MSPA Fanfiction VI: Trashy Rainbow Drinker Fanfiction

[lucidSeraph]

@Raikonos: YAY! FANTASTIC! One minor gripe: I think the last transition isn't as clear as it could be (ie, the parallels between the kids and their previous incarnations aren't quite as strong as they should be) but still. SO. COOOOOOOL.

[Senamoj]

So I was taking the AP English Literature test the other day, and while working through the multiple choice section, I came across an interesting piece of writing. I immediately recognized it as having been plagiarized from an old book of Alternian poetry I once read and quickly took note of the title and author so I could look it up when I returned home. While I was unable to locate the book I found the original poem in, I luckily managed to remember most of it. I have restored it to its former glory here for your reading pleasure.

A Blessing
by /James Wright/ Equius Zahhak

Just off the Highway to /Rochester, Minnesota/ Hiveblock 7492
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two /Indian ponies/ Alternian musclebeasts
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my /friend/ moirall and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple /tensely/ STRONGLY, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet /swans/ winged waterbeasts. They /love/ are in flushed romance with each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At /home/ hive once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my STRONG arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a /girl's/ female troll’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into /blossom/ an e%tremely intense sweat.

[Raikonos]

@Raikonos: YAY! FANTASTIC! One minor gripe: I think the last transition isn't as clear as it could be (ie, the parallels between the kids and their previous incarnations aren't quite as strong as they should be) but still. SO. COOOOOOOL.

I did that whole succession of pesterlogs at the beginning to establish that /// means the Scratch, and I had Saiivux's line in the middle to smooth the transition, but looking back on it it does kind of happen pretty quickly. Maybe I should have focused on the trolls as well?

[SkaianRedeemer]

@ArmsAreLoud: I am tripping over all the missing close quotes in this, c'mon! You can clearly format better than this.

@PingZing: Thought it was funny how Tarfus was internally lecturing Lucida about turning her back considering how things turned out.

[ArmsAreLoud]

Actually SR, I always have a problem with formatting

Formatting is the enemy

I'll go back and see if I can fix everything now.

[SkaianRedeemer]

Well, I figured based on your sentence structure and the like, and you were consistent with quirks, and there was never a point where I wasn't able to follow Karkat's narrative, so I'd say you did format well! Except the quote marks. They were just missing. I'm sure you can clear them up from there!

[ArmsAreLoud]

Anything that touches the BBCode is what I have a problem with. The BBCode makes me think "OK yeah sentence over" and I forget the quote marks.

Please refer to my user title.

[Coryn Sken]

i approve of this.

[icu2jimy]

i approve of this.

Indeed.

[draconicAlgorithm]

I'm working on stuff but until I get something done here's a quick Pokemon thing. Because I named all my Pokemon in White after HS characters (except for Kamina, but he's still Bro in my heart), and this occurrence was just too funny to pass up.

Unovastuck: Karkat Vs. Throh and Sawk

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For what seemed like an eternity, Karkat only saw black.

He was okay with it, though. It wasn't a terrifying darkness, like the Outer Ring, where the Horrorterrors dwelled. It was more of a soothing, calm darkness, like a pleasant sleep in a cozy recuperacoon. But, unlike that, there was also the constant feeling of anticipation. Like any moment he would be broken out of that quiescent darkness and be expected to fight and win.

And then, as suddenly as he was anticipating, the sphere of darkness was broken, ripped in two by a wave of bright light, and he was thrust back into the world once more. Wings caught stagnant air; a hardened beak snapped closed in determination; talons scraped the iron flooring. He was fucking ready to rip apart whatever was thrown at him.

Although it was Karkat's first big battle, he was well aware he wasn't given much leeway. He might be newly evolved, because Rufflets evolved so late into Braviaries, but he was in the big leagues, facing the Elite Four. It didn't help that he was the newbie on the team, either, but he would prove himself. He was fucking born ready to do this.

A flash of light and his opponent was revealed. It was a red-skinned, humanoid Pokemon, clothed in the stereotypical garb of a human karate master or some such shit. Didn't matter. He'd wiped the floor with Throhs as a Rufflet, just a tiny ball of fluff with a tidy fifty levels. But now he was a Braviary, twice the size and twice the strength. Fucker wouldn't know what hit him.

"Karkat, use Fly!" Jade's familiar voice rang out behind him, and he was happy to comply. Standard procedure, nothing out of the ordinary there.

"Throh, use Stone Edge!" That startled Karkat a bit. He'd forgotten that quickly that he wasn't facing a wild Throh anymore. This one had a trainer, just like he did, and if that attack hit—

The Throh dug crimson fingers into the steel floor of the platform. As it did, a wave of light converted the steel to stone, and with a grunt of effort, the Throh ripped up a chunk of it. Another bellow and the rock was sent flying straight towards Karkat in an imminent collision course.

No sweat. Karkat flapped his wings and broke into the air, the rock passing harmlessly beneath him. A Throh was too slow to catch a Braviary in the air. Karkat gained altitude, flying to the very top of the enclosed cage of the stadium, and then dropped like a bullet, his claws at the ready. At the last second, he pulled his wings up, slowing his descent enough to keep from splattering on the floor, but not enough to miss the Throh. He caught it head on, sending it sprawling backwards several feet. As he soared around the ring once and landed nimbly, his opponent didn't stir. It was down for the count. It was retrieved in a flash of red light.

Inwardly, Karkat smirked. He could do this, no problem. This guy's specialty was Fighting types, and he could take each and every one of them head on. There was no way Karkat could lose.

The next Pokemon released looked like Throh's blue twin brother. A little taller, but otherwise identical. Karkat had never seen one before, but it didn't bother him. He beat the first one, he could beat this one.

"Same tactic, Karkat!" Jade called. Karkat obliged. He readied his wings to take off.

