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

[IrateRapScallion]

Hello, everybody! I was wondering if people here were open to suggestions/requests for topics. I've had a few ideas that intrigued me but my job's crazy hours and my poor writing skills have basically prevented me from doing anything with them, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

[ceruleanTresses]

@Irate: I'm not much good at proper stories, but I'm always open to songfic suggestions. If there's a song you'd like to see rewritten to be about Homestuck, let me know and I'll see if I can do anything with it.

[Jim Groovester]

Ancestor Mindfang fic.

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Marquise Mindfang sits at the desk in her cabin writing a provocative letter to Orphaner Dualscar. Her ship rocks back and forth as her quillspine pen flits across parchment paper.

...your inadequacy is only matched 8y the confidence you have in your plans. Your latest three shipments, despite their increasing measures of security, have 8een plundered and sent to feed Her Imperial Condescension’s darkest secret. Will you try a fourth? I can only imagine your frustration at 8eing so out-

Strange. Mindfang examines the paper. There was ink on the paper that she hadn’t wrote, and if it wasn’t for the glint of the moons she wouldn’t have caught it. She holds it up to the window, reflecting light onto the mysterious ink. It is text written in a white ink, but in rigid and precise lettering.

Marquise Mindfang.

Mindfang does not remember writing this. More words appear in the white ink letter by letter.

Your memory is correct. I am contacting you right now.

Mindfang picks up her pen.

Who are you?

My name is irrelevant. But I will pay you a courtesy, and in return you will pay me the same. I am called Doc Scratch.

How are you doing this?

The means of my communication is as irrelevant as my name. You have come across enough oddities in your travels that the fact I am remotely writing on your letter should not be as surprising as you seem to think it is.

Very well. If you are communicating with me you did so for a reason. I would know what it is.

I have a task for you.

A task? You are presumptuous to think I would perform a task for you in exchange for learning your name.

Presumption is neither a required nor desirable quality in an omniscient being. In any case, you will find this task pleasant.

I dis8elieve you, 8ut I am nonetheless curious. I do not agree to your task yet, 8ut I am willing to hear what you have to say.

Look behind you.

Marquise Mindfang turns around in her chair. She sees nothing, except the bright flash of green illuminating the room. The source is her desk. She turns back, and there is a volume resting on her desk. It bears her sign.

What is this?

Your task is simple. Use this as your journal. Make an account of your journeys.

Mindfang flips through the pages. They are all empty.

I do not understand.

Understanding is not a requirement for complicity.

Then I refuse. I will not perform a task I do not understand.

Marquise Mindfang, you have an auspicious future ahead of you. You will become a legendary seagrift like none other. Any sea you lay claim to will be yours. You will have rivalry with your choice of the most powerful leaders of the Alternian Empire. You will grow rich beyond your capability to imagine. You will, however, face a problem.

And what pro8lem is that?

Legacy.

Hardly. If what you say is true, and I know that it is, I will have a legacy compara8le to none. I will 8e writ in texts as the gr8test scourge to have ever plagued the waters of this planet.

After your death all mention of you will be purposefully removed as a final insult.

Lies.

I do not lie. I have no need for the act.

Mindfang puts the pen to the page. She does not know why but she believes the man.

Then I will die knowing that I was the most fearsome seagrift to ever live. That will 8e enough.

A proud attitude more than worthy of your species. However, I have provided you the means to your legacy. All you need to do is write. You will not refuse. I already know this. I know that your fear of being forgotten, the horror that all your effort and manipulation in a few sweeps time after your death will all be for naught, will motivate you to put pen to those pages.

Mindfang stares at the words for a moment, unable to write.

You are right. 8ut I still do not understand. Why are you asking me to do this?

You will have a descendant.

A descendant? The white text continues.

She will have your vision eightfold, your power to manipulate, your lusus, your blood. In every way, she will be like you. But, she will surpass you. Where you have killed hundreds to feed your lusus, she will kill thousands. Where you will be rival to princes, she will dominate them. Where you kill to survive, she will kill for a game. Where you will be destroyed by justice, she will have revenge. Where you will die and be forgotten, she will die and become a god. She will do this all by her sixth sweep.

