MSPA Fanfiction VI: Trashy Rainbow Drinker Fanfiction

[anonymousComrade]

Because it's still OTP month and I'm still a sucker, here's another thing I wrote courtesy of a Captchalogue prompt.

Misunderstanding

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You are KARKAT VANTAS, and you're about to enact a plan to get Terezi's attention and put that Strider punk in his place, all at once.

God, it was so obvious. You have no idea how it eluded you for so long. Past you was probably holding out on you, that asshole. What even IS that guy's problem?

No time to think about that now, there's a more pressing issue to deal with: the relationship between that nooksucker Dave and a certain blind girl you are so hopelessly flushed for. Seeing how you've watched pretty much every movie on the subject that ever existed, you are uniquely qualified to identify a budding matespritship when you see one, and you've going to have to act fast if you're going to put a stop to this one.

Some people would call what you're about to do crazy, stupid, or "clearly the awful plan of some kind of horrible jealous lunatic." Those people are obviously morons and have no idea what they're talking about. Come on, seriously, you? Jealous? Of Dave Strider? Not fucking likely! No, you're better than him in every concievable way, and now you're going to prove it--- haha yes, everyone's here in the common area, and they're drawing comics together, this is fucking perfect! You could not have asked for better conditions to do this in.

You clear your throat and ready yourself.

"Terezi Pyrope!" you call, loud enough to be heard over the din of John's shitty Earth movie, loud enough to make both Dave and Terezi look up from their drawings, loud enough to distract Sollux from his coding.

"Hey, Karkles! What'd you need?"

You take a deep breath before proceeding. You do not want to screw this up, not just because falling on your face here in front of Strider would ruin everything, but because you mean every word of what you're about to say. You've been meaning to do something like this for her for a long time; what better time to do it than now?

"I pity you." Now everyone has stopped what they were doing, including Terezi herself.

"You're a messed-up bag of neuroses, obsessed with your own twisted and frankly, insane sense of whatever passes in your head for justice. You're blind in more ways than one. Honestly, the way you lick everything is fucking disgusting and the way you cackle drives me up the goddamn wall. To call you a fucking weirdo would be the understatement of the sweep, all sweeps. You are exactly the kind of girl my lusus warned me about. Anyone else would have thrown their hands up, screamed 'man, forget THIS' to the sky and walked away."

Her face lights up like a wriggler's on Twelfth Perigree's Eve. "And yet, you're still here?"

"And yet, I'm still here."

You have never seen her smile quite like this. Mission fucking accomplished.

"Oh, Karkat!" The pitch of Terezi's voice raises an octave. Kanaya is smiling warmly in your direction. Aradia has a huge grin on her face. Sollux is smirking a bit; you can't tell whether he's thinking KK, you sly dog or about fucking time already. Vriska isn't really paying attention but you know what, fuck Vriska. Rose and Jade are just sort of dumbfounded and John's got the same idiotic grin he always has but they're humans and they don't understand so whatever. Dave is as inscrutable as ever but you can tell he's just fucking fuming under those douchebag shades.

Your gaze falls on Terezi again. She wipes a drop of teal from her eye as she walks toward you. You open your arms to embrace her and oh God ow what the fuck someone help

==>

You are DAVE STRIDER, and you have heard enough.

Ever since you met up with the trolls, Karkat's been an even angrier jerk than usual. Terezi swears he's no worse than before but you're pretty sure that is some straight-up weapons-grade bullshit.

He'd never admit it, but Karkat is sort of jealous of your friendship with Terezi. Okay, he's really jealous, which is still putting it mildly. You don't really get why, she's just your friend and a fellow artist and you wouldn't trade your art jams for all the sloppy interspecies makeouts in paradox space, but whatever, you're not about to stop hanging out with her just because he doesn't like you.

Then he comes in here, gets everyone's attention, and just starts laying into her. Isn't this asshole supposed to be her boyfriend? What the fuck is going on here?

And that's when you decided you weren't going to just stand there and let him get away with this. You're not thrilled with the idea of meddling in the personal issues of aliens from another dimension, but Terezi is your friend, and you won't stand for this.

So you flash step, cock back your fist, and punch him in the snout to establish interference.

Everyone in the room is a bit stunned. Someone finally breaks the silence: "What the hell, Dave!" But surprisingly, it's Terezi's voice, not Karkat's.

"Sorry, 'Rezi. Your boyfriend's a dick and I couldn't let him talk shit about you like that."

"What are you--" She is cut off by Karkat. "Why the FUCK did you do that?!"

"I told you. Don't care if she's your girlfriend, bro. She's my friend, and if you talk to her like that again and I hear about it, you can take it up with my right hook. Crazy bastard's just dying to get to know you." You aren't sure if this bit of white-knighting is so lame it loops back into genuine irony, or if it's just pathetic, but nobody messes with your friends, not even nubby-horned shitheads with Napoleon complexes.

"'Talk to her like tha--' it's a traditional fucking declaration of pity, you nooksniffing idiot! Jegus Christ, haven't any of you idiots read Troll Shakespeare?"

Wait, what?

A hand grabs your shoulder. "Conference time, dude." John pulls you into a nearby room.

==>

You are JOHN EGBERT, and you really should have had the foresight to explain all this beforehand.

If you're supposed to be leading your human comrades, then you didn't do a good enough job, because what happened just now was kind of an embarassing incident! But it's okay, you've explained it all to Dave, and surely it won't happen again.

"So... troll romance is based on pity?" Well, it probably won't happen again. This is the fifth time he's asked this, even though you've explained this to him several times. You even got out the diagrams, I mean come on, this isn't that hard to grasp.

"Yeah, but troll pity isn't like human pity." And you go on to explain how.

"Sounds like human romance with the serial numbers filed off to me, Egbert."

"Haha, it kind of is! Except they came first, so I guess that makes us the knockoffs."

"How the fuck do you even understand all this?"

"Bluh, Karkat gave me this speech like fifty times. Don't ask him about it unless you've got a pen and paper ready, he'll go on for hours about it."

"I'll remember that."

"No, really. He made me take notes once. Like, for real." Dave smirks at that. He has no idea how serious you are.

The door opens; it's Jade. "Hey guys! What's going on here?"

"Just educating our cool buddy here on how to be more multicultural," you reply.

"Oh, that's good! By the way, I smoothed things over with Karkat and Terezi for you, Dave. Karkat still wants to beat you senseless but Terezi's not mad at you anymore. As far as she's concerned, it was a cultural difference, you thought Karkat was doing something bad and you were sticking up for her, so she forgives you."

Well, that's good. Okay, Karkat's still mad but Karkat's always mad.

"Well, I guess that concludes this session of Troll Culture 101, Dave. Any questions?"

==>

You are DAVE STRIDER, and yeah, there's still something you don't really quite get. Matespritship is easy enough to understand, and kismesitude, being its opposite, isn't much harder. Auspisticing is basically mediation to keep enemies from killing each other or blackcheating. But there's one quadrant you're still a little shaky on.

"What the fuck, exactly, is moirallegience? Is it, like, super best friends forever or what?"

"Eh, kind of," John replies. "Moirails keep each other from hurting other people or themselves, and they protect one another."