"Sawk, use Stone Edge!" Same for it as well? This would be too easy. Karkat flapped his wings, expecting to fly easily over the shard of stone sailing his way—

Only to get caught head-on in the chest. The wind was knocked out of him and he was pushed backwards onto the ground, the slab shattering over top of him. Apparently, a Sawk was faster than a Throh. Faster than a Braviary, too. He fought to hold on to consciousness, but the pain was too much. He blacked out.

What had to of been some time later, Karkat awoke to the familiar sweet smell of a Revive. He remembered them from back when he was training as a Rufflet and he'd gotten knocked out by a Boufallant. He blinked, feeling his strength return. Jade looked down at him apologetically.

"Sorry, but I didn't have a chance to heal you during the battle. But don't worry! We still won. Dave was able to take care of the rest of them!" Karkat's blood froze. Dave. Dave. Fucking Dave Strider finished off the battle that was supposed to be his. He whipped his head around, and there was the Serperior, looking so fucking smug with his blackglasses that were so fucking pointless. He waved his leaf-tipped tail lazily.

"Better luck next time, Vantas. Maybe then you won't black out when a dumbass in pajamas throws a couple rocks at you."

"STRIIIIIDEEERRRRR!" Luckily, Jade had the sense to return Dave to his Pokeball and did her best to soothe Karkat, but it didn't help much. It would be a long, long time before his pride stopped stinging from this defeat and comeuppance.

A long time.

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That was, unfortunately, blow-for-blow what happened. Faster than a Throh, slower than a Sawk. And Karkat had seven levels on it, too. Poor guy.

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything in my party but Dave that stood a chance. I felt a little bad, but it made for a really funny scenario in my head, and I just had to share it.

Also I'm playing as myself, not Jade, in the game, but I just thought it seemed funnier with Jade as the trainer.

EDIT: Pfft, I totally forgot about the Ka-mina --> Leslie Nielsen filter. Oh well.

[Blueberry]

Also, I'm going to merge this with the existing fanfiction thread. I thought about Lyric Rewrites but since it's a poem and not a song it'll go with the non-musical writings.

[Doodled]

Agree'd.

[anonymousComrade]

AAAAAAAAAA SOMEONE MADE FANART OF RE: CHAMPION

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OF ALL THIS BLIND AMBITION MADE FANFIC RECS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THERE'S A NEW CHAPTER OF RE: CHAMPION

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Re: Champion - Chapter 5: Survivor

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As he predicted, Karkinos's time in War Squad makes his stint with Pestilence look like a low-level FLARP module.

There are no post-session beatings this time; they aren't necessary, as the attempts to break him down come during the training itself. War Squad is mostly made up of the condemned, the crazy, and those deemed too bloodthirsty for the other squads, which is actually sort of impressive given the kind of work Threshecutioners do. "Sparring", he quickly learns, is actually a sanctioned bloodmatch. Two of his squadmates are killed during his first round of sparring with War Squad, one by his own hand. Captain Suzach barely seems to care. They are replaced the next day with convicts, sentenced to death by proxy via service of this company of lunatics.

Karkinos keeps his head down and his olfactory chambers clean. He will not give anyone reason to doubt he is less than an exemplary soldier. He does not complain, even after feeling his ribcage pop and nearly blacking out. He does not provoke or respond to the threats of his squadmates.

(Most of all, he does not give up.)

----------

The first hint Captain Suzach gets that Karkinos Histrellin will not be broken comes after War Squad's first deployment, when only three soldiers in the unit are left alive, and he is one of them.

The team is dropped directly into the middle of an urban warzone, host to a fierce firefight between enemy forces and a detachment of Archeradicators on an Oni agricultural colony. Four of the dozen soldiers barely have time to exit their dropboxes before being mercilessly gunned down; Karkinos himself takes a grazing shot to his left side that his armor deflects but still stings like hell before he can use the dropbox itself as cover. There are twelve Oni fighters that he can detect, eight of his own fighters left alive after they take cover, and two dozen or more Archeradicators, but the Threshecutioners are using single-shot bolt-action rifles and the Archeradicators are using fucking bows while the Oni have weapons that can spit out a couple dozen bullets per second. Even with the occasional grenade arrow barrage, Alternian forces are severely outgunned here.

(How the hell are we staving off being conquered ourselves, he thinks to himself briefly, before a bullet flies too close to his own head for comfort and his thoughts return to the current situation.)

He carefully peeks around the left corner of the dropbox and spies a nested gunner, distracted with another Threshecutioner target on the far side of the battlefield. Rookie mistake, jackass, Karkinos thinks before pulling his rifle up and squeezing the trigger. A spray of black leaves the exit wound and the Oni slumps to the ground as the constant sound of gunfire falls just slightly quieter.

He moves back into cover just in time to avoid a hail of fire meant to avenge the fallen warrior. He looks to his right and sees another Threshecutioner attempt the same maneuver he just made, and fail spectacularly as his head disintegrates into a cloud of azure gore. Shit.

He taps a sequence into the HUD keypad and gets a satellite feed of the area. Four of the enemy machine gun nests are empty (including the one manned by the lone Oni he gunned down), but four-- no, three remain, as a hail of explosive arrows miraculously finds its mark and takes out another one. Karkinos is trying to plan out a route that will allow him a clear shot at the nearest one and is beginning to work out the particulars when the minimap of the satellite feed is almost entirely eclipsed by... something.

When the shadow passes over the area, Karkinos's first thought is that an Alternian dropship has sent reinforcements and that the tide of battle is about to turn in his favor. Safe for now behind the dropbox he's using for cover, he glances upward and curses his luck.

That's not an Alternian dropship. Whatever it's deploying, they're not dropboxes used by any unit he knows of. And those are most definitely not trolls stepping out of them.