Mindfang is surprised. A descendant more than worthy of me.

Indeed.

The text pauses.

She will do none of this without your example. She will emulate you, take your name, even. Without you to look up to, she will lack the confidence to do what she needs, to do what will turn her great. Without you, she will be nothing. And this will be your legacy. You will live on as the inspiration to one of the most important trolls that will ever live. I trust you are convinced now.

Mindfang leans back from the letter. Blue teardrops stain the page that weren’t there moments ago. She wipes her eyes and puts the pen back down.

Yes, more than convinced. Will I ever meet her?

In a sense, you already have.

More riddles. Do you always talk in them?

You will not encounter her again in your lifetime. She will be hatched centuries from now.

Very well. I will perform your task, with a zeal I have applied to nothing 8efore.

I know. Goodbye, Marquise Mindfang.

Mindfang looks at the letter. The white text is finished, it seems. Mindfang picks up the volume. It’s quite massive. She smiles. She takes comfort in knowing she will live life so fully she will fill many of these pages. Perhaps even all the pages. All of them. She turns the cover and puts the pen down.

This is the journal of Marquise Spinnaret Mindfang. It will be a daily record of my travels and adventures as a seagrift. I will document to the 8est of my considera8le a8ility every detail of my life. Let this serve as my history and a guide to whoever may find this journal.

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Since Doc Scratch has a hand in turning the trolls into who they are, it wouldn't surprise me if Doc Scratch has a hand in turning the ancestors into who they are, who will, in turn, turn the trolls into who they are.

Doc Scratch is probably far more talkative then he should be, and he probably wouldn't provide Mindfang with the journal, but whatever. I like it better this way.

I am never doing anything with color tags again.

[Sionnan]

Hello, everybody! I was wondering if people here were open to suggestions/requests for topics. I've had a few ideas that intrigued me but my job's crazy hours and my poor writing skills have basically prevented me from doing anything with them, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

I'm definitely open to suggestions. It always lets me try out something new.

[Embargo]

Ancestor Mindfang fic.

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Marquise Mindfang sits at the desk in her cabin writing a provocative letter to Orphaner Dualscar. Her ship rocks back and forth as her quillspine pen flits across parchment paper.

...your inadequacy is only matched 8y the confidence you have in your plans. Your latest three shipments, despite their increasing measures of security, have 8een plundered and sent to feed Her Imperial Condescension’s darkest secret. Will you try a fourth? I can only imagine your frustration at 8eing so out-

Strange. Mindfang examines the paper. There was ink on the paper that she hadn’t wrote, and if it wasn’t for the glint of the moons she wouldn’t have caught it. She holds it up to the window, reflecting light onto the mysterious ink. It is text written in a white ink, but in rigid and precise lettering.

Marquise Mindfang.

Mindfang does not remember writing this. More words appear in the white ink letter by letter.

Your memory is correct. I am contacting you right now.

Mindfang picks up her pen.

Who are you?

My name is irrelevant. But I will pay you a courtesy, and in return you will pay me the same. I am called Doc Scratch.

How are you doing this?

The means of my communication is as irrelevant as my name. You have come across enough oddities in your travels that the fact I am remotely writing on your letter should not be as surprising as you seem to think it is.

Very well. If you are communicating with me you did so for a reason. I would know what it is.

I have a task for you.

A task? You are presumptuous to think I would perform a task for you in exchange for learning your name.

Presumption is neither a required nor desirable quality in an omniscient being. In any case, you will find this task pleasant.

I dis8elieve you, 8ut I am nonetheless curious. I do not agree to your task yet, 8ut I am willing to hear what you have to say.

Look behind you.

Marquise Mindfang turns around in her chair. She sees nothing, except the bright flash of green illuminating the room. The source is her desk. She turns back, and there is a volume resting on her desk. It bears her sign.