Wait a minute.

Moirails keep each other from hurting other people or themselves... You remember the time you told Terezi that maybe killing Vriska wasn't such a great idea, and how she stopped you from throwing yourself at Jack in a bid for revenge when he was at his strongest.

...and they protect one another. You remember your fist slamming into Karkat's face only minutes ago, and how Jade had spun it.

You suddenly wonder what you might have just gotten yourself into.

==>

You are KARKAT VANTAS, and past you has managed to screw over current you once again.

How could you have been so blind? There was nothing to be jealous over (yes, it was jealousy, you can admit that to yourself now). Dave and Terezi were never anything more than friends drawing shitty comics together.

Were never anything more than friends, until recently, thanks to your unbelievably asinine ideas.

Oh, you most definitely filled your flushed quadrant today, no question about that. Your declaration of pity in front of this audience has won Terezi's heart, but you think maybe she only ever really had eyes (nostrils?) for you to begin with.

Until now.

No, Dave was never your rival for Terezi's flushed affections, you are pretty sure now, and if you hadn't been an absolute blockhead about this, maybe they would just be friends and this whole mess could have been avoided. But now? Your plan has most certainly backfired on you.

"Kaaaarkat! I know you don't like him, but come on, you should be happy for me! It's not every day a girl has BOTH her red quadrants filled, you know!"

You'll never get rid of him now. The girl's got diamonds in her eyes.

Notes:

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The prompt:

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More play on the quadrants!

Troll love is based on pity, so naturally, confessions and cute little quips between trolls will sound...odd to the kids.

Trolls and kids meet up, either Post SGURB or it never happened, and some romantic shenanigans ensue.

I was thinking maybe between Karkat and Terezi, where Karkat, jealous of Dave, proceeds to give Terezi the most heartfelt pity confession EVER, much to the delight of Terezi who's all c': >

Only to be promptly slapped by Dave or Rose and Jade because 'HOLY FUCK HOW CAN YOU TALK TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND LIKE THAT'

Or possibly, Tavros and Kanaya try to confess their pity for Jade and Rose respectively, only to be rejected until Rose and Jade better understand Troll Love.

Maybe some trolls are flirting with each other and the humans are like 'what'. You can go in any direction! Just adorable cultural misunderstandings and eventual understanding please C:

Bonus if, surprisingly, John is the only kid that has gotten the quadrants thing down.

No points for guessing where I stopped reading!

So it's still OTP Month. I kind of already wrote for that but I saw this prompt and decided "hey, why the hell not" once the scenario started unfolding in my mind.

No points for guessing who my favorite pairing is (even the most cursory of glances at what I've written will reveal what I enjoy, I mean come on I can't stop writing it), but what you might not know is that I'm also a pretty big fan of Dave and Terezi as moirails! You could say they are my other OTP.

Oh my God I'm using the term "OTP" without even the slightest hint of irony, single bullet to the base of the skull, it's the quickest way

So is it completely obvious that I can't write Dave at all or what. Seriously I can't do this character justice at all, I promise this is the last time I try, okay

[sebastian]

Karkat, look at the bright side, with a little work Dave could be your kismesis.

I wonder how it is seen in troll society when you have a kismesis with the moirail of your matesprit?

[draconicAlgorithm]

@ anonymousComrade: That was absolutely adorable. Cultural misunderstandings are always fun. And of course, now you've reminded me it's OTP month and that I should probably write something for it. I'm not even sure what my OTP is. ._.

[newbonomicon]

D'aaawww...

I fully support human/troll moirallegiance. I ship diamonds for every troll that has contemplated sloppy makeouts with a human, especially Terezi ♦ Dave, but also Vriska ♦ John, Kanaya ♦ Rose, and Karkat ♦ Jade.

Also all the obvious ♥ pairs of the above 8.

[kaoticAntagonist]

D'aaawww...

I fully support human/troll moirallegiance. I ship diamonds for every troll that has contemplated sloppy makeouts with a human, especially Terezi ♦ Dave, but also Vriska ♦ John, Kanaya ♦ Rose, and Karkat ♦ Jade.

Also all the obvious ♥ pairs of the above 8.

...

I support them all as 's...

[Decker]

D'aaawww...

I fully support human/troll moirallegiance. I ship diamonds for every troll that has contemplated sloppy makeouts with a human, especially Terezi ♦ Dave, but also Vriska ♦ John, Kanaya ♦ Rose, and Karkat ♦ Jade.

Also all the obvious ♥ pairs of the above 8.

...

I support them all as 's...

Haters gonna hate?

[Tenebrais]

I always felt that equivocating love and pity in troll romance is the wrong way of going about it, and I see a lot of people doing it.
So I figured I'd write this little thing.

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-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling gardenGnostic [GG] --

CG: WE’VE GOT TO SERIOUSLY FUCKING TALK ABOUT SOMETHING.
GG: well in that case......
GG: PASSWORD!
CG: FUCK YOUR STUPID PASSWORDS AND FUCK YOU.
CG: WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE ROSE GIRL?
GG: rose?
GG: ummmm..... she’s my friend?
GG: you already know that!!!
CG: DON’T PLAY COY WITH ME.
CG: YOU’VE BEEN PRETTY FUCKING BRAZEN ABOUT IT.
GG: about what???
CG: YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING TOLD ME YOU WERE FLUSHED FOR HER!
GG: WHAT????
GG: WHAT THE HELL MADE YOU THINK THAT?
CG: OKAY, CALM DOWN.
CG: I’VE SEEN THE WAY YOU TALK ABOUT HER.
GG: the way i talk about her??????
GG: rose is just my friend!!
GG: a really good friend
GG: but still just a friend!!!
GG: i dont want to date her
CG: EARTH HUMAN BULLSHIT.
CG: EVER SINCE SHE DID HER STUPID BLACKOUT THING YOU’VE DONE NOTHING BUT PITY HER.
CG: OH LOOK HOW MISGUIDED AND RECKLESS SHE’S BEING
CG: SHE’S GOING TO GET HERSELF HURT
CG: I WISH I COULD PULL HER FUCKING ASS OUT OF THE FIRE
GG: that doesnt mean i love her!!!
CG: IT’S PRETTY FUCKING DAMNING EVIDENCE
CG: YOU CAN’T DENY THAT
CG: WHAT, DOES JOHN’S HOMESEXUALS THING APPLY TO GIRLS TOO?
GG: yes!!!!
GG: sometimes!!!!!
GG: probably.....
CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
GG: i dont know!!
GG: but i dont have a thing for rose okay??
GG: human friends look out for each other
GG: its what we do!!!!
CG: I SUDDENLY DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING.
GG: like you ever did!!
CG: FUCK YOU HARLEY.
GG: fuck you too!!!
CG: BUT SERIOUSLY, WHAT?
CG: PITY IS JUST A THING FRIENDS DO?
GG: yeah!!
GG: i look out for my friends and they look out for me and were all better off for it!
GG: you dont even have to be friends
GG: youd pity a homeless guy on the street and give him money!!
GG: i think thats how it works
GG: ive never actually been to a street ._.
CG: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU MANAGE TO DO THAT?
CG: SERIOUSLY HOW DO YOU HAVE TIME TO PITY SO MANY PEOPLE
CG: HUMANS ARE FUCKING WEIRD.
GG: well yeah youre a troll!!
GG: how many trolls have you killed already???
CG: I TOLD YOU BEFORE
CG: IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS
CG: AND I LIKE YOU LESS EVERY TIME YOU ASK.
CG: AND AS YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT IS ALREADY DRAWING BLOOD FROM A STONE.
GG: oh god dont tell me youre doing that thing
CG: WHAT THING?
GG: that hate crush thing trolls do
GG: i dont think i could handle that ._.
CG: FUCK NO
CG: NO THAT IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
CG: I DO ACTUALLY LIKE YOU, OKAY?
CG: I GUESS
CG: JUST
CG: FORGET I SAID ANYTHING, OKAY?

