area scheduled for demolition. It was just taking a while.

Somewhere, Kanaya lifted a frog made of gold and crystal spheres and allowed it to stare into infinity; and somewhere else Jade lifted hers. And then those two places were the same place of sorts - or at least allowed a passage to be formed. It was entirely possible for the trolls to step through it and perhaps gain entrance to the universe formed by those born into the universe they themselves had created. It would be a new beginning of sorts.

Except that there weren’t supposed to be beginnings in this place. Only endings. And someone in charge of making sure things went the way they were supposed to was here too, blazing with green lightning so thick it nearly obscured his flawlessly white complexion.

My patience is at an end. I hate to be so inelegant, but the time has come to end this.

Perhaps he expected a verbal response. He got none; only a barrage of white magic, missiles, immaterial projectiles, and particle beams. The suddenness and savagery of the attack staggered even Doc Scratch as he struggled to form his cosmic energies into a shield that could withstand so many different things at once while not hiding the battlefield from his perception. By the time he was finished, his costume was ruffled and even his head was scratched, bleeding pure energy.

A pointless gesture.

CG: SECOND WAVE! GO GO GO!

The second wave went. The psychics opened up. Tavros and Vriska assaulted the First Guardian’s consciousness, flooding it with images and commands. Sollux lashed out with the pain of his mutations. Eridan raised one of the additional wands he’d procured to scream out pure psychic noise of the brain-exploding variety. Those devoid of such abilities compensated by doing whatever they could to assault their opponent’s other senses, be it with flashing light, sound so loud it could be heard from space, or odors that smelled just like the brightest shades of rainbow’s colors.

That bought them several more seconds. It gave Doc Scratch a reasonably strong headache. It did not, however, come close to destroying him. And it made him mad enough to launch a counterattack.

A ribbon of green lightning moving faster than light and with enough punch behind it to pierce a dozen trolls if necessary. Far too powerful to be slowed down by an invisible wall, no matter how finely its creator envisioned it. Too powerful to be stopped with an energy blast of an orange shade. Perhaps even too powerful to be stopped by white magic.

But white and black magics acting in tandem tend to bring out some wonderful synergies.

CG: THIRD WAVE, MAKE YOURSELVES USEFUL ALREADY!

The arrival of the kids meant that the first of the counterattacks was stopped. It made Doc Scratch realize that he had overlooked a variable in this combat. But it also made him believe that the kids themselves were that variable when in reality he should have been looking a little closer to home.

Perhaps right behind him.

The strange sensation of a kind of slow time crept over the First Guardian. Realizing the nature of the effect, he fought it. It is difficult enough for an ordinary player to fight a power of such magnitude. Aradia’s timestop did not hold for more than half a minute.

It expired a second before a redoubled assault with all the firepower it was possible to master hit Doc Scratch.

There are things a First Guardian, particularly one who is good at their job, is not used to. One is being wrong; another is being manipulated; yet another is feeling pain. For this particular First Guardian, all three were coming together in a particularly unpleasant fashion. Whatever self-control he’d regained after reconstituting his writing device was long since gone.

AA: if i can d0 that again we will win

The response to that sentence was swift and brutal. A slicing motion and an attack which was not even green so much as the color of pure emptiness, slicing through the spatial fabric and revealing strange stars underneath.

There was a very long moment.

His senses clear for a second, Doc Scratch could once again feel everything. The smell of sparks coming from Aradia’s body, cut into halves as it was. The look of horror on Equius’s face, expanding slowly, nanosecond by nanosecond. The weapons, being readied for a retributive strike; demanding his attention. All of it very convincing. In its own way, all of it completely real.

Until the end of the moment, which coincided with the instant of his spatial slice tearing through the center of Derse.

The robot body exploded, but it didn’t matter; by now it was only an empty shell anyway. And in any case, the grandeur of the explosion of mere circuitry was easily eclipsed by the explosion of power and light beyond it, as a new god entered the Medium.

Or, shall we say, a goddess.

AA: initiate plan epil0gue!

And then Aradia was gone.

She had a lot of work to do, making herself quietly responsible for every event and effort within the doomed session.

She went back to suggest the idea of a committee to Kanaya, delivering it anonymously. Then, at the right moment, she inserted herself into the Subcommittee of Time, guiding the two versions of Dave and her own past self in an effort to become the center of true power, dispensing predestination-flavored interventions at precisely the right times.

She ensured that the psychically resistant helmets were successfully created and that one went to Tavros, ensuring that John would not ascent to god tiers.

She gave Gamzee a message to pass to Equius, helping the latter to discover his hidden power at exactly the right moment.

She got her hands on a critical object from the human session and ensured it would be transported to exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

And, after doing many other little chores, she came to the last item on her checklist: deploy the Fourth Wave.

The Fourth Wave, naturally, consisted of a god-tiered Aradia riding Bec through time and space and back into the exact moment she left.

Aradia paused exactly long enough to receive a power-up courtesy of Rose and Eridan. The two worked in perfect tandem, guided not by teamwork or mutual admiration, but by the powers of magic/science itself. Whatever force ultimately powered their efforts, it was not exactly part of the game, and if it had goals, they did not necessarily align with either those of paradox space or those of the First Guardians. But whatever ambitions the force might ultimately hold, for the moment it contended itself with providing Aradia with the extra oomph she needed and a splendid light show to boot.

There were two First Guardians on the field now. Theoretically, they were equal in power. But one of them had already taken some punishment - more than he would have allowed himself if he’d known the kind of fight this would be. And the other was aided by magic and time itself. Even if both could move anywhere instantly, Bec could do it just a little bit faster than even that. No matter where Doc Scratch tried to move, Bec was already there, waiting for him with a bite.

Really, at this point the battle should have been all but over. The players held the advantage, both in terms of power and preparation. They could have whittled their enemy down until he was nothing but cosmic dust. Perhaps they would have, had they not, in their excitement, overlooked one very important detail:

They were all doomed.

They were reminded of that fact when Doc Scratch exploded the spatial anomaly that was their gate between the universes.

Bec moved to intercept, ignoring Aradia’s commands - which would not have differed from that in any case. Moving the kids and trolls out of the way, Bec spent a little time as a spatial anomaly himself - and when the wave hit him, he simply disappeared, leaving behind only cosmic dust.

This ends now.

AA: yes i guess it d0es
AA: i really thought we w0uld be g0ne by n0w

Doc Scratch turned around, beholding the manner of his demise.

If one needs to get something through Paradox space quickly, the best way is usually through the use of a Scratch or the services of a First Guardian, or perhaps a god-tiered Space player. If one needs something moved slowly, however, there are few better ways to go than a Horrorterror relay. Of course, getting them to cooperate properly can be difficult - but the combined efforts of a recognized ally with a lifetime’s experience in dealing with them and a powerful psychic with great empathy are just about enough, even if the object that needs to be moved is very large, unwieldy, and dangerous.

The last Horrorterror in the relay had thrown its load to its final destination and was now fleeing the stretch of space all the others had fled, as quickly as possible. It knew it had to get away or be destroyed.

The Tumor had only a few seconds left on its timer, after all.

AA: I supp0se my timing was a little bit 0ff

Well, perhaps we can get back to the main plot now.

And then the universe exploded.

THE END

A/N

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Oviously, this was a very important chapter, and I tried something new with the stylized action. It would help if someone mentioned whether it was clear what was happening at all times or if I need to tweak it to make things more obvious.