What is this?

Your task is simple. Use this as your journal. Make an account of your journeys.

Mindfang flips through the pages. They are all empty.

I do not understand.

Understanding is not a requirement for complicity.

Then I refuse. I will not perform a task I do not understand.

Marquise Mindfang, you have an auspicious future ahead of you. You will become a legendary seagrift like none other. Any sea you lay claim to will be yours. You will have rivalry with your choice of the most powerful leaders of the Alternian Empire. You will grow rich beyond your capability to imagine. You will, however, face a problem.

And what pro8lem is that?

Legacy.

Hardly. If what you say is true, and I know that it is, I will have a legacy compara8le to none. I will 8e writ in texts as the gr8test scourge to have ever plagued the waters of this planet.

After your death all mention of you will be purposefully removed as a final insult.

Lies.

I do not lie. I have no need for the act.

Mindfang puts the pen to the page. She does not know why but she believes the man.

Then I will die knowing that I was the most fearsome seagrift to ever live. That will 8e enough.

A proud attitude more than worthy of your species. However, I have provided you the means to your legacy. All you need to do is write. You will not refuse. I already know this. I know that your fear of being forgotten, the horror that all your effort and manipulation in a few sweeps time after your death will all be for naught, will motivate you to put pen to those pages.

Mindfang stares at the words for a moment, unable to write.

You are right. 8ut I still do not understand. Why are you asking me to do this?

You will have a descendant.

A descendant? The white text continues.

She will have your vision eightfold, your power to manipulate, your lusus, your blood. In every way, she will be like you. But, she will surpass you. Where you have killed hundreds to feed your lusus, she will kill thousands. Where you will be rival to princes, she will dominate them. Where you kill to survive, she will kill for a game. Where you will be destroyed by justice, she will have revenge. Where you will die and be forgotten, she will die and become a god. She will do this all by her sixth sweep.

Mindfang is surprised. A descendant more than worthy of me.

Indeed.

The text pauses.

She will do none of this without your example. She will emulate you, take your name, even. Without you to look up to, she will lack the confidence to do what she needs, to do what will turn her great. Without you, she will be nothing. And this will be your legacy. You will live on as the inspiration to one of the most important trolls that will ever live. I trust you are convinced now.

Mindfang leans back from the letter. Blue teardrops stain the page that weren’t there moments ago. She wipes her eyes and puts the pen back down.

Yes, more than convinced. Will I ever meet her?

In a sense, you already have.

More riddles. Do you always talk in them?

You will not encounter her again in your lifetime. She will be hatched centuries from now.

Very well. I will perform your task, with a zeal I have applied to nothing 8efore.

I know. Goodbye, Marquise Mindfang.

Mindfang looks at the letter. The white text is finished, it seems. Mindfang picks up the volume. It’s quite massive. She smiles. She takes comfort in knowing she will live life so fully she will fill many of these pages. Perhaps even all the pages. All of them. She turns the cover and puts the pen down.

This is the journal of Marquise Spinnaret Mindfang. It will be a daily record of my travels and adventures as a seagrift. I will document to the 8est of my considera8le a8ility every detail of my life. Let this serve as my history and a guide to whoever may find this journal.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Since Doc Scratch has a hand in turning the trolls into who they are, it wouldn't surprise me if Doc Scratch has a hand in turning the ancestors into who they are, who will, in turn, turn the trolls into who they are.

Doc Scratch is probably far more talkative then he should be, and he probably wouldn't provide Mindfang with the journal, but whatever. I like it better this way.

I am never doing anything with color tags again.

I liked it, despite the talkative Doc Scratch (who is still pretty damn manipulative.) And I agree with the color tags. Half the time I spend on a fic is dicking around with the color tags.

[SkaianRedeemer]

So I get back from my day of RL interrupting me and find that Kass has killed Andrew and taken his place. And that I'm 0kay with that. I tried to explain this new development to a friend but for some reason they did not believe me!