He is forced from his position of relative safety and dives behind a concrete wall to put an obstacle between him and the nearest enemy. He wonders if the Oni soldier will try rounding the corner to get to him when he hears a crackling noise above him. He looks up to find a section of concrete warping before turning red hot and melting away.

(Energy weapons? Jegus fuck, did intel ever drop the ball on this one.)

A voice cries out on the other side of the wall. "Surprise, you ugly motherfagggghhhh!!" it screams as the Oni's laser rifle boils away the troll's body armor before cooking his internal organs inside him, killing him quickly. It's all the time Karkinos needs to round the corner and put a round in his opponent. He misses, striking the weapon instead. The Oni soldier is unhurt, but it throws aside its now useless weapon and charges Karkinos. He lines up the sights on his rifle, pulls the trigger,

click.

FUCK. He drops his empty rifle and tries to pull his sickle out of his strife specibus but nothing materializes in his hand except a cloud of sparks. Doesn't R&D ever test this shit before sending it to the field?! This is not the first time his specibus has jammed, but before he's able to clear it, a very swiftly charging and very pissed-off Oni soldier tackles him to the ground.

Karkinos rolls right, fighting for dominance. He winds up on top for a moment, and a sledgehammer blow to the cranium stuns the enemy enough for him to draw the sheathed sickle strapped to his back (always keep a spare), but not long enough to keep his opponent from fighting back before a fatal blow can be struck. Another roll and the Oni is atop him, chitinous fists slamming into the side of his face. He instinctively puts his hands up to guard and the sickle is knocked from his hand. Karkinos grapples with his opponent and manages to push it off him. He crawls toward the sickle and just barely reaches it before the enemy soldier mounts his back and begins throwing punches aimed directly at Karkinos's think pan. He twists hard to throw the Oni off him and right himself, brings the sickle round, and buries it into the side of the thing's head.

It dies, mandibles clicking irregularly as black ichor seeps from its head wound. Karkinos gives the corpse a good punt to the midsection for good measure before retrieving his weapons and reloading his rifle.

("War Squad, grubfucker! Tell your friends!")

A voice sounds over the comms channel. New orders: the Archeradicators are to evacuate to the field hospital, and what's left of War Squad is to cover their escape, then evacuate themselves.

One problem: War Squad is two guys right now. Everyone else was killed in the firefight-- wait. One of the life sensors in the squad roster blinks on and off irregularly. Someone else is still alive, but might not be for long.

-- warSix [W6] began hailing warNine [W9] --

W6: HEY, YOU STILL ALIVE, MAN?
W6: WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
W6: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?
W9: fffuck that, man
W9: llleave me behind
W9: iii'm not gonna make it, i'll just slow you down
W6: THE ONLY ONES LEFT ALIVE ARE ME, YOU AND W11.
W6: THAT SENIORITY MAKES ME ACTING SQUAD LEADER IN THE EVENT OF THE SL'S DEATH, AND I'M ORDERING YOU TO SEND ME YOUR COORDINATES SO I CAN GET YOU.
W9: gggod fine here but don't do it
W9: yyyou gotta get out of here

warNine's [W9] current location (relative): 15.934 N, 25.483 E, elevation -3.402.

W6: OKAY, THAT'S NOT FAR. HOLD ON, I'M GETTING YOU OUT OF THERE.

-- warSix [W6] closed communications with warNine [W9] --

Karkinos finds him in the cellar of a shack not too far from where he wrestled with an Oni soldier, miraculously away from the main battle, though if any enemies were to come through here he'd be a sitting waterfowl because of the cerulean trail he's left behind. The wounded soldier is bleeding heavily from wounds in his chest, stomach, both arms and his left leg. Without immediate medical attention, he'll bleed out soon. Karkinos takes a roll of gauze from a pouch on his belt (after his strife specibus has jammed so many times, he doesn't trust a newfangled sylladex to hold something as important as first-aid supplies) and dresses the wounded man's injuries as best he can, but it's only a stopgap measure, and he's still doomed without more professional care.

Karkinos props him up on his shoulder, punches a sequence into his helmet and overlays a map onto his HUD. There's a route they can take that shouldn't cross any more enemy encampments, but it's longer and they'll have to leave immediately if his squadmate is to survive the trip.

"Can you walk?"

"M-m-my head's spinning a bit and my other leg's no good but I think I can do it like this."

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here. Come on."

----------

Shortly before rejoining the Archeradicators and the third surviving member of War Squad, the injured soldier starts slowing down, then nearly collapses. Karkinos strikes up a conversation with him to keep him lucid.

"Come on buddy, we gotta get you to the field hospital. Stay up."

"I'm not gonna make it man, fucking leave me here and go!"

"Fuck that, I said. You got a name, kid?"

"P-p-private Grubson, sir."

"What's a kid like you doing with a bunch of bloodthirsty rejects like War Squad?"

"I don't... I don't--"

"Stay with me! What are you doing in War Squad?"

"Th-th-they said I was no good followin' directions, so they put me here. Guess they were right, I charged a goddamn gun nest and look where that got me." He tries to force a half-chuckle but only manages to cough up more blood.

"Come on man, keep it together, it's not far now. We're gonna make it, stay with me. Tell me, you got anyone special back home?"

"W-what?"

"Got a quadrant filled, rookie? You got someone waiting for you back on Alternia after your mandatories are done?"

"...y-yeah."

"Tell me about 'em."

"I-I-I got a kismesis, back home. Tall, scrawny bastard."

"Yeah? What's he like?"

"I-I remember the day we went obsidian. It was fucking magic, man, and he was such a bulge about it. The way his knuckles felt against my jaw, that snarl he spoke in that he thought sounded menacing but just makes him sound like a huge tool... Christ, what an asshole."

"Sounds like you got a nice little blackrom, then. Fuck, come on, we're almost there."

"I'm not gonna m-make it, sir. Tell him... tell him I hate him for me, will you?" He goes silent as he falls unconscious.

