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

[Author]

Woah look I'm writing more.

We Are The Dead

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Hello.

You do not know us very well. You do not speak with us as you do with Her. But we know you. We speak with you.

We were there at the End. We fought alongside those you watch. But we were ignored, for we did not matter. We were merely fodder for the final duel. But we still fought. We fought him, the Great One. We feel your horror at this statement. You believe we should not call him a 'Great One'. But we do not mind your horror. For though he is terrible, he is indeed Great.

But we still fought him. We wanted to go, or to see the Better Place. Where She will go. We knew that this was a foolish hope, for it was not meant to be. It is not our destiny to continue on, as it is hers. However, we still fought the Great One.

The battle was terrible, if you must know. Many of us were destroyed. But we do not mind, for we knew the outcome before it occurred. You may think it is strange, to not care about those who died, but you must understand. We are still one. One mind, functioning in many parts. During the battle, we were one. We served Her to our last, and a few of us managed to survive. We were with them when the Great One came, and destroyed Her future. But we still did not mind. For we were one, and we did not feel Her despair, as She merely lead us. But a separate part of us saw our past.

We fought him in the past, you know. The Great One, that is.

It was a terrible battle, and we remember it. The Great One fought hard, and he destroyed many of us. But we returned for the final battle, for She brought us back from different parts of time. However, against the Great One, we know we would lose. He is too Great, too powerful, for mere shadows to defeat Him. We know we will not win. We know we cannot win. But still we fight. We must fight. For whatever happens, we may still have a chance. But in the end, it means nothing.

For we are the dead.

Short, but I like it.

[Dermonster]

Wayward Vagabond / Peregrine Medicant

Heat

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It begins with an argument. The miniature city of cans lay nearby, marred by ammunition rounds.

He makes a gesture and moves the munitions out of City limits.

The other stamps his foot and moves them back in.

The grey one hesitates, then moves half of them out of the city.

The yellow one hisses and moves them back.

Frustrated, he moves just a single small round out of the city.

The other puts it back.

They fly at each other, and in a flurry of fists they fight.

Another comes into the fray, pleading for peace. The gray one wipes his bloody lip and storms off into the desert. The yellow one cheers his triumph and moves the ammunition to surround city hall.

The white one looks at the retreating back, worried.



He is tired.

Tired and hot.

The sand around him is slightly messed, disturbed by his mad stomping. He sits and feels warm.

So warm.

There is a burning at the back of his head but he doesn't care. No one cares, he thinks. If he can't even rule over a city with diplomacy over force, what kind of friend would he be.

Not a good one.

So he blinks, eyelids droopy in the twilight sun.

She comes over and sits next to him.

He glances at her, then returns his gaze to the sunset.

She puts her arms around him, and he looks at her, startled.

She smiles and leans into his shoulder.

It's not all that bad, he concedes, as the moon rises over the sands, burying the heat.

They fall asleep, leaning on each other, and the night goes on.

[DJ-P0N3]

Whoa
look
I'm lurking more.
Everything I have read is pretty damn good!
I wish I had better ideas.
I fold.

[RogerMexico]

Hello all! Geez, you guys have produced quite a plethora of fics in the span of a day. Two pages, I think it was? Anyway, I haven't quite decided what to do with the third chapter of RESET, so I'll ask you guys.

Who would you rather see next: Rose or Jade?

[Embargo]

Hello all! Geez, you guys have produced quite a plethora of fics in the span of a day. Two pages, I think it was? Anyway, I haven't quite decided what to do with the third chapter of RESET, so I'll ask you guys.

Who would you rather see next: Rose or Jade?

Rose.

[Domoz]

Woah look I'm writing more.

We Are The Dead

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Hello.

You do not know us very well. You do not speak with us as you do with Her. But we know you. We speak with you.

We were there at the End. We fought alongside those you watch. But we were ignored, for we did not matter. We were merely fodder for the final duel. But we still fought. We fought him, the Great One. We feel your horror at this statement. You believe we should not call him a 'Great One'. But we do not mind your horror. For though he is terrible, he is indeed Great.

But we still fought him. We wanted to go, or to see the Better Place. Where She will go. We knew that this was a foolish hope, for it was not meant to be. It is not our destiny to continue on, as it is hers. However, we still fought the Great One.

The battle was terrible, if you must know. Many of us were destroyed. But we do not mind, for we knew the outcome before it occurred. You may think it is strange, to not care about those who died, but you must understand. We are still one. One mind, functioning in many parts. During the battle, we were one. We served Her to our last, and a few of us managed to survive. We were with them when the Great One came, and destroyed Her future. But we still did not mind. For we were one, and we did not feel Her despair, as She merely lead us. But a separate part of us saw our past.

We fought him in the past, you know. The Great One, that is.

It was a terrible battle, and we remember it. The Great One fought hard, and he destroyed many of us. But we returned for the final battle, for She brought us back from different parts of time. However, against the Great One, we know we would lose. He is too Great, too powerful, for mere shadows to defeat Him. We know we will not win. We know we cannot win. But still we fight. We must fight. For whatever happens, we may still have a chance. But in the end, it means nothing.

For we are the dead.

Short, but I like it.

Hehehe. I've already commented on this one, but

So... here's another one.

Aristocratic Outcast: Un
Aristocratic Outcast: Deux

Aristocratic Outcast: Trois
though ivve been made an outcast i am still loyal to those wwho i wwill nevver see again

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For trolls without sopor, sleep would more often than not end up in an absolutely horrifying nightmare. Terrible, horrifying dreams lurked behind every blink of the eye, and should one keep his eyes shut for too long, he'd find that nightmares were all too quick to invade your mind. Nightmares varied from person to person, and often relied upon the dreamer's worst fears to truly take form. Eridan found that his own nightmares would coil themselves around his fragile subconscious while they taunted him; while they haunted him. "No more tentacles..." he'd say over and over in his sleep.

He would often wake up at night feeling more drained than he would've if he had simply stayed awake. One of the reasons why he chose to sleep in the cave was because of the seismic turmoil near the underground lakes that existed far below the surface. The sound of stone grinding itself into dust echoed loudly across the tunnel network, and the noise was enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least then he could manage a few hours of rest before heading back up to his forest kingdom.

Now, however, he was stuck outside, in a burrow, on the surface, in the middle of the afternoon. The sinister monstrosities of his childhood seem to return to hunt their prey, wrapping their feelers around the edges of his vision. Even now as he tried to stay awake, he could feel fear-mongering creatures poking their way into his subconscious, whispering evils that echoed softly in the back of his head. Demand... blood... sacrifice...

kill

Kill

KILL

KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL-

Eridan pressed a webbed digit into one of the wounds he'd recieved from the spine hog to keep himself awake. The voices were far more quiet now, granting him a brief respite. He perspired, sweat mixing with the dirt that caked his tattered clothes and gangly limbs. The quasi-royal wiped his forehead dry and sighed. There was pretty much no way he was going to get any shut-eye tonight.

Cupid seemed to be doing better, though the boy did toss and turn fitfully next to him. Eridan just sighed as he leaned back against his makeshift bed. The leaves he'd used to make it weren't very comfortable at all, though one could imagine there being worse places to sleep than a pile of leaves.

That got Eridan thinking. Why'd the little guy run away from home anyway? A clean bed, three square meals, and a mother who loved you seemed like some pretty sweet digs. It was better than what Eridan had now, at least. The kid was only three sweeps and he was already trying to make it on his own.

Eridan decided then that he wasn't going to allow that. He'd made his own stupid mistakes when he was younger, and he wasn't about to let his... what was it called again? A son? He wasn't going to let his son fall into that same vicious cycle of stupidity. It was impossible to ignore that he did feel a certain sense of responsibility for Cupid. They had only been traveling together for a week and he already felt some sort of connection to the boy. Maybe it was the resemblance. The kid did have his horns, and he probably got that mouth full of shark-like teeth from him. Though Eridan did notice some differences. Cupid's eyes seemed to glow purple when he expressed deep emotion. His speech was flowery and far less blunt than Eridan's. His grace and poise seemed so natural, like a true aristocrat. Now that he'd seen the end-result of his pairing with Rose, it seemed so right. It all made sense.

Though, could it even be called a pairing? The relationship had been far more one-sided than he would've liked, but there was no denying the child's parentage. Eridan guessed that Rose's natural affinity with magic, or science, had caused the attraction during the breeding process to occur. Did that mean that the child had untold powers locked within him? Was he a magintist, or a sci-mage? Did those gills function properly, or had they become superflous as a result of his breeding with a human? This was all too confusing for him. He needed answers.

Eridan hoped to get them when he brought Cupid back home. As if on cue, the boy reached out and took hold of his arm, latching on to it in an instant. Eridan froze, unsure of what he should do. He didn't dare move away, lest he rouse the child from his slumber. Instead, the amphibian snuggled closer to his son. "Shh... only dreams now." He cooed gently. Cupid seemed to relax at that, sighing against his father's arm softly. Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could work out. Maybe Cupid deserved to have him around. Maybe this was the moment he'd been waiting for; the moment to return from his exile and take his place in the new society they were building.

You don't get enough comments on this thing, I really do love it.

[ceruleanTresses]

I decided to try my hand at one of these alternate-session things. It is probably really really bad.

Transhuman

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Be the Thief of Mind.

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____You're the leader. That was a given, since you were the first to enter the Medium. You're pretty sure Sburb somehow arranged things that way, because let's face it: you are amazing at this leadership thing. It's not the most modest conclusion anyone's ever drawn, but you've never believed in self-deception.

____Deceiving others, however, is sometimes necessary. Your friends know you're a great leader, but they don't know why. The fact that you've kept this secret is part of why you're the leader. If they knew, it would tear the team apart.

____The truth is that you can read minds. It's second nature to you now to sift through the chaos of half-finished thoughts and complex emotions, searching for a crystal of useful information. Sometimes it's a memory; sometimes a secret; sometimes a skill; whatever it is, you always find it in the end. This is something you've been able to do since before the game.

____Every newborn gets a communication implant—or at least they used to, before the world ended. It's part of the standard package, along with gene therapy and the respirocyte/immunocyte combo. The comm, as it's colloquially known, is a neurological upgrade that permits direct mind-to-mind communication with anyone who has a comm of their own. Essentially, it functions as a mechanical relay between organic brains. It's supposed to be completely secure, but you figured out how to hack it. Anyone who opens a channel with you unwittingly leaves their full store of knowledge and memories open for your perusal.

____If you'd been allowed a normal life, you might have used this ability to steal passwords and identities; or perhaps you'd have been a spy. In the Medium, it's what allows you to lead. Knowing precisely what every member of your team has seen and done is invaluable for coordination. More importantly, talking to each of your allies while monitoring their thoughts has taught you exactly how to manipulate them. Some of them respond to emotional appeals; some to logical appeals; some respect your authority no matter what; and some have to be convinced that your instructions were their own idea in the first place.