@Jim Groovester: "In a sense, you already have." Heheh.

[Kassiopeia]

So I get back from my day of RL interrupting me and find that Kass has killed Andrew and taken his place.

/innocent face

[Red Pen]

So hey, I just found out We're All Doomed made it into recommended pages on TV Tropes.

For the last three years it has been one of my life goals to have something I write make it onto Tv Tropes.

This is a happy moment for me.

Congratulations, your fic definitely deserved it!

(I am also happy today because as of this update the character interactions in Unhinged are just slightly more canon, and that is a wonderful thing for an SSDD shipper like me.)

[SkaianRedeemer]

(I am also happy today because as of this update the character interactions in Unhinged are just slightly more canon, and that is a wonderful thing for an SSDD shipper like me.)

Yeah, I suspected you too, along with Path in a manner of speaking, so perhaps we still have a mystery on our hands! *deals Clue cards*

[IrateRapScallion]

@Irate: I'm not much good at proper stories, but I'm always open to songfic suggestions. If there's a song you'd like to see rewritten to be about Homestuck, let me know and I'll see if I can do anything with it.

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hide spoiler

Hello, everybody! I was wondering if people here were open to suggestions/requests for topics. I've had a few ideas that intrigued me but my job's crazy hours and my poor writing skills have basically prevented me from doing anything with them, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

I'm definitely open to suggestions. It always lets me try out something new.

Cool, thanks! I apologize if any of these have been covered, but I haven't had the time to go back and read everything you obscenely productive people create. Just this thread alone is daunting and there's 4 more? Yikes.

So my ideas are really questions about how various mechanics of SBurb would effect people with certain beliefs or predilections:
1. A committed pacifist ends up playing SBurb. How does he deal with a world where he is expected and encouraged to kill intelligent beings for money and power? Does he throw away his beliefs and play normally? Or does he attempt to resolve all his conflicts, from the first imp onwards, with meaningful dialog and mutual understanding? Can such a tactic even work, and if so, for how long? What happens if/when he ends up holding the rest of his team back? Would it really be possible to beat the entire game through sheer pulchritude alone?
2. A True Believer ends up playing SBurb. Which religion isn't important, the important thing is this person knows the Truth and is very comfortable in that knowledge. How does he cope with the idea that everything he was raised to believe in and hold sacred is thrown right back in his face as garbage? How does he handle having his worldview ripped to shreds with what one would consider irrefutable evidence?
3. A Machine/Artificial Intelligence ends up playing SBurb. If there's tons of universes out there then surely there must be one with machine or artificial intelligence sophisticated enough to qualify as sentience. Do the players of SBurb or other universes' equivalent game have to be organic life or is merely sentience required to play? If one does get in, how would it react? How does it deal with the existence of something as illogical as magic? What if it ends up having to become a magic user like Rose? (Yes, Watson on Jeopardy was partially responsible for this idea.)

Those are the 3 situations that have been bouncing around my brain for a little while. I would be thrilled if anybody would be willing to delve into any of the three, or combine them into a team for maximum challenge! There are other smaller idea bouncing around in my head too, like an OCD challenged player who is trying to cope with SBurb being the biggest routine disruption ever (in the Land of Sidewalk Cracks and Disorganization?)

Thanks regardless everybody for being such entertaining people. You've kept me from boredom at work many a time.

[Masterly]

3. A Machine/Artificial Intelligence ends up playing SBurb. If there's tons of universes out there then surely there must be one with machine or artificial intelligence sophisticated enough to qualify as sentience. Do the players of SBurb or other universes' equivalent game have to be organic life or is merely sentience required to play? If one does get in, how would it react? How does it deal with the existence of something as illogical as magic? What if it ends up having to become a magic user like Rose? (Yes, Watson on Jeopardy was partially responsible for this idea.)

AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream plays Sburb with his survivorsplaythings and through the course of it all maybe, just maybe they manage to earn back their humanity. And then, even the heartless computers can learn to love.