"Fuck that, you can tell him yourself when you get home! You die here, you're gonna make that douchebag of yours happy, you don't want that, do you?! Fucking wake up!" No response. "Goddamnit!" Karkinos slings his unconscious form over his shoulder and peers into the horizon; he can just barely make out the tents of the field hospital.

After a walk in double-time, Karkinos stumbles into the nearest tent. "Need a doctor here!" he shouts. He turns to the only other occupant of the tent and is a little surprised when he recognizes her.

"No fuckin' way. Small galaxy, huh?"

"I cannot say I was expecting to see you alive again, Karkinos."

----------

As it turns out, Avir graduated from medical training around the time of Karkinos's incarceration and became a field medicrusher, currently serving on this front in the campaign against the Oni. She didn't know of his... reassignment to War Squad, just that he had stopped contacting her, and she had assumed the worst when she had learned of the charges against him.

He asks her as she tends to the wounded soldier's injuries, "Is he gonna be okay? The guy's got more damn bullets in him than my rifle holds."

"He lost a lot of blood but we have plenty of artificial cerulean for transfusions. He'll need rest and I'll have to get a surgeonihillator to remove the bullets, but for now, I think he's stable." Karkinos breathes a sigh of relief, the kid's gonna make it after all.

He's about to ask her how she's been, as he's got that sort-of-friends, sort-of-pale affection for her that can really only develop between someone who gets beat up daily and the person who keeps bandaging him up, when a familiar rumbling is heard overhead. He thinks he knows what it is and readies his rifle.

"Fuck, not again, not here!"

Karkinos steps outside the tent, looks to the sky and confirms his suspicions; somehow, another Oni dropship managed to get past the anti-air guns and is approaching at high speeds. It drops its payload without even slowing down, black metal dropboxes slamming into the ground at various points outside and within the hospital camp.

"What's happening, Karkinos?"

"Oni drop troopers, at least a dozen. Fuck, I'll be right back, command's telling all fighters to meet up for the defense."

"Before you go, toss me that key." Avir gestures to the table by the tent's entrance.

"The fuck you need that for?"

"Just grab the second one from the left and throw it here." He does so and is kind of dumbfounded when she takes it in her right hand, flicks her wrist, and it transforms into a pistol.

"...how the hell did you do that?"

"Hidden strife specibus, all the medical staff gets one as a surprise measure in case something like this happens. Nothing happens to one of my patients without a fight."

"Bullshit, you're supposed to be saving lives, not ending them. Didn't they make you take an oath or something?"

"Of course. 'Above all else, do no harm, unless they're really asking for it.' Why?"

"...Nothing. I'm out, see you later, Avir."

"Until then, Karkinos."

----------

It's over so quickly that Karkinos wonders why the Oni even bothered wasting soldiers on it.

Initially, the idea that they could drop troops in the middle of the field hospital with apparent impunity is disconcerting. The Oni, he has learned, is one of the very few races trollkind has encountered that have no qualms with attacking medical recovery areas. What they weren't counting on, however, is that the Trolls are one of the very few races in the galaxy that have no problem with making their medics into capable fighters. When even the anesthesiattacker has a pistol and can put a bullet between a target's eyes from 50 yards, and the field hospital is swarming with medical staff, well, any enemy intruders don't last long.

He returns to Avir's tent after the attackers are dealt with. Black splotches her forest-green medicrusher uniform; apparently she had a run-in with an enemy combatant but made short work of it. The private is still out of it but unharmed in the assault. All there is to do now is wait for evac, which won't come for another ten hours, according to the AltARPAnet memo displayed on his HUD.

Avir rolls out a cot for him, the only other one not occupied by an injured squadmate, but he refuses. "Hell no, Avir, I won't have you sleeping on the fucking ground. You take the cot, I'll be fine on the ground." She insists, he's the one who fought hard today and survived not one but two battles, not to mention the wounded man he dragged over here, but he won't have any of it.

("Maybe I should have taken the fucking cot," he thinks, before he finally falls asleep an hour later.)

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TA: hahaha, ii bet the captaiin wa2 furiiou2!!
CG: SHIT YES, HE WAS. THE BEST PART IS THAT THERE'S NOTHING HE CAN DO ABOUT IT.
CG: ANYONE WHO SURVIVES A BATTLE THAT KILLS MORE THAN HALF THEIR SQUAD AUTOMATICALLY GETS THE SILVER SKULL.
CG: AND AVIR'S MAKING SURE I GET THE CRIMSON CROSS FOR SAVING THAT GUY, BECAUSE SUZACH HAS NO JURISDICTION OVER THE MEDICINAL GUILD.
CG: ANY ORDERS I GAVE WERE PERFECTLY LEGAL. THE SL WAS DEAD, SUZACH WASN'T PLANETSIDE AND I WAS THE SENIOR SURVIVOR, SO TECHNICALLY I WAS SQUAD LEADER UNTIL I SET FOOT ON THE SHIP AGAIN.
CG: I BET THAT NOOKSUCKER CAN'T STAND IT, FUCKING GREENBLOOD HERE *STILL* SHOWING THE BLUE ASSHOLES HOW IT'S DONE.
CG: WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY NEXT QUESTION: OUR WEAPONS FUCKING SUCK.
CG: SERIOUSLY, BOLT-ACTION RIFLES? FUCKING BOWS???
CG: THEY'VE GOT MACHINE GUNS AND LASER RIFLES.
CG: YOU GOT MOVED TO R&D NOT LONG AGO, WHAT GIVES?
TA: well ii work mo2tly with fetch modii and the trolliian team 2o ii don't know everythiing, but here'2 what ii DO know.
TA: two be hone2t, the onii are probably the mo2t advanced ciiviilii2atiion we've fought.
TA: they never fiigured out ftl travel untiil 2ome bumblefuck iin hiigh command pretty much let them hiijack one of our cruii2er2, and they 2pent all theiir tiime on theiir home planet fiightiing each other.
TA: 2o they uniited when we attacked, and centuriie2 of ciiviil war meant they had 2ome kiicka22 weaponry developed.
TA: we've actually 2tarted rever2e-engiineeriing their la2er-ba2ed weapon2 at the lab2 back on alterniia, but ii heard the fiir2t prototype wa2 2tolen iin a raiid.
CG: DAMN, SERIOUSLY? WAIT, FUCK, A RAID?
CG: YOU DON'T THINK IT WAS...
TA: the marquii2e? doubt iit, 2he would have kiilled everyone iin the faciiliity and burned iit two the ground for the hell of iit.
TA: no, iit had two have been one of her goon2, probably that one douchebag riidiing her coattaiil2.
TA: fuck, the encryptermiinator2 caught another enemy tran2mii2iion they want me two take a look at
TA: gotta go kark, glad you diidn't get your a22 handed two you!
CG: HAHA, TRY NOT TO GET CARPAL TUNNEL, CODE JOCKEY.