____You don't think what you're doing is wrong. You've been entirely transparent about your motives, just not your methods. You want exactly what your team wants—for everyone to survive the game. You can't afford to respect their privacy when their lives are on the line.

____Recently, you've discovered that you don't even need the comms anymore. Every mind is open to you, whether it's wrapped in flesh or in carapace. You have a feeling that this new ability will be very useful during Operation Exile.

Be the Bard of Time.

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____You didn't cry when you were born. Something went wrong, something the doctors didn't catch in time to fix, and you came into the world with a pained, squeaking gasp.

____In another time, it might have been a tragedy. Instead, it was a blessing. Your warped and stunted vocal cords were taken out six months later, to be replaced with your Voice. The traditional name for the implant is “vocal synthesizer,” but you've always approached your Voice with a certain amount of childlike awe. It deserves a lofty title, you think.

____Your Voice is no ordinary synthesizer. Your father paid for the best, at the cost of ten years' savings. (It's only recently that it occurred to you to wonder what he was saving up for.) It can create any sound, any voice, any pitch. In your early childhood, you used it to play practical jokes—mimicking the sound of the doorbell, for instance. Later, you used it to sing.

____You specialized in a sort of vocal jazz, improvising unnaturally beautiful melodies that no ordinary voice could have managed. You wove in echoes and harmonies, sirens and bells, the sighing of wind and the tick of a metronome. A universe of sound was open to you, and you made the most of it.

____In the Medium, your Voice is more than just beautiful. With it, you can sing the melody of Time, a melody that would otherwise have been out of your reach. You need no instruments to find your way, no turntables or music boxes. You sing, and reality warps around you. You dance nimbly through Time, playing it like a harp, plucking at its strings with the rhythm of your song.

____It wasn't always this easy. Just having the Voice wasn't enough; you still had to learn how to use it. The curving, paradoxical pathways of Time are not easy to navigate. Some trial and error was necessary, and a few of your alternate selves paid the price. Fortunately, you've always been good at sightreading.

Be the Knight of Void.

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____Until the game, you never understood why your mother insisted on giving you combat upgrades. Looking back, it seems as if your childhood was nothing but an endless chain of surgeries and recoveries and surgeries again. Now, of course, you know why she did it. She was preparing you to fight.

____Your body is the end result of millions of dollars invested, dozens of painful surgeries, and a few truly amazing scientific breakthroughs. Your muscles, your skin, even most of your nervous system—all are synthetic. Your vital organs have been replaced with durable mechanical substitutes, each with multiple redundancies built in. Your robotic eyes can identify and label weak points based on the results of previous fights; they can pick up on the tiniest movement; they can even zoom in to analyze a distant foe. You're strong, inhumanly fast, and nigh impossible to kill. Above all, you are deadly.

____Ironically, you chose the low-tech Knifekind for your specibus. For a while you regretted that, because it forced you to kill up close and personal. You're okay with it now.

____The first time you killed an imp, it wasn't so bad. The fight was over so quickly that there wasn't time to really consider what you were doing, or what it meant. The next kill was easy too, and the one after.

____But it wasn't long before your powers began to manifest. You were fighting a Giclops, and it was just as easy as it had always been. Your knife pierced its single eye, and the beast collapsed with an anguished roar.

____You stood beside its dying body, watching it twitch, waiting to be sure it wouldn't get up again. It was the third of its kind you'd slain. You'd felt nothing the first two times, and you felt nothing now. But as its last breath dissolved into a shuddering rattle, everything changed.

____You felt something horrible, something you've never really been able to describe. You felt the monster die. To be precise, you felt the space it left behind, empty and gaping. It felt wrong, it felt sick, and you realized for the first time that this was a living being and you'd killed it. You'd erased from existence something unique, a consciousness that had never existed before and never would again. You fell to your knees, retching, your face streaked with tears.

____But you couldn't stop fighting if you wanted to live. You killed again an hour later, and this time it was a little easier. You killed and killed, until the void didn't hurt you anymore.

____It's a new kind of indifference. Before, you simply didn't care. Now you are able to acknowledge what you've done, to fully accept the magnitude of taking a life, and yet remain confident of the necessity of your actions. You carry the emptiness with you, and the grass withers where you walk.

____Thus far, you are the only member of your session to have reached God-tier. You told your friends that it was hard, that you grappled with your mortality, that it took all of your courage to deal the fatal blow.

____The truth is that you didn't even hesitate before you stabbed yourself through the heart; and when it closed off the damaged region and kept pumping, you twisted the knife. It hurt like hell, but your expression never changed.

____You'd walked with death too long to fear it. You'd walked with death too long to care.

____Your resurrection, though...That was special. That, you treasure. For the first and only time, the void was filled.

Be the Rogue of Space.

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____Even before the apocalypse, you were probably the only thirteen-year-old alive with ChromaControl™ hair, eyes, and skin. Being raised by your older sister has its advantages; greater leniency regarding personal expression is one of them.

____The ChromaControl™ implants aren't the cheap, temporary lenses and bodysuits that people wear to costume parties. Your eyes, hair, and skin have been completely removed and replaced with synthetic counterparts. They aren't much more durable than the originals, but they have one significant advantage: you can change their color at will.

____Before Sburb, you delighted in experimenting with your appearance. Your favorite setting was one that would gradually cycle through the color spectrum. You'd set your hair to start at bright red, your eyes at green, and your skin at indigo. You delighted in the juxtaposition of opposing hues, at once clashing with and complementing each other. In the Medium, you've added one more item to your rainbow arsenal: a skin-tight suit, courtesy of the alchemiter, that changes color with your skin.

____In the early stages of the game, you thought that you could use your unique condition to become a master of disguise. That plan fell through when you discovered that you and your fellow players are the only humans in the session, making you instantly recognizable no matter what you do—your implants won't let you simulate a carapace.

____Instead, you use them as camouflage.

____You move invisibly through guarded corridors, your colors shifting to match your surroundings. You look for hidden passageways when you can, but it doesn't make much difference; you have almost never been seen. On one memorable occasion, you passed within yards of the Dersian army and left unscathed.

____You don't kill unless you have to; you're looking for frogs, not corpses. But when you have no other option, you are a more efficient and dangerous assassin than the Knight. Your role as an avatar of Space has given you unique insight into the physics of the first three dimensions—particularly trajectory. Shurikens may be clichéd, but yours never miss, and no one ever sees them coming.

____You play your part with deftness and skill, but that doesn't mean it's easy. You chose ChromaControl™ because you wanted to stand out, like a rainbow in a gray sky. Now, you fade into the background. You've always hated darkness for the way it leeches color. Now, you hide in shadow.

____To keep yourself sane, you seek out brightness wherever you can find it. Before Sburb, “ordinary” art bored you; creating patterns for your own body was far more interesting. But your recently acquired intuition for lines, shapes, and perspective has sparked a new passion. Between your dreary missions, you have been teaching yourself to paint.

Be the Seer of Hope.

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____Physical and aesthetic upgrades never meant much to you. Your uncle raised you as a scholar, and so you chose only implants that helped you think.

____Your extensive neurological upgrades have given you powers of cognition far beyond what your organic brain could have achieved on its own. Thanks to your data storage chip, your memory is literally perfect; you can recall every moment of your life since you received that implant, in absolute clarity. You can carry out mental calculations with incredible speed. Most significantly, you've split your consciousness into three parts. You can follow three completely unrelated chains of thought simultaneously, without any overlap or confusion.

____These latter two abilities have served you well in the game. The Bard improvises her dance through time as lightly as she does her songs, and she rarely permits herself to know anything of the future beyond her own role in it. It has fallen to you, therefore, to be your session's prophet.

____You've thought about it—you are capable of a lot of thinking—and you have come to the conclusion that Hope and Light are intertwined. Hope is not about what must be, or what will be, or even what should be. It's about what may be. It's about chance.

____You base this inference on the nature of the game's gift to you. Since entering the Medium, you've discovered an intuition for probability that you never had before. You can look at any situation and instantly see how it would change, should any of a thousand random factors intervene. It was disorienting at first, but you're used to excessive complexity. You adapted.

____In a sense, you can see the future. At least, one of the tens of thousands of outcomes you predict will be the future. Making full use of your three levels of consciousness and your enhanced processing power, you can calculate the likely end results of dozens of different courses of action.

____But you can't derive a certain outcome in a universe where chaos underlies everything, and that's where your insight into the random comes in. In your mind, each potential timeline branches out into hundreds or thousands of possibilities. If you exile Jack Noir before dealing with the Black Queen, she might be just as easily taken down, or she might kill the Rogue. If you ally with Jack to deal with the Queen, he might or might not succeed in seizing her ring. The range of possibilities is wide—but not endless.

____You can't be certain of what will or won't bring success, but you can narrow down your options to those with the greatest chance of payoff and the least chance of loss. You regularly report your conclusions to the Thief, who makes the final decision and gives the orders; and so far, nobody has died. Not permanently, anyway.

____You're glad that you can't really see the future. You remember having once read about something called “wave function collapse,” which occurs when something exists in several possible states. The moment an observer enters the picture, all of those possibilities collapse into one. You believe that if you could actually know the future, then that future would become immutable. You and your friends would be locked into fate, becoming little more than marionettes dangling from the strings of Time.

____But as long as you only see what may be, there's hope. For every reasonable course of action, you can see a chance of victory. You intend to keep it that way.

Be the Maid of Life.

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____There is no real logic to your upgrades. They're a hodgepodge of homebrews; an eclectic collection of implants that you designed and installed yourself. Your body is patchworked with seemingly random strips of metal and plastic. You think they're beautiful, because they're part of you.

____Before Sburb, it was your dream to give humanity the gift of immortality. Even with the incredible medical breakthroughs of the past few decades, your species was still trapped in an endless race against death. Centuries-old scientists struggled daily to find a way to keep themselves alive for one more year. You have never thought this was fair.

____Death, in your mind, is nothing more than a design flaw; a valueless mistake of evolution. You are amazed that some seem to find beauty in the permanent destruction of a mind. Back on Earth, people used words like “peace” and “rest” and “sleep” when they spoke of it. All you could think of, when they talked that way, was how much you've always hated being sent to bed.

____In the Medium, your ambitions narrowed drastically. Where once you had sought to destroy death itself, now you focused on keeping your five friends alive. As the last children of the human race, it was imperative that they survive; that, and you loved them. You still do—even the Knight, who makes your head hurt just by being near you. You've loved nearly every sapient creature you've ever met, simply for existing; but you love your friends most of all.

____You refused to fight, even in self-defense, because the thought of killing made you ill. Instead you paired up with each other player in turn, letting them protect you. In return, you repaired, tweaked, and upgraded their implants. After a while you discovered that, Knight excepted, just being around you made their wounds close faster; and eventually you learned to heal with a touch. It seemed that you had found your niche.