Haha, just kidding. Somehow Sburb makes their lots in lifevery existences even shittier.

[Cathartes]

EDIT: KAGE POST NO JUTSU~!

:P Sorry.

Please delete.

Oops, sorry, forgot that rule. My mistake, the post is gone!

[Masterly]

EDIT: KAGE POST NO JUTSU~!

:P Sorry.

Please delete.

Oops, sorry, forgot that rule. My mistake, the post is gone!

I forgot the MSPA forums gave users the ability to delete their own posts.

And I forgot.

Quite embarrassing really.

[starburst98]

the thing is, everyone who plays Sburb was MADE by Sburb. it would of taken into account everything and would of known that the pacifist would be there because it MADE him. so if he drops the pacifist attitude then it would of know he would, if he doesn't then it know he would do that too.
same with the believer and the AI, it would of known exactly how they would act and tailored itself for them.

[Cathartes]

Oops, sorry, forgot that rule. My mistake, the post is gone!

I forgot the MSPA forums gave users the ability to delete their own posts.

And I forgot.

Quite embarrassing really.

It seems we can be embarrassed together, then. Accidental necroposting is simply mortifying.

[Nox]

3. A Machine/Artificial Intelligence ends up playing SBurb. If there's tons of universes out there then surely there must be one with machine or artificial intelligence sophisticated enough to qualify as sentience. Do the players of SBurb or other universes' equivalent game have to be organic life or is merely sentience required to play? If one does get in, how would it react? How does it deal with the existence of something as illogical as magic? What if it ends up having to become a magic user like Rose? (Yes, Watson on Jeopardy was partially responsible for this idea.)

AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream plays Sburb with his survivorsplaythings and through the course of it all maybe, just maybe they manage to earn back their humanity. And then, even the heartless computers can learn to love.

Haha, just kidding. Somehow Sburb makes their lots in lifevery existences even shittier.

...now I have a vision of AM giving his speech, and realizing it could be interpreted as the words of strong kismesis feelings to a troll.

AM: Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.

CG: DUDE, I DON'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW YOU!

[IrateRapScallion]

the thing is, everyone who plays Sburb was MADE by Sburb. it would of taken into account everything and would of known that the pacifist would be there because it MADE him. so if he drops the pacifist attitude then it would of know he would, if he doesn't then it know he would do that too.
same with the believer and the AI, it would of known exactly how they would act and tailored itself for them.

I don't know if Sburb tailoring itself for the person really the point of interest here. There's this super in-depth analysis this guy wrote in a reddit thread that I happen to agree with (if you're interested read the ones by disconcision, though I quoted the most relevant passage below) where he examines the idea that the planets that the players arrive on are meant to further the development of the players as people. Now that I reread it he actually gives credit to somebody on these forums for pointing it out, haha. The thing is, how does one develop as a person? Would Sburb try to impress on the pacifist a degree of moral flexibility, or is it challenging him to reinforce his belief by forging it through the fires of adversity? After all, it can be pretty easy to be a pacifist in places like the USA where you can go a whole lifetime without really having to put those principles to the test. As with most stories, it is all about the journey, not the destination.

Probably more important, however, is not what Sburb wants the player to do but rather how the player reacts, and if he decides to take the hint. As the reddit post points out somebody here noticed that many trolls completely failed to learn from their place of arrival. I'm just going to quote the relevant part because I'm lazy...

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"kanaya raised the notion that player's roles are intended to further the personal development of the respective player. someone (Varinn?) on mspaforums pointed out on more than one occasion how the troll's respective planets seem to be almost embarrassingly obvious, only to be exceeded by the awesomely embarrassing ways the trolls find to miss this hints.

this 'trope' became almost explicit with eridan's 'land of wrath and angels', but consider nepeta's 'tea and little cubes'? it's almost a throwaway point, but i think it clearly alludes to her childishness via the contrast to the 'refinement' of the tea service. equius's 'caves and silence' speak to his need to spend some time with himself and get over his obsession with defining himself in terms of others via dominant-submissive power dynamics. but as soon as he gets there he leaves to hang out with nepeta... "this poses no challenge at all for you" HAH. and aradia... uninvolved, fatalistic aradia simply "Skip[s] to the end." fucking. perfect.

i wish i could find a link. karkat's is probably the most obvious of all; Varinn put it something like 'it's a planet of his blood; it's an entire planet screaming 'get over yourself'."