-- totalAnnihilation [TA] ceased trolling crimsonGeneral [CG] --

Notes:

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So, as I'm sure you're aware, recent canon developments have hinted at Karkat's ancestor and what he did. PingZing totally called it, and I recommend anyone who hasn't read Hot Blooded go do so immediately.

That doesn't mean Re: Champion is going anywhere, though! I mean yeah, canon just ruined all but one of the end scenarios I came up with for this thing and just straight-up going with that ending would be all kinds of weak, but I assure you, I've worked out how this thing will end and it's gonna be one hell of a ride if I have any say in the matter.

At some point early into writing this thing, the conversation about Grubson's kismesis started playing out in my head, and I couldn't not incorporate that. I like to think that's exactly the sort of thing you might see in actual Homestuck and not just in fanfiction, but maybe it's too over-the-top? I guess you'll be the judge of that! Also, Grubson was totally going to be a cavalreaper and also Tavros's ancestor, but I kind of can't use him anymore because he isn't born yet. So I just came up with the most generic Alternian soldier name I could think of and made him a member of War Squad.

Finally, I'm sure more than one person guessed who Avir is, and now there can be no doubt whatsoever. No, the blood colors don't match up, and that's on purpose. Kanaya is the only jade-blood in written history, remember? Also I put way too much thought into these names and hers is proof: Avir is a modified version of a-vir, or Alpha Virgo, the brightest star in the Virgo constellation. Hooray for Wikipedia, I guess!

[penguinbound]

remember that story i did one time that was about rebels and karkat was in it.

i redid it and this is the first chapter.

Blood Runs Deep
Act I: Uprising
Chapter 1: Riots in the Street
It’s both rebellion and conformity that attack you with success.
-Amy Tan

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The crowd was angry-pissed off was a more accurate description, to Karkat. There were weapons, but none were being used, just held high, looming above the few Trolls that were unlucky enough to be sent to quell the group. There was a chant bubbling in the air, but the gray symboled Troll didn't bother to learn it, much less say it. He was just watching-still in the crowd, but only watching, not participating. Some older Trolls nudged him to join in, but he waved them off. He was only here for one thing-the outcome.

Two things would come from this, really. Either some dumbasses getting out of hand and being killed, and everyone going back to their Hives, or something better. Something serious-something that might change everything. He wasn't too optimistic, he wasn't optimistic about a lot of things, but this was a hope he had built up. But, he wasn't too hoping, for if it failed, or nothing came, he wouldn't be terribly crushed. However, something seemed different about this, at least it felt like that to Karkat-hell, maybe he was wrong, it wouldn't be the first time.

Something flew through the air, and a roar entered the air. The sound of something falling to the ground followed, and a cheer rose, then. Karkat couldn't see all over those damn tall Trolls but he was certa-a gun shot. Two thuds. A vicious roar, and suddenly the entire crowd was surging forward, their weapons being lowered for use. Karkat's eyes widened, and he turned around to abscond, but he was pushed forward by the Trolls running forward to fight. They certainly didn't mean to, but in their stupor to at least spill a bit of Highblood blue, they didn't see the six sweep old being pushed closer and closer to the front of the line.

Karkat was almost claustrophobic. He seemed to have a break, until his back hit something. A chill went up his spine. Oh, fuck. He didn't want to turn around, really, but he was afraid if he didn't he wouldn't at least get a chance to run. He spun around as fast as he possibly could, and came face to face with a guard, holding a gun in his hand. The Troll was visibly shaking, but his finger was dangerously close to pulling the trigger. "Okay, okay, wait, hold the fuck on, alright, we can-" the guard suddenly fell, his eyes wide.

A puddle of light blue pooled around him. Karkat's jumped back, and started pushing people to the side, trying to get out. Bad idea, worst execution. He finally stumbled out of the ravenous pack, and watched wide eyed as the guards were quickly overwhelmed by the crowd, and soon there were no gunshots, and there were cheers. The crowd was only slightly smaller, but their cries were just as loud. Someone stood on a tipped over object, and threw his right fist in the air.

"Lowbloods, listen up," his voice was gravely. "This is our time! This is our chance to stop this bullshit government! Who's with me!?" A shout of excitement blasted, and the crowed quickly dispersed, knocking things over and slowly moving down the street, leaving almost nothing undestroyed. Karkat stood wide eyed, open mouthed, as mayhem rocked the street. The bodies lay behind, the first blood spilled in what was possibly going to be the first revolution in a long time.
..::..
Uniformity among the rebels spread quicker then anticipated, at least to Karkat. It wasn't even two weeks after the event that started it that a base had been established, and regular attacks on guards were common. It took Karkat more courage than he had thought would be needed to drag himself down to the rebellion base, and even more to go inside. He was committing himself to possibly die for the freedom of more than just Highbloods.