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gardenGnostic [GG] --

[SilverKunama]

I always felt that equivocating love and pity in troll romance is the wrong way of going about it, and I see a lot of people doing it.
So I figured I'd write this little thing.

Little Thing

I love you because it's very rare that people remember that pity =/= love (myself included ^_^
I love you extra because my shipper-brain can add KarkatJade to the end of that with no problems YAY.

EDIT: And now to completely go against what I said up there, have this:
I went 'right, I'm over 18, I should stop writing like a twelve year old' and decided to write something makeout-y.
That didn't end up happening.
Instead, have...

A Moment

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One morning - they're not sure what the times are anymore, but the Knight and Maid are at least keeping them to a regular schedule - Karkat enters his respite block and finds a girl sitting on his bed. She seems to have been waiting a while, since she has a book for sketching balanced on her knees. Her glasses have fallen down to the tip of her nose. When she hears him enter, she captchalogues the book and pencil, and pushes her glasses up. She stares at him evenly through them. It's not an expression he's used to seeing on her, and it unnerves him. Finally, she speaks.

"Karkat, teach me about trolls. Pleeeease?" her cool demeanor slips at the end. Karkat suspects she was trying to emulate Rose, and wonders why she'd bother. He also wonders what it is she wants to learn. So he asks. She shrugs, and explains to him that their similarities are confusing, and their differences even more so. She wants to learn, apparently, what makes trolls different to humans. Well, she always was the most bizarre of the humans, Karkat supposes, it's in her nature to appear somewhere she shouldn't be and ask completely fucking crazy questions out of nowhere.

Karkat sits on his bed - the humans gifted all the trolls beds, and while they're not culturally appropriate, even Karkat admits they're much comfier than recuperacoons - and leans against the pillows. Jade sits at the other end, crossing her legs and watching him expectantly through spectacled eyes. He clears his throat, and begins to launch into the now well-established explanation of quadrants. Jade cuts him off, shaking her head and pouting, "I know that stuff!" she says, sounding annoyed, "You told us all on our first day here," now she leans her chin on her hands, resting her elbows on her knees, "What about the rest of your life?"

Something about her steady, vivid green gaze seems inviting, and Karkat finds himself teaching the curious girl about lusii. He rubs his watering eyes furiously while talking about his own lusus, but if she notices, she doesn't comment. He tells her about the time his lusus was hurt by a musclebeast while getting food, and he had to nurse him back to health before he could eat again. He recalls the fights he had with his lusus to calm it down, and the almost apologetic manner it had after the shouting and violence calmed down. He is surprised to find he misses it. Not just his lusus, but the whole of Alternia. Even the stupid hemospectrum bullshit. It sucked, he thinks, but it was home. Jade nods sympathetically, and he realises he's been speaking aloud.

Karkat stops speaking. He's too embarassed. Letting his defences slip, in front of one of the humans no less! And he hates himself as the candy red blood rushes to his cheeks. It paints 'mutant' across his face. A bright red stamp declaring him culled. Everybody knows. He knows everybody knows. And yet it still humiliates him, makes him remember the stories he hasn't told Jade. The ones where other young trolls threw stones at his hive, shattering the window he was watching them through. The part of the tale where it was another troll who hurt his lusus on its search for food. The reason he always took the arguments and fighting, because he felt it was somehow his fault for being hatched. All these things he doesn't say.

Maybe it's to fill the silence, or maybe just because she wants to, but Jade shuffles closer to him, and starts telling stories about her own childhood. She smiles while she speaks, but her stories sound lonely. Just her and the demon dog, and a dead guardian, alone on an island. Karkat watches her speak. He wonders if she knows she talks with her hands. She tells him a story about Squiddles, complete with wiggling fingers and giggles, and checks him for a reaction. He realises she's trying to cheer him up. Something about the naive, hopeful expression on her face as she watches him sends a jolt of pain through his chest. A rasping sob escapes his throat, and he reflexively buries his face in his arms.

The balance of weight on the spring mattress shifts. Springs squeak quietly in protest. Karkat feels a pair of warm, gentle arms wrap themselves around his shoulders. Silence reigns as hot, pale red tears fall down his cheeks and soak the sleeves of his shirt. Jade begins murmuring comfortingly in his ear. He's not sure what she's saying and neither is she, but her tone is soft and calming, and Karkat is able to control himself again.imself again. She sits patiently while he wipes his face clean on his sleeve, her arms never moving from their protective grasp. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and mentally declares himself no longer a pathetic emotional wreck. He raises his head, at last, to let Jade know he's okay now, and finds her closer than he expected.

They sit there, nose to nose, for what seems to be an eternity. Jade's surprisingly calm eyes meet Karkat's panicked ones. They draw the moment out for as long as they can manage, until Karkat doesn't know if he'll ever breathe normally again and Jade's heart has almost leapt out her mouth. His hand twitches as he tries to make a decision he wasn't prepared for. Then Jade smiles, and turns, and asks something innocuous about recuperacoons, and the moment is gone forever. But whenever their eyes meet, there is an agreement; one day, when they're both prepared, there will be a new moment.

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Sorry it's so chunky. I know a lot of people like to read stuff that's all spaced out, but I really, really don't like trying to write like that or edit my writing so it's like that :/

Tenses are FUN.

[Tenebrais]

That's cute! It's always nice to see the cultural differences being explored.

[Megafire]

Chapter 6 of Kismesis: the Snake is up on AO3, for those of you interested.

[Path]

Oh jeez hi guys. Fanfic thread, hi. I'm sorry I walked out on you. I've been sort of scattered. I love you. I want to bring you flowers but I don't know what you like.

Anyhow over at AO3 MisterMental is kicking my ass at hot Sleuth/Slick stuff so maybe I can get some of that on? Year-end exams sort of broke my writing groove and now I don't have any ideas. Anybody have anything they want to see? Can't guarantee it, but honestly my brain just feels empty. Thanks yall.

Also I'm like 15 pages behind here or something. Wave o' comments will be forthcoming. Sometime.

[Rimbaum]

OMG HI PATH! :O You're still alive!


YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT. Mmm, Jealous Droog Problem Sleuth

[anonymousComrade]

So I wasn't sure how to proceed with a certain series of mine until I woke up yesterday

Now I have all the plans

All of them

But first, this

Hunters: Part 1

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(Meanwhile.)