So personally if I were to write something looking at any of these hypothetical situations, the topic I would be most interested in would be the players and how they handle their personal quandaries, what those quandaries are, and whether or not they are able to become more mature, better people. They don't necessarily have to achieve these goals, as the trolls showed. The trolls still won, despite their obtuseness. They were successful and would have gone to the kids' universe if not for the actions of the kids themselves.

Also, I would just find a logical machine trying to understand the bizarre illogical world that is SBurb to be rather entertaining to read. It's silly, I know.

Edit:

...now I have a vision of AM giving his speech, and realizing it could be interpreted as the words of strong kismesis feelings to a troll.

AM: Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.

CG: DUDE, I DON'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW YOU!

This cracks me up so much I have lost the words to properly describe it. Good show.

[anonymousComrade]

This chapter of Crossing Over, I think, is quickly turning out to be the worst thing I've written

Seriously, this shit just doesn't ever fucking end, and I'm still not done

There's no real conflict and no real danger, it's formulaic as hell, I've rewritten this part three times and it still doesn't satisfy me

The entire thing just needs a rewrite from the ground up, really

And yet I'm posting this shit anyway.

Crossing Over: Chapter 12c

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Terezi stumbled blindly down the corridors of the astroid facility. She was vaguely aware that once, she had a sort of second sight, but it had long since left her, and now she had to try to navigate by touch and sound. She made her way deeper into the complex, for reasons she could not remember. All she knew was that Karkat had panicked and told her to get as far away as possible. She passed through another doorway, this time the space opening up beyond the confines of the hallways. There was no other route; she could not avoid traversing the open laboratory space.

A voice to her right startled her. "how you doing, my motherfuckin' sister? MUST BE HARD GETTING AROUND ALL BY YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN' SELF."
Another to her left, sounding identical to the first, yet somehow different. "AwW, cOmE On mAn, ThAt's tErEzI. dOn'T FuCkInG HuRt hEr! I DoN'T WaNt tO MoThErFuCkIn' HuRt aNyOnE ElSe!"
"G4MZ33? WH4T'S WRONG?"
"SHUT UP, BITCH! this doesn't concern you. YET. but i've about had it with this rusty-panned motherfucker."

The sounds of a struggle filled the air briefly, then began to slow before stopping entirely.

"GAMZ33, WH4T'S GO1NG ON? 4R3 YOU OK4Y?"
"hes got this shit on lockdown but youve gotta abscond the fuck outta here unless you want to end up as clown chow."
"W41T... WHO 4R3 YOU?"
"ill explain later, come on!"

The stranger grabbed Terezi's arm and led her out of lab where, presumably, Gamzee was fighting with himself. They made their way to a side storage area, where he barred the doorway.

"alright, now that the area is secure for now, you mind telling me what the fuck youre doing stumbling around?"
"1M BL1ND, 4SSHOL3."
"no youre n--- oh man, those gibbering jackasses thought of everything when they made these damn things, didnt they?"
"WH4T 4R3 YOU T4LK1NG 4BOUT? WHO 4R3 YOU 4ND WH4TS GO1NG ON?"
"try to remember, terezi. how--"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY N4M3?"
"because im a friend of yours. try to remember."
"JUST T3LL M3 WHO YOU 4R3!"
"i cant do that, you have to remember on your own, or theyll notice and we have to start from the beginning."
"TH4T M4K3S 3V3N L3SS S3NS3!"
"its got to be this way, terezi. i cant just straight up tell you who i am, ive gotta be INTODUCING myself as THE NEW FRIEND---"
"G3ROMY! ...W41T, WHY DO 1 KNOW TH4T?!"
"remember, terezi! what's that from?"
"4... 4 COM1C--"
"and the guy who made it?"
"...D4V3 FUCK1NG STR1D3R!"
"and WHY did you like me?"
"B3C4US3 R3D T3XT 1S TH3 T4ST13ST!" And it came flooding back to her, the world exploding in a rainbow of smells and flavors. She laughed and threw her arms around him. "GOG *D4MN* 1T 1S SO GOOD TO F1N4LLY M33T YOU!"