____Then you discovered the true purpose of the game, and everything changed. Your old ambitions have come flooding back. There is more at stake here than the remnants of humanity.

____You believe that it is within your power to create a universe without death.

____And that is exactly what you're going to do.

[Doodled]

So, I'm 20 pages behind.

welp.

Felt like I ought to write something about my patron troll. Thought the alluded-to scene between Eridan and Nepeta would be worth a punt.

Eridan: Seek relationship guidance.

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caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

CA: hey nep
CA: whats up
AC: :33 < *ac cautiously purrowls round the fishy looking newcomer*
CA: hey knock it off
CA: fuckin landdwwellers nickin the fish pun thing
CA: thats our thing
CA: you cant do it
AC: :33 < *ac looks mournful, her ears drooping*
CA: knock that off too
CA: this is serious
AC: :33 < *'it is?' ac says, cocking her head playfully*
CA: yeah
CA: kar put me onto it
CA: seems to knoww wwhere his shits at
CA: for a landdwwellin mutant
AC: :33 < he's not a mewtant! >(
AC: :33 < he's just a bit fairer than aradia is
CA: wwas
AC: :33 < whatever
AC: :33 < equius is gonna repurr her, you'll s33
AC: :33 < he's the best with robots
AC: :33 < she'll be good as mew
AC: :33 < we're in his workshop now working on it :33
CA: hes not lookin ovver your shoulder is he
AC: :33 < no
CA: good
CA: so youre like the shippin expert or wwhatevver
CA: got your shippin wall all drawwn up for all a the quadrants
AC: :33 < uh, no
AC: :33 < just moirallegiances and matespritships
CA: wwell do you think you could wwork on the others
AC: :33 < i guess, why?
CA: i need your help nep
CA: its been so fuckin hard
CA: this game
CA: the land of wwrath and angels
CA: that fuckin mustardblooded lowwlife gettin his unclammy hands all over fef
CA: im just feelin kind of lonely right noww
CA: i wwanted to knoww wwho you think makes a good partner for me
CA: wwho you ship me wwith
AC: :33 < uh, i dunno eridan
CA: wwhaddya mean
AC: :33 < i dont mewsually share my shipping wall with people
AC: :33 < its purrsonal! o
CA: please nep
CA: i savved your life remember
CA: if you kneww howw this feels bein rejected ovver and ovver again youd help me
CA: nep
CA: you there
AC: :33 < yes i'm here
AC: :33 < ok fine i'll help you out this one time
AC: :33 < but don't you dare tattletail!
CA: ok fine
CA: so hit me
CA: wwhat have you got in my quadrants
AC: :33 < well i already said
AC: :33 < i don't k33p auspistice or kismessitude walls
AC: :33 < but i guess after you and feferi split i thought gamz33 would make a good moirail for you
CA: wwhat
CA: that clowwnfish
CA: wwhy him
AC: :33 < you two have surpurrising amounts in common
AC: :33 < you both used to live by the sea
AC: :33 < you both like collecting things
AC: :33 < you're highbloods
AC: :33 < and you both have big plans for the future! :33
CA: waitin round for some gogdamn lunatic mirthful messiahs to appear aint a plan
CA: its just wwishful thinkin
CA: anyway i cant be moirails with gam
AC: :33 < why not? ?
CA: i cant go into it
CA: ok next pick
AC: :33 < what do you m33n?
CA: wwho else do you paleship wwith me
AC: :33 < i don't really
CA: wwhat
CA: thats it
AC: :33 < well, yeah
CA: this is a fuckin outrage
CA: im the most eligible fuckin bachelor in wwhats left a our species
AC: :33 < i guess i didn't think about it like that
CA: wwell you should start
CA: get your shit together
CA: stop pairin me wwith fuckin ridiculous clowwns
CA: anywway wwhat do you havve in the flushed quadrant
AC: :33 < um
AC: :33 < tavros i guess
CA: youre havvin a fuckin laugh
CA: that fudgeblooded cullfodder
CA: i wwouldnt piss in his pail to put it out
AC: :33 < eridan!!
AC: :33 < i've b33n trying to help you even though you didn't ask nicely
AC: :33 < and all you've done is stick your claws in and purrsecute my pairings
AC: :33 < i told you it was purrsonal and you didn't listen!
AC: :33 < and now you're being incredibly rude!! >(
CA: oh gog
CA: youre right nep
CA: im sorry
CA: im an awwful friend
CA: im just so miserable yknoww
CA: i miss my skyhorse
CA: and fef
CA: its hard
CA: its hard growwin up and noone understands
AC: :33 < *ac approaches the upset ca and pats him with a caring paw*
AC: :33 < *'it's ok' she says*
AC: :33 < *'we all miss our lusii, it's difficult for all of us being so fur from home'
AC: :33 < *'that's why it's impurrtant we don't start scratching and backbiting each other now'*
CA: i guess you're right
CA: *ca takes acs tender, tremblin head in his firm hands an plants a soft but sensual and movvin kiss on one of her mouths*
AC: :33 < *ac wriggles away and pulls a face! >C*
AC: :33 < that is not what i meant eridan!!
CA: aww come on nep
CA: i knoww youre not seein anyone like that right now
CA: i could be a fintastic matesprit
AC: :33 < are you trying to win me over with fish puns? oh my gog! > X00
AC: :33 < it doesn't matter who i am or aren't s33ing
AC: :33 < i'm not interested in you like that, ok?
CA: wwhat the fuck is it gonna take
CA: i already savved your dirtscrapin hide
CA: wwhy wwouldnt you be interested
CA: fuckin worked for that fakey fake mage dickhead
AC: :33 < i don't have to explain myself
CA: you knoww for someone so interested in shippin youre kind of a cold fish
AC: :33 < shut up
AC: :33 < leave me alone
CA: i thought wwe had a connection
CA: i thought wwe had something in common nep
CA: wwhy are you shuttin me out
AC: :33 < beclaws i've got something you haven't got
AC: :33 < standards

arsenicCatnip [AC] blocked caligulasAquarium [CA]

Is it terribly OC for Nepeta to show a little backbone in this kind of circumstance? Didn't really feel right Eridan not getting the rollicking he so ripely deserves. Hm.

And this is just awesome.

hopeless!Eridan will never cease to be hilarious.

@cT: Whoa, that's...

Schweet.

[A Fan]

Felt like I ought to write something about my patron troll. Thought the alluded-to scene between Eridan and Nepeta would be worth a punt.

Eridan: Seek relationship guidance.

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caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

CA: hey nep
CA: whats up
AC: :33 < *ac cautiously purrowls round the fishy looking newcomer*
CA: hey knock it off
CA: fuckin landdwwellers nickin the fish pun thing
CA: thats our thing
CA: you cant do it
AC: :33 < *ac looks mournful, her ears drooping*
CA: knock that off too
CA: this is serious
AC: :33 < *'it is?' ac says, cocking her head playfully*
CA: yeah
CA: kar put me onto it
CA: seems to knoww wwhere his shits at
CA: for a landdwwellin mutant
AC: :33 < he's not a mewtant! >(
AC: :33 < he's just a bit fairer than aradia is
CA: wwas
AC: :33 < whatever
AC: :33 < equius is gonna repurr her, you'll s33
AC: :33 < he's the best with robots
AC: :33 < she'll be good as mew
AC: :33 < we're in his workshop now working on it :33
CA: hes not lookin ovver your shoulder is he
AC: :33 < no
CA: good
CA: so youre like the shippin expert or wwhatevver
CA: got your shippin wall all drawwn up for all a the quadrants
AC: :33 < uh, no
AC: :33 < just moirallegiances and matespritships
CA: wwell do you think you could wwork on the others
AC: :33 < i guess, why?
CA: i need your help nep
CA: its been so fuckin hard
CA: this game
CA: the land of wwrath and angels
CA: that fuckin mustardblooded lowwlife gettin his unclammy hands all over fef
CA: im just feelin kind of lonely right noww
CA: i wwanted to knoww wwho you think makes a good partner for me
CA: wwho you ship me wwith
AC: :33 < uh, i dunno eridan
CA: wwhaddya mean
AC: :33 < i dont mewsually share my shipping wall with people
AC: :33 < its purrsonal! o
CA: please nep
CA: i savved your life remember
CA: if you kneww howw this feels bein rejected ovver and ovver again youd help me
CA: nep
CA: you there
AC: :33 < yes i'm here
AC: :33 < ok fine i'll help you out this one time
AC: :33 < but don't you dare tattletail!
CA: ok fine
CA: so hit me
CA: wwhat have you got in my quadrants
AC: :33 < well i already said
AC: :33 < i don't k33p auspistice or kismessitude walls
AC: :33 < but i guess after you and feferi split i thought gamz33 would make a good moirail for you
CA: wwhat
CA: that clowwnfish
CA: wwhy him
AC: :33 < you two have surpurrising amounts in common
AC: :33 < you both used to live by the sea
AC: :33 < you both like collecting things
AC: :33 < you're highbloods
AC: :33 < and you both have big plans for the future! :33
CA: waitin round for some gogdamn lunatic mirthful messiahs to appear aint a plan
CA: its just wwishful thinkin
CA: anyway i cant be moirails with gam
AC: :33 < why not? ?
CA: i cant go into it
CA: ok next pick
AC: :33 < what do you m33n?
CA: wwho else do you paleship wwith me
AC: :33 < i don't really
CA: wwhat
CA: thats it
AC: :33 < well, yeah
CA: this is a fuckin outrage
CA: im the most eligible fuckin bachelor in wwhats left a our species
AC: :33 < i guess i didn't think about it like that
CA: wwell you should start
CA: get your shit together
CA: stop pairin me wwith fuckin ridiculous clowwns
CA: anywway wwhat do you havve in the flushed quadrant
AC: :33 < um
AC: :33 < tavros i guess
CA: youre havvin a fuckin laugh
CA: that fudgeblooded cullfodder
CA: i wwouldnt piss in his pail to put it out
AC: :33 < eridan!!
AC: :33 < i've b33n trying to help you even though you didn't ask nicely
AC: :33 < and all you've done is stick your claws in and purrsecute my pairings
AC: :33 < i told you it was purrsonal and you didn't listen!
AC: :33 < and now you're being incredibly rude!! >(
CA: oh gog
CA: youre right nep
CA: im sorry
CA: im an awwful friend
CA: im just so miserable yknoww
CA: i miss my skyhorse
CA: and fef
CA: its hard
CA: its hard growwin up and noone understands
AC: :33 < *ac approaches the upset ca and pats him with a caring paw*
AC: :33 < *'it's ok' she says*
AC: :33 < *'we all miss our lusii, it's difficult for all of us being so fur from home'
AC: :33 < *'that's why it's impurrtant we don't start scratching and backbiting each other now'*
CA: i guess you're right
CA: *ca takes acs tender, tremblin head in his firm hands an plants a soft but sensual and movvin kiss on one of her mouths*
AC: :33 < *ac wriggles away and pulls a face! >C*
AC: :33 < that is not what i meant eridan!!
CA: aww come on nep
CA: i knoww youre not seein anyone like that right now
CA: i could be a fintastic matesprit
AC: :33 < are you trying to win me over with fish puns? oh my gog! > X00
AC: :33 < it doesn't matter who i am or aren't s33ing
AC: :33 < i'm not interested in you like that, ok?
CA: wwhat the fuck is it gonna take
CA: i already savved your dirtscrapin hide
CA: wwhy wwouldnt you be interested
CA: fuckin worked for that fakey fake mage dickhead
AC: :33 < i don't have to explain myself
CA: you knoww for someone so interested in shippin youre kind of a cold fish
AC: :33 < shut up
AC: :33 < leave me alone
CA: i thought wwe had a connection
CA: i thought wwe had something in common nep
CA: wwhy are you shuttin me out
AC: :33 < beclaws i've got something you haven't got
AC: :33 < standards

arsenicCatnip [AC] blocked caligulasAquarium [CA]

Is it terribly OC for Nepeta to show a little backbone in this kind of circumstance? Didn't really feel right Eridan not getting the rollicking he so ripely deserves. Hm.