>Who's this crazy bitch?

Your name is not important. Furthermore, it's probably better that no record of it is made, as your enemies (and you have made quite a few of them to get where you are now, make no mistake about that) could use that information against you, and if there's anything you're good at, it's controlling the flow of information. Other than your superiors, you have told no one your name, save your partner, and that was merely an unfortunate side effect of being broodmates with her.

You are a member of THE GUILD OF BOUNTY HUNTERMINATORS, Alternia's worst-kept secret. For a shadowy government-funded secret clan of assassins and spies whose primary objective is to bring in enemy targets of importance, The Guild is rather well-known amongst the general populace. Most of what they think they know is hyperbole and exaggeration, though. If The Guild had half the influence, power and numbers as the urban legends claim, it would be the largest combined effort in troll history. But it's that reputation that brings a chill to the spines and spine-analogues of fugitives of all species across the galaxy. Fear is the greatest weapon in your arsenal, but your organization is not omnipotent.

No, The Guild, and Bounty Hunterminators themselves, are just ordinary trolls. Trolls who happen to be excellent at what they do and leave no trace of their presence while doing so, but ordinary trolls nonetheless. You are a particularly promising member of The Guild; it takes most members a sweep what you have managed to accomplish in perigrees.

There is no squad with a humorously apocalyptic-themed name that you belong to. You report to no one, save the Chief, and you're pretty sure he's not even on this ship. Decentralization is the Guild's policy; you are not entirely sure whether there are any Bounty Hunterminators aboard, with the exception of your partner, of course. You either work only with her, or far more often, alone, typically stalking your target for days at a time; waiting for the precise moment when you can move in, unseen, undetected; draw your weapon; take careful aim, and---

Someone tackles you from behind, knocking you to the ground. Your blade would be half-embedded in your assailant's torso if you didn't already know who it was. She does this shit all the time and you have never been able to see it coming, because she is the sneakiest there is. You swear, if she weren't your best friend you would have punched her in the snout to establish aggression a long time ago.

"Hey, Aitris! What'cha doin'?" If your arms weren't pinned to the ground, now would be the perfect time for a facepalm 2x combo.

Badass introductions wasted: 1/2

==>

You go by the name of AITRIS, though you still refuse to reveal your last name. There must be a couple dozen other trolls who share your first name on this ship alone, let alone thousands more in the galaxy, so that particular reveal isn't likely to put you in any real danger, you suppose.

You and your fellow Guild member, BYAKKA, stand in your shared respiteblock. Both of you have a number of interests, the vast majority of which are highly irrevelant. All Bounty Hunterminators are outfitted with an impressive Strife Portfolio, including two types of firearms and a melee weapon. You and Byakka both possess the Handgunkind specibus. You have also allocated Riflekind and Bladekind, while Byakka specializes in Machinegunkind and Clawkind.

The sound of the fax machine printing out an incoming message interrupts your train of thought. You are not sure why the Chief insists on using such outdated methods of communication, especially when the army has developed a perfectly good instant messaging system, but you go along with it. At least it's so loud that it's impossible to not notice a new assignment coming in.

>Aitris: Quickly retrieve printed message from antique device.

You pluck the page from the machine and glance over it. It's a new mission, and you and Byakka will be working together for this one. Seems like some seafaring douchebag back on Alternia raided an R&D lab and stole the prototype of some new weapon, and it's up to you and Byakka to sneak in, take it back, and if he's working on production, blow the place sky-high. You are to leave within the hour.

Sounds like an average assignment to you.

>Aitris and Byakka: Make ready for departure.

The two of you proceed to your shared personal interstellar vehicle. As with all the missions before this one, you find the storage compartment stocked with the gear you'll need.

You have no idea who does this.

>Check inventory.

After popping the back hatch, taking stock of your supplies, and realizing you could have just read the note your supplier left behind instead of doing it manually, you find yourself in possession of the following items:

* *
Two (2) standard-issue Guild handguns (your ALTERNIAN PEACEMAKER and Byakka's EQUALIZER)
One (1) bolt-action sniper rifle (THE INSPECTOR'S ASSOCIATE)
One (1) sub-machine gun (PEZZ INDUSTRIES PRAY-N-SPRAY)
Six (6) 12-round HANDGUN CLIPS
Eighteen (18) SNIPER RIFLE ROUNDS
Three (3) 30-round SMG MAGAZINES
Zero (0) melee weapons (because you keep those on you at all times)
Three (3) packages of Blammo! brand PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE (timed and remote DETONATORS included)
Two (2) doses of REVERSE HEMOSHIFT (to conceal your blood identities)
Two (2) forged CASTE BADGES (to conceal your social identities)
Four (4) bags of Trollberto brand Teriyaki-style MUSCLEBEAST JERKY (to keep your energy up in the field, because it never goes bad, and it's tasty)
Two (2) CYANIDE CAPSULES (you are 100% certain you will never use these, ever, because you're too good to get captured)
* *

>Aitris and Byakka: Board craft and depart.

Good idea. Alternia's a quarter of a lightsweep from your current position, and while this craft is equipped with an FTL drive, it'll still take most of a day to get there.

>Aitris and Byakka: Administer Reverse Hemoshift.

Also a good idea. This stuff takes most of a day to fully take effect, and if you're going to blend in with this guy's goons, the two of you are going to need to not be in the middle-highs of the hemospectrum.

How'd you know to do that, anyway? It's like you've got experience with this stuff. But that would be silly.

You also apply the forged caste badges to your clothing. You can't half-ass the lowblooded thug disguise, after all.

You strap yourself into the pilot's seat; Byakka takes the gunner position and does the same. You punch in the startup sequence and the engine slowly hums to life. You key in another sequence and the hangar's energy field activates to keep the ship's atmosphere in while the hangar doors open.

You grip the flight stick and step on the gas. The hangar doors close behind you as your craft exits the ship. Then you activate the autopilot and head back to the bunk to get some sleep, because fuck sitting in this chair and staring at space for the next sixteen hours.

Byakka does the same. It pays to be well-rested before the start of a mission, after all.

(Later.)

>Aitris: Land the ship already.

You can't land the ship. You're too busy being asleep!

>Byakka: Land the ship already.

Okay.

Usually it's Aitris or the autopilot landing the craft, but you've had to do it yourself more than a few times, and you haven't destroyed the ship yet!

Well, except for that one time, but that totally wasn't your fault and The Guild only had to dock your next two paychecks for a new one anyway, so no real harm done, right?

Anyway, time to concentrate. Fire retros as the craft plunges through the Alternian atmosphere, deploy aurocorrect system, decrease descent speed. Over there, that's about a night's hike from the target, land there. You maneuver the craft over your chosen landing spot and pick a nice, clear, even area to touch down in.

Fire retros, descend slowly. Gotta be careful about this. Just a touch further, aaaaaand

*CRUNCH*

GodDAMNIT you forgot to deploy the landing gear again.

>Aitris: Be rudely awoken by the sound of metal scraping against rock.

Way ahead of you, chief.

Welp, you've definitely landed. That horrible scraping noise usually means Byakka has forgotten to deploy the landing gear again.

>Aitris: Step outside and check the damage.