Dave was uncharacteristically flustered by the sudden display of emotion, but only for an instant before he remembered his cool and returned the embrace. "damn. i could get used to this," he thought to himself.

But he had a mission to complete. "if that didnt trigger a collapse then youre not the only one here."
"TH3R3 YOU GO 4G41N, B31NG SO MYST3R1OUSLY V4GU3. WH4T 4R3 YOU 3V3N DO1NG H3R3, 4NYW4Y?"
"itll pretty much explain itself when were done here, but for now ive got a job to do."

Dave and Terezi returned to Gamzee's duel with himself. Terezi sniffed the air; indeed, two Gamzees stood before her, one of whom was splattered with multiple shades of blood. They seemed frozen in place.

"YOU STOPP3D TH3M?"
"well yeah i cant let the homicidal douche beat the rapping clown again, kind of goes against the plan here."
Dave pointed at one of the Gamzees. "sup bro, hows it going?"
The Gamzee without multihued blood smeared on his clothing unfroze and spoke. "Oh, HeY YoUrSeLf, My rEd-cLaD MoThErFuCkEr! JuSt tRyInG To mAkE ThIs dUdE ChIlL ThE FuCk oUt, MaYbE SiT DoWn wItH A FrEsH PiE."
"yeah? hows that been working out?"
"NoT ToO FuCkIn' WeLl, AcTuAlLy. CrAzY MoThErFuCkEr kEePs aTtAcKiNg mY FrIeNdS. sHiT'S MaKiNg mE SaD BeCaUsE I CaN'T StOp hIm."
"why dont you get a nice, long look at him? see if you can find out anything about him?"
"WhAt? OkAy bRo, If YoU sAy sO."
He did as Dave instructed. He stared at his copy for a good thirty seconds before his face widened in surprise.
"HoLy sHiT! tHiS MoThErFuCkEr... He's mE!"
"well congratulations on that revelation sherlock, but what else can you tell about him?"
"...I DoN'T ThInK I LiKe oThEr mE VeRy mUcH. hE KeEpS HuRtInG My fRiEnDs, EvEn tHoUgH I FuCkIn' TeLl hIm nOt tO."
"so then the next part is easy. if you dont like this tool, ditch his ass."
"HoW CaN I Do ThAt, BrO? iF I TaKe hIm dOwN ThEn i'm nO MoThErFuCkIn' BeTtEr tHaN He iS."
"sure you are. its like my bro taught me, its cool to get angry as long as you know how to focus it. theres a hell of a difference between mindless rage and righteous fury. being pissed off about shit going bad is normal, you just gotta use it right."
"RiGhTeOuS FuRy, Eh? NoW ThAt iS An iDeA I CaN GeT BeHiNd, My mOtHeRfUcKeR."

A subtle motion of Dave's arm, and the scene unfolded.
"I NEED A RUSTY-PANNED MOTHERFUCKIN' OTHER SELF LIKE I NEED A HOLE IN MY OWN FUCKIN' THINK PAN. i think these walls would look fuckin' nice with a little indigo on them."
"CaN'T LeT YoU Do tHaT, bRo! I WoN'T LeT YoU MoThErFuCkIn' RuLe mE AnYmOrE."
"OH, REALLY, MOTHERFUCKER? who's gonna stop me? YOU? not fuckin' likely! NOW THAT WOULD BE A MOTHERFUCKING MIRACLE."

One punch. One punch, thrown in a rage against what he had become, was all it took to knock his dark side into the abyss.