I'm not sure which part of this is my favorite: Nepeta's last barb, or the idea of "unclammy" being an insult among seatrolls.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@appositeNautilus: I totally missed this one, but it's great. Too bad Eridan was being such a... an Eridan, because he's the first person I've noticed to ever remember that Nepeta's roleplay self probably has two mouths.

@ceruleanTresses: Nice take, using the transhumans, and all around well done! I suppose I would have appreciated some sort of plot but sadly, alt session things like this rarely resolve them.

[ProspitDreamer]

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Unsolicited redrom fic? I guess this goes here.

Miscellaneous warnings: bad emulation of typing quirks, poor structure, blind perspective, third-wheeling, Karkat being Karkat, innapropriately timed laughter and a surprise kiss!
Pairing: Karkat/Terezi
Situated around and about when Sollux went blind and then woke up.

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'Ok4y guys, th3 po1nt of h1de 4nd s33k 1s to m4k3 yours3lf h4rd to f1nd.' The tap-tapping footsteps of the blind echoed through the lab halls. 'Th1s tra1l of must4rdy blood 1s l1ke 4 fr34k1ng...' Terezi paused. Being blind wasn't great for metaphors that involved sight. '.. tr41l of sm3lly of must4rdy blood.' She finished, climbing off the last step.
'TEREZI?!' Karkat's voice cracked slightly, almost on hysterical edge.
'Hey TZ.' Sollux was here too.
'Do you know 4ny oth3r bl1nd g1rls w1th 4 nos3 4s good 4s m1ne?' She grinned, anticipating a good bout of flirty banter with some extra snarky commentary from the newly-blinded Sollux.
She wasn't expecting Karkat to run up to her and embrace her so hard that she half-choked.
'Wark!'
'YOU'RE OKAY OH GOD OH GOD YOU'RE OKAY'
'Why wouldn't 1 b3?' the reply was slightly breathless, not as snarky as usual. Terezi blamed the lack of air.
He ignored the snark, clinging like a limpet and muttering.
'OH MY GOD I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU I'M SO SORRY DON'T EVER GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AGAIN I SWEAR IF YOU RUN OFF AGAIN I'LL FUCKING HANG YOU AND THEN MYSELF OH GOD TEREZI'
'G33, 1t 4lmost sounds l1k3 you m1ss3d m3, h3h3h3h3!' Terezi gave a comforting pat that was also an attempt to ease up his grip. He didn't budge.
'MISS YOU?'
He raised his head. Terezi could smell watery cherries. Was he crying?
'I WAS FUCKING SCARED FOR YOUR LIFE. THERE IS A FUCKING MURDER RUMPUS PARTY AND OUR SPECIES IS ABOUT TO GO EXTINCT AND THEN YOU GO MISSING, PRESUMABLY WANDERING STRAIGHT INTO THE FUCKING JAWS OF MURDERDEATH.'
A pause to draw ragged breath. The smell of tears was overwhelming, but they didn't smell like sorrow..
'MISS YOU?!?!'
They smelt like...
'I FUCKING LOVE YOU. WHAT DO YOU THINK?!'
.. relief?
A pair of gnawed lips pressed against her own. Cherries. There was no masking the smell at this range. Bright cherry red blood and faint cherry tears. It was dizzying and delicious and somewhere inside her, she felt a warm bubbling feeling.
Terezi's arms wrapped tightly around him, soothing some of the terror trembles as she kissed him back. They stayed like that, essentially frozen, for a long time.

An awkward cough came from the distance. Oh yeah, that guy was still around.
'S0, are y0u guys now..?'
'DON'T EVEN FINISH THAT SENTENCE.'
Terezi laughed. Karkat could shout even now? That was adorable.
Even Sollux grinned at this.
'I AM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU'RE BLIND NOW. EVEN IF IT MEANS THAT GIVING YOU A MIGHTY 'FUCK YOU' SALUTE IS MEANINGLESS.'
Both of them were laughing now.
'WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?'
Practically hysterical.
'FUCKING BLIND SEERS.'
Terezi gave him a kiss on the cheek. He didn't protest.
His face just flushed a little brighter, the smell of cherries intensifying.
Being flushed suited him, Terezi thought.

This was very cute. Anything that throws Karkat off balance is entertaining.

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@ProspitDreamer: This was excellent! Especially Rose's internal narration nitpicking her "um"s. Though it was a bit rougher in the early-middle, when Rose was trying to explain her feelings to the reader and started off by listing why she didn't like the others. That made the rest of it seem like she was only with Kanaya because she was out of options. As this wasn't the intent I didn't find it hard to shrug but I think a few paragraphs should ideally be swapped around, imho.

Thank you for your criticism! I will keep this in mind because my intention was for Rose be using the "inevitability" of her choice as an excuse to justify her true feelings, not to make the reader think that was actually going on. Several layers of denial are almost as hard to write as several layers of irony.

Nepeta Leijon / Jack Noir

Curiosity

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"Whats that?" she asks for the fiftieth goddamn time.

"It's a parking ticket." you say tiredly.

Honestly you have no idea where the fuck she came from or why she's here. All you know is that she isn't one of this sessions players and she has been following you around acting like a lost kitten for the last week or so.

She also has the disturbing habit of sleeping on your legs at night. Three hours of sleep does not a happy Jack make.

"Is that a lamp?" she asks.

"Yes." You say, focusing on your endless paperwork.

"Is that a fountain pen?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get it?"

"A friend."

A door opens but you're too tired to care.

"Ooh, is this your girlfriend?"

You take a quick look over your shoulder and see the Black Queen.

"Yes." You say, returning to your work.

Five seconds later your brain catches up with what you said.

You slowly turn around.

"Your majesty."

"Jack."

She contemplates him for a second.

"Come to my office in twenty minutes. There's something we need to discuss."

"Yes ma'am."

She walks over to the girl and scratches behind her horn. "Good kitty." she murmurs and then leaves.

Goddamn cats.

This was adoracute. There is no better word.

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I've lurked around long enough without actually signing up or posting anything, I think. So here, have a (link to) my currently only completed fanfic, along with a handful of prompts from that generator that I thought were amusing but beyond my skill/confidence level to take on myself.

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More because I'm still new here and am paranoid than any real reason... I'm linking to its posting on AO3..."Irritating Injuries" at AO3

Okay, now for those prompts from the generator before I go back and hide in my little newbie corner of timidity.

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John Egbert / Gamzee Makara
Funhouse


John Egbert / Dad
After School

Cal / Dave Strider
Secret

Eridan Ampora / Jade Harley
Queer

And now that that's done, I'm just going to go stick my nose in the corner 'til my embarrassment's gone.

Hi there, fellow newbie! You should give yourself a little more credit- your story was great! I'd say you described the inside of Karkat's mind very well. My favorite thing was how he couldn't wait to heal so he'd have the strength to yell again.

@ Roger Mexico: I would be happy with either, though I am more curious about what Rose would do with the fact that she has royal purple blood.

[Domoz]

Oh, well.
More of this musclebeast shit.

The Pirate and the Empress
4/????

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The clouds do eventually part ways with the heavens, a bit later then everyone would have liked. The edge of the sky is already beginning to lighten, and the stars are dimming with every passing moment.
But one clear glance is enough for Dualscar; he sets the ship on a northwestern course and takes the wheel from Paris, who grumbles and complains, but none the less lets it go.

The sun inches it's way higher into the sky, and most every troll goes bellow deck. Ianthe has to stop her struggle against the rope. She instead resigns herself to examining the pirates ogling at her.

The the first she sees is a brown blood, by the looks of his symbol. He has huge horns that would be a nuisance to the trolls around him, if only he didn't tower above everyone else. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's staring at Ianthe, he just looks on with a muddled grin on his face. He speaks with the troll next to him, who is the second troll the Empress examines.

He's more furtive about his glances at Ianthe, but it's still fairly obvious. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his horns are incredibly small. It's hard for the Empress to place his blood color, his symbol is colored grey, but she decides it's probably lower on the spectrum; what with the way he's cussing.

Speaking of those lower on the spectrum, Ianthe's mind wanders until she begins thinking about the other low blood. The one with ram's horns, and ,apparently, psonic powers.
Could it be possible, the Empress muses, that the girl was a strong enough psychic to put high bloods to sleep? Even herself?

Food for thought as Ianthe sits still on the floor. She can't go about escaping quite yet, what with all the pirates around.

She eventually finds herself thinking about the captain himself. Something about Dualscar simply drives Ianthe mad. Oh, of course there is the kidnapping, but the more she thought about it, the more the Empress realizes that there is more to it.

It is despite the fact he is a pirate; even though he is nothing but the most base of criminal scum, he still caries himself with dignity, still manages to be polite.

The way Ahab does it is wrong, it's not the way a pirate is supposed to act. Pirates are supposed to be crass, rude and just all around a bunch a dirty scoundrels. He's not, and that is infuriating.



The ship skips across the waves, making record time if only anyone cared enough to recognize such a thing.

No one could possibly give less of a damn, anyone with anything to worry about it far more busy attending to the calls of “land ho!” The sails slacken once again, and the ship is expertly piloted to rest at a deserted pier.

Nearly every pirate, Dualscar, Ariel, Paris, and almost every other leaves the ship and heads towards the empty streets of the city. They all know the drill, take what you can and burn what you can't, although in this situation the burning is to be kept to a minimum.

Only one pirate stays on board to watch the Empress. He leans on the wall and crosses his arm.
“Hey”, he says with a grin, “My name is Rufio”


Ahab strides past his crew and into the center of of town. As captain it is his responsibly to find one thing and one thing only. A map.