You were right. Fucking hell, you'll have to call for evac, there's no way you'll be able to restore the craft to working order by yourselves. You pull out your portable two-way communication device and punch in a message to The Guild. Not long afterward, you receive your reply.

You have three days before your ride gets here. In that time, you are to infiltrate the thief's hideout, steal back the prototype weapon, and blow the place to hell.

>Aitris: Start the mission.

You divide the weapons, ammunition and supplies up evenly between you and Byakka as you prepare for the night-long trek. It will not easy; you will be racing against daybreak and evading musclebeasts the entire way. But it is nothing you aren't prepared for.

Three days.

Two hunters.

One prototype.

Let's get to work, shall we?

Notes:

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Yes, this is a tie-in.

Yes, both of these characters are important.

Yes, the guy who stole the prototype is probably exactly who you think it is.

No, I can't reveal who our protagonists are.

But you can guess.

Man am I ever excited about this, this is gonna end up great if I've got any say in the matter

[draconicAlgorithm]

@ anonymousComrade: Did... did you just make Equiuscestor and Nepetacestor ridiculously badass? Yessss.

EDIT: Actually, now I'm not so sure. But it's still really good regardless.

[SilverKunama]

I was looking for inspiration and writing practice, so I wrote 5 fics based on the first 5 songs my iTunes played me. They were all love songs of various genres. All 5 are up on my Ao3, but 4 of them kinda suck. This one I love, so imma show you all!

That's When He Told Her (by The Proclaimers)

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She is dreaming. She knows she is dreaming, because there are snippets flashing past that are from a life she didn't have. Standing on a track, in the gloom that meant the sun was threatening to rise, with a troll she couldn't quite recognise. Them embracing tightly, their lips meeting in a lingering kiss before they parted to return to their hives.

Sweeps later, her, in a room, with the same troll - she can tell by the wild mess of hair and the horns - throwing her blue kitty hat across the room as the two meet at the mouth. They are far more passionate than she saw in the last flash, and she is horribly embarassed to see the bucket nearby, even more than watching her older self shed her clothes.

The next moment is nothing. She's somewhere black. She looks around, brows furrowed, and clutches her tail nervously. The troll from the images is walking out from the black, slowly becoming visible. She suppresses a gasp as the Capricorn sign becomes visible, and is suddenly overcome with shyness. He stands close to her, and bends down to meet her eyes. He looks at her as he runs a hand down her cheek with an expression that seems oddly sad for her clownish friend. She's confused.

"I'm sorry, kitty," he whispers to her, "If I freaked ya out a bit," he seems somehow ashamed of himself, "But I don't think we're gonna get any more time, y'know? Our number's up. Just thought it wasn't fair to letcha go without showing you what a motherfuckin' miracle you were to me."

Nepeta looks at him, not understanding. He shakes his head, and his mop of unruly hear goes wild."You're gonna wake up in a minute, kitty. When you do, some awful shit's gonna go down between us. But when all's said 'n' done, you'll remember, kitty, won'tcha?" Gamzee sounds almost pleading to her, "Cuz you're my favourite motherfuckin' miracle 'til the day I go meet my mirthful fuckin' messiahs."

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Yeah, I ship things that aren't Jade/Karkat.

[anonymousComrade]

@ anonymousComrade: Did... did you just make Equiuscestor and Nepetacestor ridiculously badass? Yessss.

EDIT: Actually, now I'm not so sure. But it's still really good regardless.

I guess I can reveal this much: Nepetacestor, yes (I mean come on, it's pretty obvious she's Byakka; tacklepounce greetings? Clawkind? There's no hiding it)

But this is a tie-in to Re: Champion and Equiuscestor is a patriotic sweaty guy in it, so him, not so much

If nobody has guessed Aitris's identity yet, then I am doing a far better job at keeping it a secret than I thought

[Hazel]

GG: youd pity a homeless guy on the street and give him money!!
GG: i think thats how it works
GG: ive never actually been to a street ._.

Haha yes!

Ahem. I have intelligent commentary, I swear. I just... left it in my jacket?

[draconicAlgorithm]

@ anonymousComrade: Did... did you just make Equiuscestor and Nepetacestor ridiculously badass? Yessss.

EDIT: Actually, now I'm not so sure. But it's still really good regardless.

I guess I can reveal this much: Nepetacestor, yes (I mean come on, it's pretty obvious she's Byakka; tacklepounce greetings? Clawkind? There's no hiding it)

But this is a tie-in to Re: Champion and Equiuscestor is a patriotic sweaty guy in it, so him, not so much

If nobody has guessed Aitris's identity yet, then I am doing a far better job at keeping it a secret than I thought

Yeah, reading back, it seems more not-Equius. I think I just sort of assumed because of Nepeta. xD Also I noticed that you put "her" in the description on AO3. Put into that context, there's only one person I can see it being, but I'll just sit back and wait to find out. (Maybe I should get caught up again on Re: Champion, too, hehe.)

[ArmsAreLoud]

So yeah here's a thing.

A Lesson To Learn

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AG: Yeah, yeah, you go first. Go ahead, Scratch. I'm w8ing.
I can assure you that this is a mistake, but it is a mistake that you were destined to make. Your pride would not allow otherwise.

Foolish girl. It's almost sad how easy this is going to be. It is fine, however. An important lesson is to be learned from her embarrassing defeat.

Pawn to e4. Your move.

Almost automatically she moves her pawn to e5. Standard move, nothing special. I complete the gambit which she accepts.

AG: Woooooooow Scratch, already losing pawns? Seems a 8it early for that.
There is always a greater plan, my girl. You will learn soon enough. Bishop to c4, by the way.
AG: Queen to h4. Check.

Checking early, as always. So aggressive.

King to f1.
AG: Pawn to b5.
Bishop to b5. There goes your pawn, Vriska. What will you possibly do without your beloved bull?
AG: What?
Merely making a joke. Make your move, my pet.
AG: You know how much I h8 it when you call me that. It's creepy.
Ah, but I call all of my pretty young ladies "my pet".
AG: Even creepier!!!!!!!! Anyways, Knight to f6.
Knight to f3. Your blood-drinking lover is in jeopardy, Vriska.
AG: Will you stop that!?!?!?!? Queen to h6.
Pawn to d3.

Control of the board is now mine. I can sense her fuming on the other side of this conversation. It is quite humorous, I assure you. I am a bit of an expert on comedy after all.