He kept his shoulders hunched and his head down as he walked silently through the hallways, which zigzagged more than he would have liked it too. The doors on the side of the walls were spread out rather far, and all the lights inside were on. In one of them, he could hear yelling, something about a new plan-he passed by to quickly to hear anymore than that.

Finally, the end of the hallway was in sight, and the door of the leader's office was waiting for him. He scowled, took a deep breath, and walked faster. God, you're so fucking stupid, Karkat. It's one fucking Troll, and you're going to talk to him about helping over throw an Empire-why would you be scared? He stopped just outside, and bit his bottom lip without noticing, and entered inside the office.

Sitting at the desk was the Troll Karkat would least expect to lead a rebellion. His hair was long, and messy. His horns were almost to the point of breaking, and were completely straight and long. His eyes were almost permanently closed, and his mouth wore a consistant smile. His teeth were narrow and sharp. He wore a pale white jacket, and pants the same color.

He leaned forward, and his grin seemed to grow wider. "Well, hello there. I assume you're here to sign up for the rebellion? Or, are you just some half-baked assassin the Empire sent in? Sending a younger Troll was smart. Oh, sorry, I tend to ramble, so, what is it that you wanted?" Karkat blinked, and started wondering whether joing this cause was a good idea, now.

Struggling to keep his thoughts to himself Karkat nodded. "Right, uh, I wanted to join the cause." The Troll leaned back, and stretched his Cheshire smile wider. How the fuck do you even get a smile that big? The two stood in silence for a moment, and it seemed that the leader was appraising him. Karkat swallowed what felt like a lump in his throat, and suddenly felt like he was going to throw up.

"You're a little young to be freedom fighting, eh? What brings you to my fine establishment," he leaned forward again, smile never leaving his face. "I'm rather interested as to why one so young as you wants to join our little army." Karkat blinked, and stared down at his hand, which was now open. He thought about the bright red blood pulsing beneath, and bit his lip again.

"Well, I-fuck, um, I just," Karkat found he suddenly couldn't speak coherently. Well, there went every chance he'd have of joining the rebellion. Fuck, if he couldn't even stand the pressure of a conversation what would he do in the face of battle. His mind drifted back to the day two weeks ago when the rebellion started, and he froze when he was caught up with the guard.

Before Karkat could continue speaking, the Troll reached out and grabbed his wrist, and pulled him forward roughly, and stabbed his hand with a pen he seemingly produced out of no where, and dragged it across, letting candy red leak out. Karkat's eyes widened, and his heart started beating faster-and his hand started hurting. The Troll stared, and the smile grew ever wider.

"Well," the let go of Karkat's hands and leaned back. "Welcome to the rebellion."
..::..
The four stood in the alley, rain pouring like two matesprits with a bucket-one of Karkat's more favorite inappropriate terms. One was a green blood girl, with a ridiculous cat hat, her horns coming out of the sides. She wore a dark green jacket, and everything else was black, besides her blue gloves. He noticed a blue tail shaking on her back. He grimaced. What a great team I got. The other two were two orange bloods who dressed like each other, hell, had the same hairstyles, almost. One was a girl, the other a boy.

"Alright, so, we've got two guards at the end of each street. We can each take one," his eyes scanned the three. The two orange bloods certainly didn't look too sure. "We... can each take one, right?" The duo frowned. The green blood looked sure she could, and Karkat had no doubts about that-he had seen her training down at the base. The twins, as he'd dubbed them, were a problem.

"Well, that's a problem. Okay, wait, why don't you two take one, you can take one, and I'll take one. Which ever one of us finishes our guard, go take down the other one." The other three nodded, and Karkat gave the motion to move out. He watched the three scamper closer to the guards at the end of the street-looks like he'd be alone, for now.

He took a deep breath, and looked at the guard at the edge of the street, that he was closest to-his target. He looked like a giant fucking monster, to Karkat. One of his horns were cracked, and his clothes were ripped in places. Karkat's eyes widened when he realized how much his muscles rippled at every slight movement of the Troll. Well, I'm fucked. Karkat stated to himself, simply. And then, without another hesitation, he stepped out of the alley, pulled his sickle out, and lunged at the Troll-he wasn't even a Troll, more like a musclebeast-and slashed.

The blue blood, he saw now, must have heard him, because he swung around with brutal quickness, and grabbed the blade with his hands, stopping Karkat dead in his tracks. Karkat's eyes widened. The Troll wore sunglasses that were craacked, and there were bruises under his eyes. His teeth were cracked, probably from training so much. The guard yanked the sickle from Karkat's hands-he knew that the action would have dislocated his arm had he not let go so easily.

He stumbled back, and the blue blood tossed a punch at him. Karkat ducked, and tried for an uppercut. The punch connected, and it felt like hitting a brick wall. The guard didn't appear affected by it, and moved as if nothing happened. He pushed Karkat back, and the gray symboled Troll slammed into the wall behind him, and his breath left his body. The too strong Troll walked up to him, and grinned. He raised his arms.

"If you live, I want you, and your lood rebel friends to know," Karkat's eyes widened. "That Equius Zahhak is going to end it." Then, with an astounding speed, he slammed his hands on the sides of Karkat's head, directly on his ears. Everything seemed to gain a double, and he lost hearing. He stumbled sideways, and tried to reach his arms out to grab something, and failed. He dropped to the ground, a pain finally hitting him, and a single thought came to him before he blacked out.

Well, I'm fucked.
..::..
The first thing he saw was the dim lamp above him, and the soft drone of a headache. It wasn't too bad, not yet anyway. He swallowed, and tried to move and failed. His back hurt like a bitch, and he still felt awkward when his limbs did anything. Although, his fingers twitched occaisionally. He sat for a few moments, breathing and finger-twitching, until he heard the screech of the door, the patter of foot steps.