He quickly reaches the town square and finds a store marked with a sign reading “Finch's Cartography”. The door is locked but does not stay that way for very long under the force of Dualscar's boot. He enters, grabs the first paper he sees, and unrolls it. It is a map, and a rather fancy one at that. The Orpahner rolls the parchment back up and grabs a compass to go with it.

Ahab turns to leave only to find himself face to sword with a trembling young troll He says with a smirk, “Ah, you must be Finch?”

The green blood nods, shaking all the harder. “Well”, Dualscar says, “You're quite good at your craft, I'll give you that. It almost makes me wish I could pay you for this map”

He pushes the sword aside, then goes past the mapmaker and out the door. Finch finally sputters out, “W-w- no you can't-”, but the pirate is already gone.

Gone being more of a relative term, Dualscar is in fact going back to his ship. He watches as his crew loads up goods from the nearby warehouses and into the cargo. Nothing has gone wrong yet and he prays it stays that way.

On the way back he pauses for a moment when a familiar glint catches his eye. A harpoon gun leans on a pillar of the pier, shining in the sun. Ahab decides to grab that, as well. He lost his own crosshairs when he was captured, and was missing the familiar weight on his shoulder.

Ianthe watches as pirates come and go to and from her prison, carrying boxes and barrels that are no doubt stolen. Rufio chatters on to the Empress, something about fairies and magic, oblivious to it all.

The ship sets off again without a hitch, much to the dismay of some few trolls watching from the shadows.

A pirate ship, now borne down with supplies and a very important captive, is free in the ocean once again. Dualscar gives Paris control of the wheel and retreats to his cabin with the map; searching it over for a specific island.

Ariel approaches him from behind. “Well,do you have have any plans now?”

Ahab grunts and rubs his chin. “I think we probably hole ourselves up on an island for a week or so, then go back to the capital and give them our demands”

The red blood gives a wry smile, although no one can see. “And where do you you suggest we hide? There's probably not an island for miles around that's not crawling with the navy.”

This elicits a sigh from Dualscar. “I can think of one, but you and everyone else is not going to like it.”

The smile fades back into nothing. Ariel knows already, she always knew. But she asks anyways. “Oh do tell, what island could possibly be so terrible?”

Another sigh from the captain. “Does Boatmurder Island sound like a nice place to you?”

A/N

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Yes
Yes it is Boatmurder Island.

To those of you familiar with the name, no, there are no elephants there. I just thought it was a nice name for a very dangerous island to have.

[penguinbound]

1

Blood Runs Deep
Chapter 2: Displaced Water

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Karkat and Nepeta stood in front of a small, wooden desk, covered with papers. Karkat couldn't help but notice small notches on the edges of the desk, seemingly carved with the knife that was on the opposite edge of the table, pointed at the entrance. The room was empty, save for all the items littered about, so when the two entered, it was kind of confusing. And still, they stood in awkward silence, awaiting the leader of the rebellion they've been fighting for.

Karkat glanced at Nepeta, and noticed how uncomfortable she looked. "What's with you?" Nepeta turned to meet his gaze. She frowned for a minute, and then scratched the back of her neck.

"Well, like, shouldn't he be here by now? Or she maybe. Do you even know who leads this thing?" Karkat blinked, and the shocking revelation was, in fact, no, he had never heard of who the leader of the rebellion was. He frowned, and looked for something to sit on. Everything was still incredibly sore, and he didn't know how he managed to get through that. He found a small, soft chair to sit down on.

"Karkitty, are you okay?" Nepeta asked, finding a similar chair. She pulled the chair up, and sat down next to him. She placed a hand on his forehead, and he slapped it away.

"Okay, for one thing, stop fucking calling me that, it's Karkat. Two, don't even touch me, we hardly know each other, and even then, it's still not okay." Karkat growled, and looked away, studying the assorted things on the wall. Nepeta let out a sound that kind of sounded like a "humph!" He rolled his eyes, and leaned further back into his chair, the soft part comforting his back.

"Well, sorry, Karkat. I think you need to calm down, a little," Nepeta replied after a minute, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at Karkat again. "Why are you even so angry?" Karkat turned to her, and the look on his face could paint pictures by itself.

"You're kidding me, right? This is a war, Nepeta, of course I'm going to be freaking out. I have to deal with all the assholes I'm fighting, plus annoying assholes, and now I have to talk to the leader of the rebellion because I fucked up and got two Trolls killed. Also I got incredibly injured," Karkat growled, his eyes focused on the door. "So I'd rather not have to deal with annoying females who like to call me stupid names. I'm not having one of those retarded sidekicks."

"...Why do I have to be the sidekick?"

"Oh my god, that isn't even the point, why don't you listen?" At that, the door opened, a slick looking Troll walked in, and slowly made his way to the desk chair, only glancing at the two once. He sat down, and leaned backwards. His hair was mildly tame, and his horns curly-cued up into a large sharp end. He wore something over his normal shirt, hiding his symbol from view.

After a few minutes of silence, he leaned forward, and grinned. "So," his voice was as smooth as his appearence. "What are you guys? Matesprits? Kismesis? Moirails," he perked an eyebrow, smiling widely. "You guys look adorable together, really." The two gave him blank looks, with a faint tinge of green on Nepeta's face now.

"What?" Karkat asked, almost disgusted at the thought. The Troll broke out in laughter, and slammed his hand on his desk multiple times. Karkat's mouth dropped open, surprised. Was... was this the leader of the rebellion? This was the man taking them towards a brighter future? Nepeta quickly reached a hand over and closed Karkat's mouth for him.

"Oh, man, that was a hoot," the male leaned back, sighing and wiping his eye. He shook his head, and seemed to calm down. "Alright, now, I assume you're Karkat Vantas, and Nepeta Leijon? If you aren't, you are now, congragulations. Now, on to the reason you're here..." The Troll grabbed the knife, and made another notch on the table edge.

"Excuse me, sir," Nepeta spoke up, staring at the blade as it got into the table edge. "What are those notches for?" The leader was silent for a moment, until he finished, and set the knife back where it had been.

"Those are the number of days we've been fightin' the Empire," the leader smiled, and leaned back in his chair. "Alright, on topic, on topic. Okay, so we've mainly been fighting on the land, since most of our opponents are here, blockin' us from really goin' anywhere. Well, we managed to land ourselves a ship. I'm placin' you two on there, because we've got reports of a ship going around, almost hitting ours." He placed a file on the table, and Karkat grabbed it, opening up to see a Sea Dweller's picture.

"That kid's Eridan Ampora, he owns the boat. Your job is to kill him. Have fun and," he winked. "I'll make sure to get some buckets put onto the boat for you two."

Nepeta spent a good portion of the rest of the hour blushing green.
-
The boat was slowly rocking back and forth, and made Karkat sick to his stomach. God, how he wished he could be anywhere else right now, especially since he'll have to deal with Nepeta the entire way. She somehow managed to stick to him like glue, and clung to his arm, afraid of water, apparently. "I still call bullshit on your 'water phobia.' Seriously, get off my arm." Karkat tried to shake it, and failed to do so.

"B-but, Karkitty!" Nepeta whined, and tossed a peek at the water, before quickly turning back, her eyes as wide as saucers. "I just... I caaaaan't!" She resumed her trembling, and Karkat just grumbled quietly to himself. The walked towards where the Respiteblocks would be, when a crew member passed by.

"Oh! There you are! You're Karkat and Nepeta, correct? Welcome aboard. I'll be in the block right next to yours. Hey, just a quick thing," the Troll poked Karkat's shoulder. "Don't make too much noise when you're fillin' buckets, alright?" There was an awkward pause for a moment, until the member walked off, laughing. Karkat was going to gut somebody next time they mentioned that. He glanced at Nepeta, and she was completely green again.

"Alright, you know what, can we just sleep, now? I'm tired of you holding my arm like it's the only thing keeping you alive." Karkat grumbled, and awkwardly stumbled into the block, two recuperacoons were placed in different corners, but not filled with sopor. Karkat frowned, and watched as Nepeta quickly bounded in to her bed, after hesitantly letting go of his arm. "Well, that's just fan-fucking-tastic. No sopor, awesome. I mean, it's not like it'd be nice to have dreams and not be scarred by them forever."

"Karkitty, if you want, we could share one," Nepeta offered, gesturing to the one she had claimed. "I'll make sure you don't get scared." Karkat blinked, and sighed.

"No. Just... no." Karkat shook his head, and pointed to the door. "Could you see if we could get some sopor for these? Please?" Nepeta nods, and pops out of her recuperacoon, and dashed for the door, when she stopped. Turning around slowly, Karkat sighed at the frown.

"Um. Can you come with me?" She pleaded, causing a discontent groan from Karkat, he pushed the door open, motioning for her to leave first. Nepeta did so, and as soon as he was out the door, she gripped his arm tight. Grumbling the entire way, Karkat and Nepeta managed to scour the entire ship, and not find any Sopor.

"Well, that's just the shit," Karkat growled, slamming the door behind them when they returned. Nepeta bounded into the 'coon, and crawled into some part of it. "Yeah, you just hide in there, alright? I just want some sleep, now. It's almost night, and any sleep would be appreciated. Okay?"

He thought he heard Nepeta make some sort of sound. To be honest, he had a hard time caring. He climbed into the empty recuperacoon, closed his eyes, and slept.
-
Bullshit.

That was the only thought running through Karkat's head, as he climbed aboard the ship. He had had to swim all the way up to it, since the other ship couldn't risk getting caught. Nepeta was supposed to come with him, but the only way she was going was if she could sit on his head. That was a definite no. So, now, he was by himself going to fight a purple blood who probably had the best equipment. He was fucked beyond all belief, and yet here he was, swimming towards the ship.

N: Karkat! Are you okay??

Karkat stopped, and looked at the waterproof walkie-talkie he had. Dammit, now was not a good time at all.

I'm going to fucking stab her when I get back.

Karkat responded.

K: Yeah, Nepeta, I'm fucking fine. Listen, can you at least not talk to me until I get back?
K: If you talk to me on the ship, I'll get caught.
K: If I get caught, and I don't die, as soon as I make it back, I'll stab you until you die.
K: Are we clear?
N: Yeeeah.
N: See you later, then, I guess!!

Karkat placed his hand on the side of the ship, and grimaced. How the hell was he supposed to get up here again? That was something that was never fully explained to him. Bastards left him to find his own way up. Frowning, he took his sickle out, and jammed a hole in the side, and fit his foot in there, quickly applying another one for his other foot. Stepping up, he made a hand hold, and grabbed so he wouldn't fall. "This shit better not sink while I'm on here, I swear to god." He grumbled, repeating the process to make his way to the top of the ship.

By the time he had made it, he was out of breath. The ship was larger than he had thought, so when he reached the top, he was surprised how tired he was. "Now, where the hell do I find Eridan?" Without warning, a chill seized his back, and he turned around, and his eyes widened. The Troll, Eridan Ampora, stood, a purple streak died into his black hair. He adjusted his glasses, and smirked.