"ThEn i gUeSs It's a gOoD ThInG I BeLiEvE In mOtHeRfUcKiN' MiRaClEs."

A flash of light, and the world shattered like glass around them.

"welp, now that ive personally helped you two get over your problems, i suppose that makes us one big fucking family in the worst after-school special ive ever seen."

"HaHaHaHa dAmN, wHaT ThE FuCk jUsT HaPpEnEd?" Suddenly, the memories came flooding back.
"Oh... FuUuUuUuCk. I... i rEaLlY DiD KiLl sOmE BrOs, DiDn't i?" He spun around to face Terezi. "AnD YoU, YoU KiLlEd *Me!*"
"G4MZ33, 1--"
He smiled at her. "YoU StOpPeD Me fRoM HuRtInG AnY MoRe oF OuR FrIeNdS! tHaNkS, mY FuCkIn' SiStEr."
"YOUR3 R34LLY OK4Y W1TH TH4T?"
"YoU FuCkIn' DiD WhAt yOu hAd tO dO. cAn't fUcKiN' bLaMe yOu fOr tHaT."

Terezi turned to Dave. "SO, WH3R3 4R3 W3?"
"horrorterror dream bubble, or thats what it used to be. when we broke the cycle just now, that shit broke down like the fucking death star with a photon torpedo jammed in its exhaust pipe."
He removed two crystal spheres from a pouch hanging from his belt. "im getting you two out of here. here, catch."

As Terezi and Gamzee caught the crystal balls, they disappeared. A teal radiance glowed from one; indigo from the other.

Dave reclaimed the crystals as the other members of his group approached. "kar and kans bubble aint too far from this one, its right ovver there."

Notes:

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ughhhhhhhhhh this took forever and it still sucks

I can't write Gamzee, not at all. Sober Gamzee doesn't sound right and Sopor Gamzee isn't stoned enough, and neither of them seem enough like juggalos because I don't know shit about ICP (which would normally be a great thing but here it works to my disadvantage). I guess maybe he's got a clearer head here in the dreambubbles than he would sopored up in life? But that's a cop-out

I'm making a solemn promise, after Crossing Over is finished I'll never write Gamzee or Kanaya again, I simply can't write them well at all (you should have seen the shit I threw out in favor of this)

Also I'm pretty sure my Dave is slipping

God I ought to just skip to the end and write the epilogue/one-shot I thought of that inspired this entire mess and salvage what little credit I have

[Megafire]

Chill out AC, it's definitely not as bad as you think it is.

[Violet CLM]

Episode 4: Kanaya the Rainbow Drinker Slayer passes the Bechdel Test practically non-stop.

[Megafire]

Kismesis: the Snake, chapter 2, the Owl is up.

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CC and CS are already my favourite characters simply by virtue of Word's autocorrect not 'fixing' all of the mistakes.

Also, it is absolutely impossible to make '' appear for my on AO3. If anyone could help me fix that, it would be much appreciated.

[smerker]

ceruleanTresses, would you please write someone singing"Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man" from Showboat? It's stuck in my head.

[X15lm204]

@Megafire: Use <>

When HTML reads that it will replace it with .

Also useful for things like Nepeta's quirk; you can use &lt; to keep the HTML from being confused by <. AO3 will usually replace > with &gt; on its own, but if you can spare the time and/or have a good find and replace function it helps to do it yourself.

[ceruleanTresses]

ceruleanTresses, would you please write someone singing"Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man" from Showboat? It's stuck in my head.

I shall see what I can do.

(If I can make it work, though, it'll be a few hours--I have class until 4 starting in about 5 minutes.)

[Megafire]

@Megafire: Use &lt;&gt;

When HTML reads that it will replace it with .

Also useful for things like Nepeta's quirk; you can use &lt; to keep the HTML from being confused by <. AO3 will usually replace > with &gt; on its own, but if you can spare the time and/or have a good find and replace function it helps to do it yourself.

Thank you.