AG: Knight to h5.
Poor move. Knight to h4.
AG: Oh, shut up Scr8tch. Queen to g5.
Knight to f5.
AG: Pawn to c6.
Pawn to g4.
AG: Knight to f6.
Rook to g1.
AG: Pawn to b5.
I win. Pawn to h4.
AG: What are you talking a8out? I just took a piece! Queen to g6.
Advantage in numbers does not necessarily lead to victory, my pet. Pawn to h5.
AG: Whatever. Queen to f5.
Do you not want to know what truly secures victory? Queen to f3.
AG: I don't really want to hear your opinion 8ut I know you will tell me anyways. Knight to g8.
True. But not now. It will make more sense to you as the game progresses. Bishop to f4.
AG: Queen to f6.
Just can't decide what you want to do with that Queen, can you? Knight to c3.
AG: Please just stop talking. 8ishop to c5.
Knight to d5.
AG: Queen to 82.
Bishop to d6.
AG: ........What? OK. Gr8. 8ishop to g1. There goes your Rook, Scratch. Kind of an important piece.
AG: :::
It doesn't matter. Pawn to e5.
AG: Whaaaaaaaat? You're giving me the other Rook, too? Thanks! Queen to a1, o8viously. You are now out of Rooks.
I am disappointed in you, Vriska. Checkmate is impossible to avoid now. Of course, it was impossible to avoid from the start. King to e2.
AG: 8luh. Knight to a6.
Knight to g7. Check.
AG: King to d8.
Queen to f6. Check.
AG: Aaaaaaaand there goes your Queen. Knight to f6. Is that not important, too?
Not important in the slightest. Only your King is important. Your's is in checkmate, now by the way. Bishop to e7.
AG: ........What? 8ut I was destroying you! I took all of your power pieces! All of them!
You were not "destroying" me in any manner. You were destroying the nothings that I used to win the game. There is a lesson to be learned for you, Vriska.
AG: Wh8t? Wh8t lesson????????
You should not be so concerned with the well-being of those less than you. If you were to play life as you did this chess game, you will die as your king did.

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling ???

I think she learned. She will use it soon. I should prepare.

A/N

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So yeah. Vriska playing chess. I originally was going to make this a VriskaRose fanfic but I decided having Scratch as Vriska's opponent was more interesting.

The idea was that Scratch used his chess games with Vriska to teach her to be more of a huge bitch. Yeah. The chess game was entirely stolen from the Immortal Game, in which a chess genius sacrificed basically all of his good pieces for the sake of checkmate.

It should be mentioned that I am terrible at chess and I found the Immortal Game looking for chess games I could rip off of.

[Path]

I am working on reading through the last 15 pages or whatever, but Tenebrais, I noticed something about love =/= pity, and I got sidetracked here. Basically you rock. This is what I want from my Karkat/Jade (no matter what the quadrant).

[Path]

Okay so I wrote something and it's neither Midnight City nor postable here. I can't even link to it. And what's worse? The Midnight City one I'm working on is ALSO way too pornographic for this forum. Well, you guys know where to find it. I'll post again when I have something more acceptable for public consumption. :P

[SORD]

OK so i wrote a Strider-fic because John and Dave are my cute little bff-4-life platonic OTP and Bro is the coolest guardian. I gave this a once-over proofread and I hope I kept my tenses straight.

This is my first fanfic EVER.

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The only thing Dave's asked for this year is a visit from his little Pesterchum friend, and you can't really fight his logic - there's two weeks of Christmas vacation coming up, they've been friends for years and never met face-to-face, he's used his internet comic money to purchase an air mattress. His arguments are flawless, presented in an ironic letter to Santa that you found magnet-ed to the fridge. You don't say anything, you just put the letter in an envelope addressed to the North Pole and make the kid bring it to the post office. The two of you never speak of it again. Christmas comes and he unwraps a circuit-bent Teddy Ruxpin and a hula-hoop. Not a blink. He hides his disappointment well. This is going to be so fucking great.

(Incidentally, he gives you a CD with twelve mashups of Jesse Fredrick's classic "Everywhere You Look". You're willing to overlook the blasphemy of adulterating the "Full House" theme because these mixes are pretty god damn good. Especially considering the remixer postdates the show by almost a decade and is still a year shy of high school.)

The next day you peace out of the apartment, disappearing on one of your usual mysterious errands. You leave the traditional crisp green Benjamin in a sympathy card. "Sorry for your loss. You are in our prayers. Yours in Christ, Cal." Fucking glittery white lilies on the front, generic script font inside, perfect fucking ironic maximum sentiment from a god damn inanimate object. You deface the bill with an ironic dick in the great inventor's mouth. This card is so ironic it would never be allowed near Magneto's plastic cell. Dude would break out in a heartbeat. Got to max out the irony now because you are about to bust out a real heartwarming earnest fucking Christmas miracle all over this kid's dumb preteen face. You're Batman, and you're about to bring your Young Ward the trapeeze his dad died on. You're Superman, and you're about to give Jimmy Olsen an exclusive fucking interview and an "attaboy". Eighteen angels are about to get their wings. You are going to give this fucking kid the best gift he ever got, and this includes the gift of life.

Half an hour later you get to the airport and the plane arrives, miraculously, on time. You're in the baggage claim holding up a sign reading "Egbert" in Palatino Linotype. The dopiest, derpiest, adorablest bucktoothed little guy comes up to you and calls you - get this - "Mr. Strider", like you're a real grownup. Yes, you dig the fuck out of that. Mister Strider. Hell fucking yes.

Embracing your new title you give the kid an ironic fatherly hair muss and a "How's the old man?" You could give two shits about the old man, you know he's fine and will be fine up until you both bite the big one next year, but misters always ask after the family and you are going to bring this responsible adult thing to a previously impossible level. You're so responsible you ask if he's eaten yet, and despite his (totally delightful, utterly charmingly, wholly uncool) protests you purchase him a pile of gross chicken fingers at the airport TGI Friday's. Kid douses them in so much salt you'd think he was facing a basket of live slugs, consumes them in a single unreal chicken-oriented inhalation, then visibly flinches at the mention of dessert. You make a mental note to pick up a salt lick for this week, the kind you'd get for deer if you had a backyard. This kid is so anti-sucrose you'd think he was a concerned Christian mother and sugar was a Harry Potter book in the public school's library. Shine on, you crazy doofy diamond.

You think maybe he might be the king of irony, because despite his dessert-flinching he is the sweetest fucking kid you have ever met. You have, like, eight fresh and painful cavities in your heart right now. You should make an appointment with the heart dentist, and maybe get a heart root canal. You might need heart dentures. You'll need to start chewing heart-denture-safe gum.

You admit to yourself that this metaphor is getting pretty long in the tooth. (Nobody can deny that this is the most dad-ly of puns. You are owning this mister thing.)

You pay the check, ignoring the number the (obviously underage) waitress left on the bill. Sorry sweetheart, you're in ironic surrogate parenting mode and you're about to ramp it up. You clap a hand on your little sidekick's shoulder and say "Let's go, son" and he looks at you with the hugest worshipy mooncalf eyes made terrifying by his horrible magnifying-lens glasses. Out to the car, onto the highway, make sure you're listening to the dad-est of rock stations (oh god, Tears in Heaven, the absolute best of the worst, leave it to Clapton to write a poor man's acoustic "Candle in the Wind" about his son's death by negligence, and it is so perfect in both irony and dadliness) and you're back at the apartment building before you can say "Sixty Minutes Commercial Free Classic Rock." You've got to manhandle your charge through the front door and into the elevator because this kid will not stop gawking at every single stupid thing in front of him. You don't know how Dave managed to meet an Amish kid online. You make another mental note to not take any photos because you sure as hell don't need any fucking wide-eyed innocent little boy souls haunting your Nikon point-and-shoot.