"Right here, rebel scum." Karkat frowned, and pulled his walkie-talkie up.

K: Hey, Nepeta?
K: I found Eridan.

Eridan pulled out a large gun, and tugged his scarf off, tossing his scarf off to the side. "I'd like you to meet Ahab's Crosshairs. He'll be killin' you tonight."

...Bullshit.

[ProspitDreamer]

Okay let me read this thing like I promised : )

I hope you like long fics dude!

In a previous conversation Karkat demanded Suisei return to the lab, only to get jerked around a little bit. Eventually Suisei shows up, where he meets Karkat and Terezi, where the following takes place.

It's very loosely inspired by canon, and even if you think fantrolls are lame and stupid, this is really about Terezi (who's riding pretty high right now on my list of awesome trolls). Suisei is just a foil for her theatrics and I think it worked out pretty well.

Murder Most Foul

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“Murder most…FOUL”. Terezi’s pronouncement dripped like poison into the ears of the assembled members of the accusatory conclave. She faced the steely gaze of the tribunal, but their stalwart button eyes looked through her, unfazed by the scene of the crime. The low, condemning tone of the legislacerator put them at ease. There was comfort in the familiar.

She turned away from the makeshift bench and trotted around the laboratory, scrawling notes into a steno pad. She circled the room once and stopped behind the coroner.

Suisei sat on his ankles next to the body, prodding it with a stick. Rolled out next to him, a brown leather tool kit chock full of stainless steel instruments, powders, and plastic bags awaited their solemn duty. After another minute of examinatory poking, he swapped the assessment baton for a camera. The soft click of a shutter and a flash of brilliant white light pierced the gloom, followed by the whine of a recharging camera flash. He extracted the film and shook it briskly until it became the contorted face of the late Mr. Zahhak.

Terezi peered over his shoulder. She paused, frowned inquisitively, and dabbed the writing tip of a red ballpoint against her tongue. “The fourth one this month”, she announced. After another minute of examinatory sniffing she completed her notes, flipping the cover of the steno pad closed with a flourish. “Connected perhaps?”

Suisei looked up from the body and surveyed the room. Four bodies in total, including that of Equius Zahhak, lay in pools of their own blood, spread out in various unmoving poses on the grey tile of the laboratory floor. Streams of green, yellow, brown and blue converged on a drain in the centre of the room. On a clear wall away from the bodies, a finger-painted, one-word message was scrawled in green, yellow, brown and blue: “HONK”.

He stood up, still eyeing the photo. For a moment the room was silent, except for a faint hollow drip echoing from the drain. He considered the question momentarily before speaking. “I think it is incumbent upon us as professionals to avoid any hasty conclusions”.

“Of course”, she replied flatly. “The good doctor serves the empire most honorably. What do we know about the victims?”

Suisei returned to the evidence collection centre they had set up against a relatively blood-free wall. Photographs of the victims were connected by pins and bits of colored string all leading to a question mark at the centre. He sighed heavily. He planned to spend his afternoon in an intense shipping session, but not like this. Not like this. Tears welled up as he tenderly followed the strings with his fingertips – only the red ones were damp. He wondered what she must have been feeling. “Thank you for your strength Terezi”, he thought to himself. “Thank you”.

He turned to face the room. Terezi and the scalemates awaited his testimony. He swallowed and spoke clearly. “We have identified the victims, and in hemaspectral order, the first victim was Tavros Nitram”.

She licked her finger and turned a page in her steno, then licked the page, then licked her finger again. “It says here the cause of death was asphyxiation?”

“Yes”, he sighed and rubbed his brow. “Manual strangulation. The windpipe was crushed by a studded surface”.

“Your report says tiremarks were found crossing the throat?”

“Yes. Matched against the tread of an abandoned one-wheel device nearby.

“A one-wheel device you say? How INTERESTING.” She made another note and continued. “Please tell the tribunal about the next victim”.

“Sollux Captor. Blunt force trauma to the skull. Blood and hair samples retrieved from a juggling club belong to the victim”.

Terezi raised an eyebrow and dabbed the pen to her lips. “Go on”.

“The third is Nepeta Leijon. Apparently beaten to death by a sack full of two-wheel device horns. Broken claws found tangled in the burlap fit perfectly together with the broken claws of the victim”.

Terezi paced before the bench, pensively slurping. “I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on here”.

Suisei nodded grimly.

“The final victim. How did he die?”

“Equius Zahhak. Either drowning or suffocation but we don’t know for sure. During examination, I removed an empty bottle of Faygo from the throat. There were fingerprints all over it”.

“Faygo? The soda?” Terezi inhaled deeply and faced the cheerless faces of the tribunal. “Something stinks here, and I think we all know what it is”.

“Oh, right”, Suisei continued. “The estimated time of death is…”

“No”, she waved her hand to cut him off. “There’s another sort of foul odor here. The malodorous stench of CONSPIRACY”.

The coroner stopped and watched in anticipation, waiting for the real examination to begin. Terezi turned on her heels and began to pace before the bench. Chairman Nectarbelly, Lieutenant Oliveclaw, Mr. Kiwitail, and Barrister Hollybutt looked on in attentive silence.

“Records discovered on Tavros Nitram’s terminal reveal he was in possession of documents proving the falsification of safety test results from the manufacture of faulty one wheel devices”, she held one hand behind her back as she paced, punctuating her words with the other. “Examination of these records show these were the very same one-wheel devices manuctured in your plant Chairman Nectarbelly!”

She slammed her hands down in front of the terrified Chairman, staring him down. “Tavros attempted to blackmail the Chairman who angrily confronted him, only to discover that Tavros was somewhat unfamiliar with the concept of blackmail and had already sent copies of the files to his press contact.” She continued pacing. “This information would have caused the stock price to plummet, affecting his tenure and personal fortune. The Chairman couldn’t have that now could he? But Tavros was already too much of a threat to be ignored, and so he was brutally dispatched, his death made to look like a tragic accident!”

The Chairman’s eyes pleaded with her to stop.

Terezi’s face softened. She returned to the evidence table and retrieved a glass and a pitcher of water. “Would you like a glass of water Mr. Chairman?”

Nectarbelly’s meek nod would have been invisible to all but the keenest interrogators.
She returned to the bench with a cool glass of water. Nectarbelly’s parched throat ached for relief. She extended the water to him; an unfathomable act of generosity. The chairman quivered in anticipation. She jerked her arm and threw the water in his face, setting the glass down beside him.

“Nectarbelly wasn’t the only one who stood to lose however”, she continued her verbal dissection. “Financial portfolios confiscated from his office revealed the names of others invested in his fraudulent activities. Wasn’t it fortunate for him that Tavros’ press contact was none other than the wife of one of his heaviest investors? A man he counts as one of his closest friends? A man who in fact, sits in this very room today?” She whirled on her heel. “And that man is none other than Lieutenant Oliveclaw!”

Oliveclaw swallowed nervously.

“But Oliveclaw’s wife didn’t know who was implicated in those files. He rushed to the studio, hoping to convince her to help him locate and destroy the evidence. But when he arrived at the newsroom, what did he see through the cracked door but his wife in the arms of a studio techie, our second victim, Sollux Captor”. She paused, and then spoke softly. “Ever since the Lieutenant returned from battle he hasn’t been the same. Trapped in a loveless marriage, who could blame his poor wife for seeking solace in Captor’s warm embrace? So Oliveclaw waited until the evening news had aired and then followed Sollux back to the laboratory, where he brutally attacked him with a prop taken from the set of the Happy Wiggler Fun Time Show. Though many times his size, Mr. Captor was no match in combat for the highly proficient soldier”.

Terezi stopped pacing and turned to meet the desperate eyes of the dishonored officer. “You are a disgrace to that uniform and unfit to serve any longer”. She placed a hand on Oliveclaw’s shoulder, tore off an epaulet and spit in his face.

Suisei pursed his lips and shook his head disapprovingly. Such appalling conduct on behalf of a decorated Alternian hero.

Terezi poured herself a fresh glass of water. She drank half of it and licked her lips before moving on. “Equius Zahhak was the third victim killed, and by comparison his murder was sloppy and amateurish. His hatred for Faygo was well known. Printouts from the lab equipment record work he did analyzing the soda’s formula, which he intended to publish”.

Terezi grabbed a file from the table and held it aloft. “If you knew what was in that caustic soda, you wouldn’t drink it either!” She tossed the file back down, causing the reports to cascade out across the tabletop. “Just like the repugnant Chairman Nectarbelly, money was the motive in this gruesome crime.”

Nectarbelly dripped forlornly.

“Who stands to lose from the loss of sales that would have permanently harmed the soft drink empire?” She asked, and nodded to Suisei.

He grinned and threw her a full bottle of the repellant soda.

She cracked open the bottle. It fizzed over, slopping sticky water on her hand. “Well here you are Mr. Kiwitail, heir to the legendary Faygo Fortune – some of your father’s finest swillwater. Consider it your last meal, for you see it was your fingerprints we lifted from the bottle that killed Mr. Zahhak. Your taste for delicious irony isn’t matched by your taste in beverages”.

Terezi abruptly dropped the theatrics and turned to face the final conspirator. “That brings us to you Barrister Hollybutt”, her words were sharp as daggers. “The fourth victim, Nepeta Leijon, knew all about Equius’ plan. They were moirails you see”, she sniffed and wiped away a single tear. “In a pesterlog stored on Nepeta’s tablet, Equius’ plan is revealed explicitly, including instructions to go to the authorities if anything ever happened to him.” She gritted her teeth and glared at the bright red scalemate. “The pouncillor believed she would be safe taking this information to a fellow champion of the law, but unbeknownst to her this information was a threat to Hollybutt’s plans. Both Chairman Nectarbelly and Mr. Kiwitail are significant contributors to Hollybutt’s election campaign. Private letters discovered under warrant detail plans to grant the industrial giants favorable legislation in return for their generous support. A blow to Mr. Kiwitail would have unraveled the entire plot. To protect his career and aspirations to power, Barrister Hollybutt waited until Nepeta was asleep on the horn pile, and then beat her to death to keep his filthy secret”.

Terezi shuffled back to the table, turning her back to the panel of thoroughly disgraced plushies. Her head drooped between her shoulders, and a single tear splashed against the metal tabletop. “She trusted you Barrister…the public trusted you.”

Suisei quietly walked to her side.

“I trusted you!” She threw herself into his arms and sobbed, burying her face into his chest.

He patted her back, looking over her into the eyes of the reprehensible, cherry-scented bastard, stifling his gag reflex.