Someone leaned forward and obscured his view of the light. It was that catgirl. "Hi, um, Karkat? That was your name, right?" She frowned for a moment, and then returned to a smile. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. The other two got killed. I got you out before that big brute could kill you. Um. They say that once you get healed up, we're supposed to go to the boss for our next assignment. Guess we're gonna be working together for a while."

Karkat blinked, and couldn't think of anything to say. Great, permanent catgirl teammate. Awesome. At least she wasn't a terrible fighter-he assumed, again. He sighed. Nepeta smiled, a small smile, and looked towards the door for a moment. "Alright, well, um. I'm gonna go. I, um, hope you get better." She smiled again, and turned around, unobscuring the lamp. He heard the door open again, and then close.

Karkat blinked, and went back to sleep. Fuck, my first mission and I land in the Wounded and Fucked-Up wing. Awesome.

[mythmonster2]

I approve of Karkat-Ancestor fics. More would be excellent.

[deathsbuddy]

re:champion, hot blooded, blood runs deep
i feel like there's some sort of pattern to all the series i'm paying attention to right now.

[Sporkaganza]

Hey, you know that crossover thing that I really should be twice as far into writing as I actually am?

Yeah, still doing that.

New chapter up. It's embarrassingly short, but it's up.

Chapter 13. You might as well read it. It'll take about 2 minutes of your time to do so, and Pickle Inspector is in it, which is always a plus.

[lucidSeraph]

DEAR FANFIC THREADERS:

I am on a quest to sell someone on fanfic. I have already given him a few req's, but I require... moar.

Things:

- Not pairing-centric in any way, shape, or form. Keep it gen.
- Excellent writing style = a must. The prose has to *sing*
- No crossovers yet (I'll save that for later?)
- Bonus points for either 1. HUMOR or 2. Really interesting explorations of character/canon concepts. Also 3. Dualscar / other ancestor shenanigans (No Karkancestor plz, there's 9 billion fics of him)

[anonymousComrade]

Sounds like you need to steer him the hell away from everything I've ever written, then

[draconicAlgorithm]

@ lucidSeraph: It is ridiculously hard to think of really good stories that are not shippy or a crossover. Maybe some of Sionnan's Strider fics? Those are the only things that come to mind off the top of my head. Unfortunately, I don't read that many ancestor fics, so I dunno of anything there. Oh, and RedPen's Unhinged! That was really good as well, and not particularly shippy. Um. That's really all I can think of.

EDIT: And omg guys where are all these amazing HS/Harry Potter crossovers coming from on AO3, what I don't even.

[ceruleanTresses]

Man, I have all these IDEAS and PLOTS swimming in my head stemming from the whole "highbloods have longer lifespans" reveal. But, exams. I should have something up in a few days.

(this is sadly irrelevant to lucidSeraph's request for recs because a. the stories I have in mind all have to do with the implications of lifespan discrepancies on trollmance, and b. I'm a terrible writer with a hideous case of Purple Prose. That said, I am in support of things along those lines getting written/discovered, and I'll keep an eye out.)

[catastrophicGenesis]

Sporkaganza: Still waiting to be poked about sprites. =P Is that still a thing you want, or are you not planning on it any more?

anonymousComrade: Wh00, epic wartime heroics =3. Also, end it how you want, and if you have to slap an AU tag on it I don't care, it will be cool. XD

PingZing: I can't wait for Karkatcestor and Solluxcestor frenemy interaction. =D

[Sporkaganza]

Sporkaganza: Still waiting to be poked about sprites. =P Is that still a thing you want, or are you not planning on it any more?

anonymousComrade: Wh00, epic wartime heroics =3. Also, end it how you want, and if you have to slap an AU tag on it I don't care, it will be cool. XD

PingZing: I can't wait for Karkatcestor and Solluxcestor frenemy interaction. =D

Nope, don't worry, it's still a thing! Actually, hold on, I'm gonna give you a PM right now. She likes mail.

[Doodled]

Why did I even have this silly idea I have no idea...

Reverse Mafia

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"It looks like this dilemma is up to you, Terezi."

"SO 1T 1S B3TW33N YOU 4ND D4V3..."

"Yes, we are both voting to kill off one another, so it is down to your vote to decide the outcome of this game."

"NO S3COND CH4NC3S?"

"None. It is Lynch-or-Lose... Though I am quite assured that your love of justice will cause you to pick the correct choice."

"rose is the mafia
its her"

"H3H3H3..."

"HURRY UP, ASSHOLES!"

"Terezi, I would like to point out that Sollux repeatedly accused Dave, only to die the next night. Using this, the obvious conclusion would be-"

"that youre guilty
it's obvious
as obvious as johns movies sucking
terribly unironically"

"hey!"

"H3H3H3..."

"This is starting to seem incredibly unfair! Terezi's fetish with the color..."

Rose's sentence came to a stop as Terezi moved her fingers along Dave's shirt, giggling.

Rose rolled her eyes, much to the bemusement of several.

"id like to say rezi
that this problem has a solution thats so fucking obvious
its like the sun being in the sky
pre-medium, i mean
so,
we got rose over there
and kanaya never dies
until vriska pointed it out
and then she died
and then vriska died
is this fucking suspicious or what?"

Dave concluded this with a smirk and a crossing of his arms, and a

"case closed"

Terezi raised an eyebrow.

"BUT STR1D3R, ROS3 1S PROB4BLY TH3 DOCTOR, S1NC3 K4N4Y4 K3PT B31NG S4V3D."

"wait
wait no
what?
are you sure of that?"

"Y34H! WHO DO YOU TH1NK YOU'R3 T4LK1NG TO, 4..."

Dave cut her off with a chuckle so unironic that she was forced to learn why.