Stepping out of the elevator you clap a hand over the kid's mouth because he can't shut up about the fucking Skymall catalogue. Yes, you've seen the World's Largest Crossword Puzzle Only $59.99. No, you don't know what a Personal Neck-Worn Air Ionizer does. Kid gets the idea and finally stops babbling, and you guide him to your front door, ring the bell, and flash-step away. Not too far though. You want to be close enough to hear this.

A few minutes later Dave opens the door. There's a pause, then a warbling, choked-up, struggling-for-cool "Sup". A squeal like air escaping the stretched-taut mouth of a balloon and the distinct thuds of a bro-hug-and-mutual-back-pound. And is that - yes, it is - TWO distinct sets of sniffles.

You fucking lose it, laughing so hard you're doubled over and gasping for breath.

You are, have always been, and will forever be the absolute best.

Everywhere You Look, by Jesse Friedman (the voice of a generation)

[Specs112]

A/N

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So yeah. Vriska playing chess. I originally was going to make this a VriskaRose fanfic but I decided having Scratch as Vriska's opponent was more interesting.

The idea was that Scratch used his chess games with Vriska to teach her to be more of a huge bitch. Yeah. The chess game was entirely stolen from the Immortal Game, in which a chess genius sacrificed basically all of his good pieces for the sake of checkmate.

It should be mentioned that I am terrible at chess and I found the Immortal Game looking for chess games I could rip off of.

It should be mentioned that I actually recognized the chess game you were ripping off.
It's a pretty good analogy for those characters, too.

[anonymousComrade]

I wrestled with AO3 for thirty goddamn minutes trying to get table tags to work, and I gave up because hurr, let's vomit line breaks everywhere for no good fucking reason

So excuse me if I barely even give a damn about formatting this correctly

Hunters: Part 2

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(Eight hours later.)

>Aitris and Byakka: Arrive already.

Done.

You manage to arrive at the thief's hideout by the coast right before sunrise without too much difficulty. There is one run-in with a particularly territorial musclebeast, but it was nothing you and your partner couldn't handle.

SUPPLIES REMAINING:

AITRIS
ALTERNIAN PEACEMAKER (12/12 rounds)
THE INSPECTOR'S ASSOCIATE (5/5 rounds)
Double-bladed sword: CUELEBRE'S TALONS
2 12-round HANDGUN CLIPS
17 SNIPER RIFLE ROUNDS
1.5 bags of MUSCLEBEAST JERKY
1 CYANIDE CAPSULE

BYAKKA
EQUALIZER (9/12 rounds)
PEZZ INDUSTRIES PRAY-N-SPRAY (30/30 rounds)
Claw gloves: LOGAN'S PIGSTICKERS
2 12-round HANDGUN CLIPS
3 30-round SMG MAGAZINES
1.5 bags of MUSCLEBEAST JERKY
3 PLASTIC EXPLOSIVES
1 CYANIDE CAPSULE

There are no caves or other structures in the immediate vicinity of this place, so you will have to take refuge from the blistering sun within the hideout. Should you be discovered, the measures you have taken to conceal your identities should allow you to blend in with the other hired thugs.

>Aitris and Byakka: Enter.

You'll have to scope out a suitable entry point first. Obviously, simply trying to walk through the front door won't do you any good. Even if there weren't a burly armed guard stationed there, you find it very hard to believe you could bypass the heavy iron gate blocking the entrance without raising suspicion.

No, you'll have to inspect the security fence's entire perimeter for a weakness you can exploit without making a racket and sounding the alarm. You'd better do it fast, too, unless you want to be burnt alive, because the red tint in the horizon means the sun's about to rise. You have no time to spare, so oh good lord Byakka's already through.

How does she keep doing that.

>Byakka: Explain yourself.

"There's a bent section of fence about 25 distance units west, just barely big enough for me to squirm through. You shouldn't have any trouble getting through either!"

You make your way west and by the Empress, she's right. Well, that was easier than expected.

>Aitris and Byakka: Enter the building.

This won't be as easy as just finding a bend in the security fence through sheer dumb luck. The only obvious entrance, again, is the front door, which, in case you'd forgotten, is manned by an armed guard. There are a few second-story windows in the back of the building but you didn't bring any climbing gear oh come ON.

You sigh. That doesn't seem to stop Byakka. Girl's got the agility of a purrbeast.

>Byakka: Scale the wall effortlessly.

The side of the building is build from some seriously low-grade wood, and the building itself is only two stories tall. There's no way such a small structure could house just the supplies a raiding crew capable of attacking an army R&D facility would need, let alone the crew itself. Most of the structure has to be underground or underwater, so they could probably afford to skimp on building materials for the above-ground portion. And oh man, did they ever. This shit is most definitely not up to code.

Your claws sink easily enough into the wall. You're actually kind of surprised your body weight doesn't cause them to just slice through it to the ground as you use them to climb to the window. Who even built this bulgesuck shack anyway? Off-worlders?

You make your way up to the window, work a claw under the glass and pop it open without any real trouble. These idiots don't keep their fence fixed or their windows locked, they're just asking for a break-in.

>Byakka: Help Aitris in.

Aitris isn't quite as adept at climbing as you are, so you search the room for a rope or some cable or anything that'll get your partner inside.

You find a length of apiculture network cabling. It'll have to do. You toss one end out of the open window and give Aitris a thumbs-up, then you tie the other end around your waist, lie down, plant your feet against the wall and grab hold.

>Aitris: Climb.

Is she serious? Network cable. Fucking network cable. Well, it is kind of thick. You guess it has to be, or the bees would eat through it.

You give it a couple of tugs, and it does not snap. Yeah, you suppose this could work.

You ascend the wall using the cable, hand over hand, inches at a time. It takes you a while but at no point does the network cable threaten to snap, unravel or break.

You captchalogue the cable once you enter the room. Who knows, maybe it'll come in handy later.

>Aitris and Byakka: Examine surroundings.

You are in a supply closest of some sort. Tools, jugs of paint, and other assorted items line the shelves on the walls.

The rest of the floor is similarly unimpressive. Everything is dusty and there's old junk and bits of scrap found here and there, but there's nothing particularly interesting.

==>

You make your way downstairs. The only other person here is the front guard, unaware of your intrusion. This is the place mentioned in the mission briefing, no question about that, but there's nothing here.

At least, on the surface. There's gotta be more to this place, but how to get there is eluding you. There are no other stairs, and a quick search of the rooms at ground level indicate no obvious point of entry.

An extended search turns up nothing, either. You and Byakka meet up in a small room with no obvious purpose to discuss how you're going to progress. You're hypothesizing that maybe this building is a decoy and that the real entrance must be in another one nearby when Byakka's hand smacks against a discolored section of wall as she stretches her arms.

The floor starts lowering. This wasn't a room, this was an elevator. It descends into a clear glass tube, underwater, giving you your first clear look at the true scope of the facility.

This place is fucking huge. And your partner discovered the entrance to it completely by blundering her way into it.

Or did she? Sometimes, she makes you wonder.

>Byakka: Gloat about how obvious the elevator's location was.

You can't! You're too busy wondering how the hell you did that.

>Aitris: Prepare for arrival.