Collecting herself, Terezi dried her eyes, determined to finish the accusatory proceedings. “The least obvious detail about the whole case was this”, she motioned to the wall and the message written in blood. “Solidarity. Every culprit had overwhelming motive to protect the others. ‘Honk’ of course is nothing but the initials of the guilty: Hollybutt, Oliveclaw, Nectarbelly, and Kiwitail”. She bowed to collect her accolades. It was done. All that remained was the sentencing.

Suisei shook his head gravely, sizing up the unrepentant scumbags. “I respect your bravery in coming here when your guilt was so obvious. You couldn’t honestly have believed you’d get away with it? Even a no-talent rookie grubshoe could have figured it out!” He crossed his arms and just shook his head.

Terezi returned next to him a moment later, grinning ear to ear. Several coils of rope slung off her shoulder, swaying as she approached the condemned.

Watching her work was such a rare privilege.

Aftermath:

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Ok apparently everybody's fucking retarded except for you.

This was hysterical. I could not stop laughing. There is something really funny and also a little disturbing about watching Terezi play with her dolls. You captured her character perfectly.

[Violet CLM]

Generated prompt: Mom / Eridan Ampora: Camp

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Eridan is used to rejection. Long ago he stopped keeping track of how many trolls had rejected his advances in one quadrant or another, to the point that on occasion he would accidentally proposition the same troll twice and they would have to remind him of that fact. Often, though he tries not to dwell on it, harshly. Occasionally violently. And even in his longest lasting relationships, one pale, one black, he always found himself wanting more, and somehow that led to both of their destructions. Ultimately, in the brief timespan between the moment that he saw Kan's chainsaw begin to whirl a second time and the moment it split him in two, he almost welcomed death, since at the very least it would spare him the risk of being rejected by Jack Noir.

But he hadn't expected the dream bubbles.

Now Eridan wanders the collective unconsciousness that death apparently is. He has cleaned the blood from his torso, because it was inelegant, and has even stolen a new cape from one of his own dreams. He will never understand why so many trolls think fashion is stupid. Of the landdwellers, only Kan ever seemed to understand the magnificence it gives you, but once it became clear that he was interested in doing more than just drafting clothes with her, she rebuffed him. But that was in life, and Eridan is done with life. Unfortunately, life seems equally done with him.

Eridan wanders, searching for dreams to visit. He finds Sollux slumbering in his stupid communal hive, Tavros trying to escape from the horrors of Vriska's quest cocoon through the sweet infinity of sleep, even Karkat, though he cannot determine the origin of that particular dream. All dreams, past, present, and future, are open to him, and yet all are closed to him, the moment their dreamers notice him. Because nobody wants him there. He comes across Terezi reliving the moment she was blinded, but once she realizes it's only a memory, she tells him to leave because she doesn't need more aggravation right now. One of the hardest moments of her life, and still she rejects a bit of companionship to help her through her sudden loss of sight, just because it's him. Because nobody wants Eridan, even when he's dead.

So he goes farther away, beyond the dreams of his immediate friends. Beyond, at last, the dreams of the entire troll species. He finds an alternate space within the dream world that he can determine must belong to the pink wrigglers called humans, picks a bubble, and makes his entrance. He doesn't expect much anymore. Perhaps he will get a little farther with someone who doesn't know him, but still he fully expects to be kicked out of the bubble as soon as the dreamer gets a sense of his personality. The Prince of Hope isn't very hopeful anymore.

He finds himself outside, at night, in the rain. Behind him is the largest hive he's ever seen, entirely white, quite unlike the angular gray monstrosities of the landdwellers he knows from Alternia. Before him are two humans, dressed in black, one tall and one short, smaller even than the wrigglers he and his teammates had been contacting back in the veil. They seem to be observing a stone box. Why come all the way out here and stand in the rain where wild animals could eat them? Humans are so stupid.

As he watches, the taller human turns and sees him. She is not gaudily dressed, but every inch of her clothing is perfect and in just the right place to command respect. He is amazed. She approaches him, and her air of disdain does not put him off because he is so fuckin used to it by now.

"A little horned boy watching a mother's love for her daughter," she says, with a voice that could cut through glass. "Why are you here? Are you the demon that killed my poor little girl's cat?"

"hey no im not into that kinda thin anymore ok" says Eridan. "killins not my style right now too many angry people too many feelins"

"Then what are you doing on my private property?" she asks. "Poor Rose is evidently too distraught to notice you, but I do not take kindly to your invasion of a funeral service."

"roz" he says, puzzled. "are you tellin me that wweepin wwriggler ovver there is the fuckin roz kid"

Before he can say another word he has been seized by the collar and hoisted bodily upwards. If he possessed the abysmal anatomy of a landdweller he might be struggling to breathe right now. "You will watch your mouth about my dearest daughter in her time of loss," says the tall human who is evidently Rose's mo...ther? Mom? Eridan is not very good with those stupid human terms for their abhorrent lusus.

"look lady i dont givve a flyin glub about her stupid time a loss okay" he says. "this isnt the real funeral either yknoww its just a memory a it youre havving in a dream"

The mom looks confused for a moment, and their surroundings shift to what Eridan surmises is the inside of the big white hive. The tiny version of Rose is walking grimly around the house, packing strange things into a suitcase, and the mom, still holding Eridan aloft, is watching her.

"A dream..." she says, slowly. "Yes, you're right. These are memories. The funeral was weeks ago. Rose continued to be hopelessly inconsolate, and after a time, I arranged for her to be sent to a camp for young women of her age. She is gone now -- this was today -- and I took to the wine and now I am sleeping." Certainty returns to her features. "But I ask again, what are you doing here, little demon?"

"i dont know what a fuckin demon is but im not one a them" says Eridan. "an if shes feeling dowwn you should probably just get her a pony or somethin chicks dig horses" He smiles for a moment at the thought of happier times and the horses that littered Fef's palace underseas and how much she always loved his lusus -- more than she ever loved him, that's for sure -- when she visited him.

"A pony..." The mom seems to consider it. "That is not a bad idea, young demon, though she may still be too young for such a responsibility. Perhaps I will acquire for her an animal of that sort when she is older, to show her how proud I am of her ascent into young adulthood."

"yeah great you go fuckin do that" says Eridan, who is beginning to doubt he will ever be put back down. Perhaps the stupid mom creature has simply forgotten that she is still holding him in the air. "so wwhats this conchsuck nonsense about roz being hopeless anyhoww she wwas alwways purposeful as anythin wwhen she got older"

"Older?" Puzzle pieces are rapidly sorting themselves into place in the mom's mind, and Eridan wonders just how much more she knows than she is letting on in this dream bubble. "You are a friend of Rose's from some time in the future, then?"

"wwell i wwouldnt say friends i guess she kinda hates my guts noww but evveryone does really so im not too put out about it and shes kinda a looker for a human i mean"

The scene shifts again. The young Rose is sitting stiffly upright in an enormous soft thing -- he thinks the humans call them "beds" -- looking at photos of one of those little hunter animals Nep likes so much. The mom is watching her silently, and Eridan is standing beside her, no longer held up by his collar.

"You're saying..." the mom's voice is faltering. "...you're saying she gets better, then? She's been depressed ever since her cat died. She does nothing but look at photos of him and write MEOW, over and over again, in one of her journals. She's given up all hope for the future and I don't know how to get through to her anymore. I sent her to camp in hope she might find a new interest there to keep her going."

Eridan isn't too interested in all this flighty broad stuff about cats and journals, but there is one word he picks up on. "hey i am the fuckin prince of hope" he says, "an long as im stuck in this stupid dream bubble wworld i might as wwell make myself useful"

Not waiting for the mom to reply, Eridan leaves the dream bubble and begins searching for one of Roz's, from when she is at this "camp" thing the mom mentioned. If she wants Roz to develop some sort of new interest, there is no one better qualified than himself to give her one that should carry her right on past this stupid cat thing. So much grief over a little thing like an animal dying is fuckin ridiculous, anyway. The Roz he knows would never make such a big deal out of nothing.

When he finds the bubble, he is ready. The wand that Kan made him is glowing brightly, his cape has been scienced up to billow without any wind, and his hair has never looked more dramatic. It stands up straight like a sort of tall, pointy hat. He has even come up with an impressive new name to strike wonder into the think pan of the stupidest human. He strides in, and the young version of Roz breaks out of her apathetic stupor to stare at him in bewilderment.

"tremble you little mortal wwriggler" he says, lifting the glowing wand aloft. "the almighty wwizard zazzerpan demands some fuckin respect around here"

p.s. C20710: there is perhaps nothing more wonderful than terezi's rampant insanity.
ETA thoughts on Eridan's "finding his purpose" only after death:

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The thing some people don't realize about Eridan -- including, of course, Eridan himself -- is that he's incredibly dedicated and absolutely everything he does is for the best. He feeds Vriska's dreams of being like her ancestor, prepares Feferi to deal with Sollux's grumpiness (and keeps her lusus and thus the entire species alive practically single-handedly), later reunites Feferi with her horrorterrors, makes Kanaya into a vampire, gives Jade his legendary weapon so it can be added to the bunny, takes away Sollux's crippling bipolar disorder, etc. I wouldn't be at all surprised if even all that angel killing turned out to be a good thing in the end. He just has zero people skills to manage it.

[ceruleanTresses]

@Violet CLM: That was awesome beyond words.

@SkaianRedeemer: Thanks! Sadly I am no good at plot, so I figured I'd just make it a character study or whatever you call it.

[Rimbaum]

Generated prompt: Mom / Eridan Ampora: Camp

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Eridan is used to rejection. Long ago he stopped keeping track of how many trolls had rejected his advances in one quadrant or another, to the point that on occasion he would accidentally proposition the same troll twice and they would have to remind him of that fact. Often, though he tries not to dwell on it, harshly. Occasionally violently. And even in his longest lasting relationships, one pale, one black, he always found himself wanting more, and somehow that led to both of their destructions. Ultimately, in the brief timespan between the moment that he saw Kan's chainsaw begin to whirl a second time and the moment it split him in two, he almost welcomed death, since at the very least it would spare him the risk of being rejected by Jack Noir.

But he hadn't expected the dream bubbles.

Now Eridan wanders the collective unconsciousness that death apparently is. He has cleaned the blood from his torso, because it was inelegant, and has even stolen a new cape from one of his own dreams. He will never understand why so many trolls think fashion is stupid. Of the landdwellers, only Kan ever seemed to understand the magnificence it gives you, but once it became clear that he was interested in doing more than just drafting clothes with her, she rebuffed him. But that was in life, and Eridan is done with life. Unfortunately, life seems equally done with him.

Eridan wanders, searching for dreams to visit. He finds Sollux slumbering in his stupid communal hive, Tavros trying to escape from the horrors of Vriska's quest cocoon through the sweet infinity of sleep, even Karkat, though he cannot determine the origin of that particular dream. All dreams, past, present, and future, are open to him, and yet all are closed to him, the moment their dreamers notice him. Because nobody wants him there. He comes across Terezi reliving the moment she was blinded, but once she realizes it's only a memory, she tells him to leave because she doesn't need more aggravation right now. One of the hardest moments of her life, and still she rejects a bit of companionship to help her through her sudden loss of sight, just because it's him. Because nobody wants Eridan, even when he's dead.