"you wouldnt know that
unless you were the killer that chose for kanaya to die
case.
fucking.
closed."

Terezi stared, slack-jawed.

Rose and Dave switched their votes over, and the town had won.

The small crowd spectating lauded this mildly, excepting that one Karkat, sighing and banging his head against the wall, and excepting Nepeta, who, as the host, squealed and clapped, hopping up and down.

"You know, Terezi, if you hadn't had made such a spectacle of the decision-making, you could have easily won."

Terezi reached for her cane, but while the grimdark had worn off of Rose's voice, it had not worn off of her powers. As such, Terezi reconsidered.

Terezi shook hands under the direction of Jade, to varying reactions.

As Terezi trudged away, she muttered, barely loud enough for the blonde humans to hear,

"STUP1D HUM4N JUST1C3..."

[Mei]

@lucidSeraph: a_mere_trifle's 'Inheritance' (Link) immediately springs to mind, as does liquidCitrus' 'four titles' (Link). I really wanna rec Red Pen's 'And We're Alive' (Link), but it's tagged Jade/Dave... I also want to rec SushiDatabase's 'Shenanigans' (Link), which is a nice exploration of the doomed timeline that spawned Davepsrite and dream!Rose, but it's been so long since I've read it that I can't be 100% certain it's a) non-shippy and b) up to your friend's standards.

Well, now that I've done that, I can feel slightly less guilty *coughblatantliescough* about using my first post for requests...

Soldiering on, there's a few plot bunnies that have been hopping around my head that I want to pawn off onto you poor saps because I'm a terrible writer and they won't leave me alone. Chances are someone's already written something along the same lines and I just can't find it, so if anyone is able to point me to a fic that will take any of the following bunnies and wrangle their necks for all they're worth, I'd be very much obliged.

Ok, I just know someone, somewhere has already done this, but...

Sourcetorn.

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“You were told, Neo, that the world as we now know it came about as the result of an ultimately failed attempt to free ourselves from the machine threat. That isn’t exactly true.”

“We’ve hide under the crust of a blackened wasteland because we… lost a game, of sorts.”

Skaialabs announces what may be their greatest release yet.

“Somewhere in the Matrix there exists a game.”

“What game?”

“The game.”

“Sburb is something of an experiment,” says Skaialabs CEO Thomas Harley. “Truth tell, it’s been in development for nearly 100 years now. While it is first and foremost a game, Sburb has always been meant to test the limits of whatever platform it runs on. Unfortunately, the exponential progress of technology has rendered virtually every system we might have utilized to host Sburb obsolete within mere years of their release, but we are confident that the Matrix VR system may very well be the pinnacle of telexistence and so will be able to take advantage of Sburb’s full potential.”

“While it harbours monumental potential, Sburb has persistently resisted all our efforts to dissect its code. Currently, there exists a singular procedure by which we may access the boundless capacity for what we believe is the very stuff of creation held within Sburb’s code.”

“And that is?”

“Play it.”

Aaaaand musings on what might happen Post-Sburb if the world gets reset but the kids retain their powers and doomed timelines and such are still in effect.

Will the Real Alpha Dave Please Stand Up.

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Dave Strider was a cool guy. Always was, always would be. It was, in fact, a universal constant. The day Dave Strider lost his cool was the day the entirety of the internet became a platform for unconditional love and understanding.

That being said, there were situations which made Dave feel marginally less cool than average. Waking up with Satan’s own hang over, an ornery wedge of sandpaper trying (and failing spectacularly) to moonlight as his tongue and absolutely no recollection of the past week or so definitely qualified as one of those situations. That he also happened to be sitting in the middle of a featureless grey room with his hands tied to a chair and a godawful light picking apart his retinas just cemented his emergence into the land of the living as a 7 on his shit-day scale.

“Do you know why you are here, Mr. Strider?”

Make that an 8.

“Fuck, right, step one, if I ever see another bottle of absinthe I am running the hell away as fast as I can. Step two, gotta get a restraining order against Mrs. Lalonde. Step three, why the fuck am I hallucinating about Chucky’s Little House of Chiché Horrors?”

“You are here, Mr. Strider, because we have some pressing questions for you.” The washed out voice continued blandly as what looked like a cardboard cutout of a stereotypcial FBI agent with a Pinocchio complex stepped into Dave’s line of sight. Really, shades, black suit, white undershirt and polished black shoes; like the lovechild of Hugo Weaving and Tommy Lee Jones with extra bland added in for the variety.

“Right Imma just answer your questions all nicelike and not raise a fuss about waking up hung over, sore and tied to a fucking chair because that's totally-”

“Questions about your brother.”

That got Dave’s attention.

“What the fuck does my bro have to do with this?”

“You’re brother, Ambrose Strider-”

“Bro.”

“Ambrose,” the blacksuit halted, giving Dave a piercing glare from behind his empty shades, “Strider is currently being held in the Allan B. Polunsky Unit in West Livingston.”

Dave froze. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and he honestly didn’t give a shit about how uncool it was. Seriously, the world should be bowing down to him in his magnanimity; internet fucking jegus right here, net messiah crusading for a Youtube free of Godwin’s Law, ponies ain’t got nothin’ on-

Fuck.

“What is this shit?” The teen kept his voice carefully level. “What the hell is my bro doing on death fucking row?”

“Your brother,” the agent stalked over to a gurney Dave hadn’t noticed earlier, “is currently on death row for the murder of one David Strider.”

Double fuck.

“Is this your body, Mr. Strider?” The blacksuit asked, whipping a white sheet off of the gurney to reveal a very cool, very stabbitied, very dead Dave Strider.

“Balls.”

(Yes I realize the legal system doesn't work like that.)

So yeah, if anyone can take these pesky bunnies off my hands I will shower them in net cookies and praise. Or I may simply tacklehug them at terminal velocity, whichever seems appropriate at the time.