Suddenly, you realize you've been traveling down a clear glass tube for the last five minutes. If there's someone who watches the elevator, they've most definitely spotted you.

But that would be silly, right? I mean, the entrance was hidden really well. Surely there's nobody who's entire reason for being here is to watch the elevator come down. That would be ridiculous.

Finally, the elevator begins to slow its descent, then comes to a stop. The door slides open to reveal three rather muscular trolls armed with scimitars. The one in front asks you, "'ey, who're you mugs?"

Son of a bitch.

>Aitris: Bluff.

You open your mouth to speak, but Byakka beats you to it.

"Hi! We're Aitris and Byakka, the new recruits!" If it wouldn't blow your now-flimsy cover, you'd facepalm so hard it'd probably kill you.

She must have said something right, though, because the guards lower their weapons. "Oh, okay. Da boss said he was spectin' new guys. Didn't say it was a coupla ladies though. Eh, whatever, help's help, am I right? Dis way, ladies."

He leads you to what you presume is meant to be your respiteblock. "The two 'a ya will be stayin' here. Nice view, ain't it?" He must be referring to the porthole, and you have to admit, the way the light of the rising sun illuminates the depths is kind of nice.

"Yeah, da boss takes care of his, ya know? Not like dat crazy bitch, da Marquise, oh no. I used ta serve on her crew, buncha filthy degenerates, the lot of 'em. But our Boss, he's a class act, all da way. Well, I'll be seein' you ladies around. Get some rest, we gotta load Boss's ship once sundown hits." And with that, the goons exit the room.

You glare at Byakka. "Well, this is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into. That was some quick thinking you showed back there, but, I have to ask..."

"Yeah, Aitris?"

"Why the hell did you give them our real names?"

"I didn't!" She giggles, and you are not entirely sure you want to know why. "I'm Aitris, and you're Byakka. Pretty sneaky, right?"

You groan. How did Byakka ever make it through training?

Notes:

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So I still love the idea of Nepeta's ancestor as a bumbling sidekick, but she's gotta be sort of competent, at least. After all, she works for The Guild (capital T, capital G, so you know they're all business), and she wouldn't make it in her line of work otherwise, right?

I suppose that's why they partner her with Aitris, to try to keep her more impulsive actions in check.

[SORD]

Ok wrote another Strider fic because, well, why not.

My first two fanfics ever in a single night? YES SIR

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He couldn't sleep in his room because of the cicadas screaming outside. Every thirteen years like some kind of stupid long-term insect clockwork. They are so, so, so god damn loud it is impossible to think unless you shut the windows, which is equally impossible because it is so god damn hot out. There is shimmery heat climbing off every scrap of road and roof and you guess heat rises, making your top-floor apartment even more unbearable. The giant air conditioner on the roof is good for maybe topping with a 2x2 Tetris block and not much else. The last time it was this loud and this hot your Young Ward (he hates that nickname because Robin's name is Dick Grayson and you're basically calling him "Penis") was six months old and cranky as a motherfucker. Pretty much just like right now, only cuter and louder and stupider. Right now Mr. Less-cute is sleeping in front of the TV, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can't help watching him breath through his mouth like he got lobotomized with a Lawn Jart. It kind of breaks your heart, how big he is, and you have to wonder when he grew up. He used to be so small. You remember:

Teething all over the place, cant find his god damn terrycloth puppet doll (eventually the all-important artifact was retrieved from the lost and found in the supermarket but during that one horrific sleepless week you bought so many stupid surrogate puppets they were hanging off your turntables and turning up in the blender of all places). Heat rash. Fevers and ice baths.

And then, oh god, the crawling. The asshole is mobile now, and you have no idea how to baby-proof a futon and a bunch of cinderblock furniture. You wind up duct-taping pillows to every edge in the apartment after he cruises into a concrete block at warp nine-point-eight. There's a giant red mark down his forehead that you're scared might be a permanent scar (you're also secretly scared it might have hurt him deeper than you can see, it goes right across the lingering softness of his fontanel and you have no idea what can damage a kid's brain). Turns out babies are actually tougher than most nightclub bouncers, because after three minutes of disconsolate sobbing he is once again grabbing at your throwing stars like a complete and utter tool. You're relieved and a little proud - his glasses stayed on the whole time. What a champ.

Your little champ is now trying to eat some cherry bombs that fell out of the ice dispenser. Things were so much easier three months ago, when he was essentially a screaming, shitting football.

Meanwhile teeth are exploding left and right out of his poor gums and the only frozen thing he'll chew on are the necks of Coronas. They're the exact right size and he's good about not biting down on the crimped cap so you toss one in the freezer every hour, pull the previous one out, and watch a baby chomp the hell out of an ice-cold brewski. It is hilarious. You find some baby boat shoes at the Salvation Army, dress him in a pink polo and pop the collar, take a photo and then strip him back down to his diaper because it is way, way, way too hot out for even the most ironic of clothing. You're in your boxers and when you pick him up your skin makes a gross connection to his and you have to kind of peel him off you.

Between the heat, the bugs, the teeth, the baby-pinball ricocheting off walls and furniture, and the missing soulmate-puppet you both get maybe an hour of sleep each night. This is an all-time low, down from the two hour average you got that first horrible week. The day is divided into four competitive segments: the food battle, where the objective is to spray the entire two-room apartment with a thick and even coating of strained peas; the low-speed chase, where the objective is to flee from one's elders (and betters) until one is either horribly injured or wedged underneath the futon, followed immediately by: the solo shriek-jam, a crying jag uninterrupted by the presentation of various sub-par puppet friend substitutes; and finally the diaper-bathtime-napping-getting-dressed-and-reading-Goodnight-Moon hour. You have been this tired before, but that was after Burning Man and that was a different kind of tired. This tired you can feel in your lower back, like you were some old man predicting rain.

And by god, your back is right. It rains like a motherfucker.

It is heaven.

The heat finally breaks, and drops down to an almost-frigid 85 degrees. The humidity clears up. No more heat shimmers coming off the road. The stupid terrycloth puppet makes a triumphant return and the inferior surrogates are relegated to the crawlspace leading to the roof (you have some ideas about how to use them, though). The little moron figures out how to look up when he's crawling, which drastically reduces the number of life-threatening injuries. And finally, miraculously, there are no teeth currently tearing up his mouthspace. It is the inversion of the perfect storm. Nobody dies; everybody wins.

In this three-day span of bliss you get your first solid eight hours of shuteye in half a year, with a freshly bathed, polo-shirted little dude passed out on your chest. It is an utterly perfect moment.

And now here he is, still a little dude but gaining on you fast, and you aren't sure you can handle it right now. You wish you could slow him down - maybe age a year every time the cicadas come back. One year for every thirteen. You could hang on to every beautiful minute, grab every horrible week with both hands and really enjoy it, really dig in and live it instead of merely enduring. You love this dumb fuck so hard it makes you choke, so you try not to think about it, but sometimes it catches up and you get caught up with the memories and you can hear him snore a little so you lean over and just -

brush the hair out of his face -

and whisper, so soft, you never say it but your chest hurts so bad right now and you just need to -

I love you.



He whispers back:
Pedo.

Oh, Striders. You are the best family.