So he goes farther away, beyond the dreams of his immediate friends. Beyond, at last, the dreams of the entire troll species. He finds an alternate space within the dream world that he can determine must belong to the pink wrigglers called humans, picks a bubble, and makes his entrance. He doesn't expect much anymore. Perhaps he will get a little farther with someone who doesn't know him, but still he fully expects to be kicked out of the bubble as soon as the dreamer gets a sense of his personality. The Prince of Hope isn't very hopeful anymore.

He finds himself outside, at night, in the rain. Behind him is the largest hive he's ever seen, entirely white, quite unlike the angular gray monstrosities of the landdwellers he knows from Alternia. Before him are two humans, dressed in black, one tall and one short, smaller even than the wrigglers he and his teammates had been contacting back in the veil. They seem to be observing a stone box. Why come all the way out here and stand in the rain where wild animals could eat them? Humans are so stupid.

As he watches, the taller human turns and sees him. She is not gaudily dressed, but every inch of her clothing is perfect and in just the right place to command respect. He is amazed. She approaches him, and her air of disdain does not put him off because he is so fuckin used to it by now.

"A little horned boy watching a mother's love for her daughter," she says, with a voice that could cut through glass. "Why are you here? Are you the demon that killed my poor little girl's cat?"

"hey no im not into that kinda thin anymore ok" says Eridan. "killins not my style right now too many angry people too many feelins"

"Then what are you doing on my private property?" she asks. "Poor Rose is evidently too distraught to notice you, but I do not take kindly to your invasion of a funeral service."

"roz" he says, puzzled. "are you tellin me that wweepin wwriggler ovver there is the fuckin roz kid"

Before he can say another word he has been seized by the collar and hoisted bodily upwards. If he possessed the abysmal anatomy of a landdweller he might be struggling to breathe right now. "You will watch your mouth about my dearest daughter in her time of loss," says the tall human who is evidently Rose's mo...ther? Mom? Eridan is not very good with those stupid human terms for their abhorrent lusus.

"look lady i dont givve a flyin glub about her stupid time a loss okay" he says. "this isnt the real funeral either yknoww its just a memory a it youre havving in a dream"

The mom looks confused for a moment, and their surroundings shift to what Eridan surmises is the inside of the big white hive. The tiny version of Rose is walking grimly around the house, packing strange things into a suitcase, and the mom, still holding Eridan aloft, is watching her.

"A dream..." she says, slowly. "Yes, you're right. These are memories. The funeral was weeks ago. Rose continued to be hopelessly inconsolate, and after a time, I arranged for her to be sent to a camp for young women of her age. She is gone now -- this was today -- and I took to the wine and now I am sleeping." Certainty returns to her features. "But I ask again, what are you doing here, little demon?"

"i dont know what a fuckin demon is but im not one a them" says Eridan. "an if shes feeling dowwn you should probably just get her a pony or somethin chicks dig horses" He smiles for a moment at the thought of happier times and the horses that littered Fef's palace underseas and how much she always loved his lusus -- more than she ever loved him, that's for sure -- when she visited him.

"A pony..." The mom seems to consider it. "That is not a bad idea, young demon, though she may still be too young for such a responsibility. Perhaps I will acquire for her an animal of that sort when she is older, to show her how proud I am of her ascent into young adulthood."

"yeah great you go fuckin do that" says Eridan, who is beginning to doubt he will ever be put back down. Perhaps the stupid mom creature has simply forgotten that she is still holding him in the air. "so wwhats this conchsuck nonsense about roz being hopeless anyhoww she wwas alwways purposeful as anythin wwhen she got older"

"Older?" Puzzle pieces are rapidly sorting themselves into place in the mom's mind, and Eridan wonders just how much more she knows than she is letting on in this dream bubble. "You are a friend of Rose's from some time in the future, then?"

"wwell i wwouldnt say friends i guess she kinda hates my guts noww but evveryone does really so im not too put out about it and shes kinda a looker for a human i mean"

The scene shifts again. The young Rose is sitting stiffly upright in an enormous soft thing -- he thinks the humans call them "beds" -- looking at photos of one of those little hunter animals Nep likes so much. The mom is watching her silently, and Eridan is standing beside her, no longer held up by his collar.

"You're saying..." the mom's voice is faltering. "...you're saying she gets better, then? She's been depressed ever since her cat died. She does nothing but look at photos of him and write MEOW, over and over again, in one of her journals. She's given up all hope for the future and I don't know how to get through to her anymore. I sent her to camp in hope she might find a new interest there to keep her going."

Eridan isn't too interested in all this flighty broad stuff about cats and journals, but there is one word he picks up on. "hey i am the fuckin prince of hope" he says, "an long as im stuck in this stupid dream bubble wworld i might as wwell make myself useful"

Not waiting for the mom to reply, Eridan leaves the dream bubble and begins searching for one of Roz's, from when she is at this "camp" thing the mom mentioned. If she wants Roz to develop some sort of new interest, there is no one better qualified than himself to give her one that should carry her right on past this stupid cat thing. So much grief over a little thing like an animal dying is fuckin ridiculous, anyway. The Roz he knows would never make such a big deal out of nothing.

When he finds the bubble, he is ready. The wand that Kan made him is glowing brightly, his cape has been scienced up to billow without any wind, and his hair has never looked more dramatic. It stands up straight like a sort of tall, pointy hat. He has even come up with an impressive new name to strike wonder into the think pan of the stupidest human. He strides in, and the young version of Roz breaks out of her apathetic stupor to stare at him in bewilderment.

"tremble you little mortal wwriggler" he says, lifting the glowing wand aloft. "the almighty wwizard zazzerpan demands some fuckin respect around here"

p.s. C20710: there is perhaps nothing more wonderful than terezi's rampant insanity.

THIS IS MY NEW HEADCANON.

[appositeNautilus]

@Violet CLM: Awesome! I like the idea of Eridan finally finding his purpose as the Prince after death.

[Sporkaganza]

Feferi Peixes / Eridan Ampora

Cards

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Eridan Ampora looked at the deck of cards as he held it in his hand.

He had never been very fond of cards, but he did appreciate the symbolism. The suits of the cards - hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs - represented the different quadrants. Whatever hand you were dealt was fate, but it was your job to figure out how to play.

He could hold, for instance, the King of Hearts or the King of Spades in his hand, or even the Kings of Diamonds and Clubs, and imagine that one of these could be him. Hopefully, of course, he could be all of them, so the symbolism wasn't perfect. But he could imagine himself in their royal place, and consider himself an equal to them in matters of romance.

There were other cards he was interested in, of course. The mischievous and unpredictable Queen of Spades or the meddlesome but kind Queen of Clubs, for instance... or the unknown quantity, the Queen (or Jack?) of Hearts. But one card in particular was of more immediate concern:

The Queen of Diamonds.

It had been simple enough to him. The luck of the draw had yielded a pair: The King and Queen of Diamonds. He thought he had played it right, but it seemed as though someone trumped him after all. The deuce of hearts, maybe?

Whatever the case, Eridan hadn't won that game.

Eridan had never won a card game in his entire life.

He used to tell himself that his luck would turn around eventually. He told himself that it always did in cards. Just one more game; perhaps some cheating is in order.

wwhat if i lose? some dark corner of himself always asked in return.

He had always shoved that question to some other part of his mind before, but that dark corner of himself had always had an unspoken answer:

then ill lose on my owwn terms

And it looked as though he was losing.

Eridan dropped the deck of cards. He drew his wand.

lets get this showw on the road

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Eridan trades terrible fish puns for terrible card game puns. I apologize. Also, kind of a weird parallel to Rose with the whole losing on your own terms thing. They can actually be kind of spookily alike at times.

[C20710]

dawwwwww, when it rains it pours. I appreciate the comments guys, really! It's just what I needed right now, hehe.

I'll do another round of commenting tomorrow I think when I'm awake enough to do so meaningfully. The thread'll die soon with all these generator pairings! lol.

Jazz Jackrabbit still rules. I feel myself failing to resist the urge to play it again. Man, time is at such a premium.

[ceruleanTresses]

Okay, we need Babby Doc Scratch fic posthaste.

(HE HAS A WITTLE BOW TIE. AAAHHH SQUEE)

[Cathartes]

Alright, this is something I got in all honesty. I am not making any religious statements about this or anything. If anyone is offended by this, I will take it down as soon as I hear it's a big deal. But god, this is just too weird and also adorable...

Vodka Mutini (Mutie) / Vodka Mutini (Mutie)

Anti-Christ

[ceruleanTresses]

Vodka Mutini (Mutie) / Vodka Mutini (Mutie)

Anti-Christ

Oh god this must be written.
THE BEASTS WALK THE EARTH.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Domoz: Ah, now you've got it. My favourite part was Rufio, and the way that my first thought after his greeting was "he's just to hold a normal conversation with her, isn't he?" and yup. Yes he did.

@penguinbound: I really got a lot more into the AU with this chapter than the last one. I'd like to be able to say "It was because of X" just to be constructive and helpful but I'm afraid I just can't put my finger on it. The dialogue, perhaps?

@VioletCLM: I hope you continue this because you just gave Eridan the best entrance in all of Homestuck. Jack burst in, destroyed the Endgame and a thousand Aradiabots, but no, Eridan bursting into a poor little girl's dream in full-on wizard mode spouting non-dramatic lines is the best one ever and demands more detail!


I'm currently suffering under that classic Fanfic Author's Crisis of AU vs Original Work. It is most irritating, as ever.

[Rio]

A Rose By Any Other Name

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Perhaps I would be very different had someone else been the one to use the codes and a few paradox clones. Perhaps I would be less enigmatic, as fun as it is. None the less, I owe her my life and I know that quite well. Her condescending smirk refuses to let me forget. But I've grown to accept the facts. Snowman, the exiled queen, is very much my mother.

I do not call her this in anything but my thoughts. I am not so foolish as to do so- near omniscient I may be but the Queen is a frightening lady, and only Lord English can truly say things like that without gaining her wrath. Then again, among the Felt, only Crowbar manages to avoid her anger for the most part. Not even the lucky Clover can escape. And even then, sometimes Crowbar actually gets worse treatment than the rest.

But as much as she is angry, she is wise, calculating and elegant. It is who she was, and always will be. Even without her crown, Mother is a queen. After all, a rose by any other name is just as sweet. Isn't that right Mother?

NOTES

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A short thing indulging my new head canon of Doc Scratch calling Snowman his mother. At least in his head.
Yes he asks her questions in his mind. He really doesnt expect them to ever be answered, or they answer themselves.
Yeah I don't even know.