MSPA Fanfiction VI: Trashy Rainbow Drinker Fanfiction

[Raikonos]

I think this illustrates the problem with using the Scratch as the main element in a fanfic. There's so many untold stories there that we'll never see, that are only implied to have happened/never happened.

I say "problem", but that doesn't mean I didn't thoroughly enjoy it.

Clearly the solution is people should write more altverse fic

*e* Also, @Graven_Image, WE HAVE TO GO DEEPER

And now Saiivux Capandr is getting written into the continuation of that thing from a page ago. I hope you're happy.

(also would you mind telling me who ended up crossed with who because by the end there i was having some trouble figuring it out)

[Graven_Image]

That may have been the point. Things were getting so screwed up, you didn't know what was what.

[Raikonos]

Well yeah, it got to the point where even the actual characters weren't sure what the fuck, but I'm assuming LS had at least a vague idea of who was crossed with who.

[lucidSeraph]

Well yeah, it got to the point where even the actual characters weren't sure what the fuck, but I'm assuming LS had at least a vague idea of who was crossed with who.

Yes.

EVERYONE got elements of everyone else in that timeline, but specifically -

Dave and Sollux were merged
John and Karkat were merged
Rose and Terezi were merged
Jade and Kanaya were merged

This was based a bit more on the character's actual relations to each other and roles in their respective worlds than anything else. Those were the PRIMARIES, and the strongest merges

Secondaries were:

Jade -> Karkat, Nepeta, Feferi, Tavros
Dave -> Karkat, Aradia, Terezi
John -> Gamzee, Equius, Terezi, Vriska
Rose -> Kanaya, Eridan, Aradia, Nepeta

Note that the secondaries are like... one single trait (like a love of knitting, or horn shape/eye color/whatever) but the primaries determine MOST features.

i probably missed someone...

[Nox]

Déjà vu

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Rose breathed heavily. How had it all gone this wrong? All the time looping from Dave, all that careful work by John, all that effort and courage from Jade, and all her own plotting and plans...and she still had to hit the big fat reset button. It felt wrong, like throwing the chess board across the room when you realized you could not win.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. Even the Thorns could not compare to the power they gave. And they did not bring the dark whispers that the thorns hit her with each time a spell was used. Despite this, they would see no use save for this.

There was no choice; she could not even destroy the Green Sun. Her dream self was dead, killed when Jack thought to hunt for Derse dreamers in his home territory. She was also the only one left, everyone...troll and human alike, were all dead. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Desperate times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and simply watched her partial oblivion come about.

SCRATCH

Rose breathed heavily. How had it all gone this wrong? All the time looping from Dave, all that careful work by John, all that effort and courage from Jade, and all her own plotting and plans...and she still had to hit the big fat reset button. It felt wrong, like throwing the chess board across the room when you realized you could not win.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. Even the Thorns could not compare to the power they gave. And they did not bring the dark whispers that the thorns hit her with each time a spell was used. Despite this, they would see no use save for this.

There was no choice; she could not even destroy the Green Sun. Her dream self was dead, killed when Jack thought to hunt for Derse dreamers in his home territory. She was also the only one left, everyone...troll and human alike, were all dead. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Desperate times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and simply watched her partial oblivion come about. Strange, she had a brief sense of Déjà vu.

SCRATCH

Rose hung her head in defeat. How had it all gone this wrong?

John had died when he hesitated to get on the quest bed; apparently something scared him about it. As a result, Jack was able to kill him OFF the bed, and force the use of his dream body as an extra life. Only he didn’t have one, because Prospite was decimated not long after his death.

Jade had lost it after that, pushing herself more and more against the game foes. She buried herself in combat and neglected her frog duties. She blamed herself; it was her prototyping that caused Jack to get First Guardian powers after all.

Dave...she hadn’t heard from him in a while. She suspected Jack was responsible.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. She was glad she had made these; they proved invaluable against her foes. Even they would not be enough to stop Jack. Only the Scratch could.

There was no choice; they had no idea how to stop the power of a First Guardian, and this session was doomed anyway. Only a reset could fix things now. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Desperate times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and suddenly had a strong sense of Déjà vu. She had only a moment to think how odd that was.

SCRATCH

Rose felt an ominous sense of dread fill her as she looked upon the Beat Mesa. Something about it filled her with fear. In fact if not for the lack of ANY other option she would never use it.

Perhaps it was the thought of the oblivion of self it would bring, but something more was...

NO! Jack was almost here...that meant that John was dead and their last-ditch effort failed. Now there WAS no choice. She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

She did not have time to contemplate the coming oblivion; the sword through her heart was a distraction.

SCRATCH

Jade never got in, the session was doomed. They had to reset it.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH

John didn’t ascend to God Tier, he simply died. Vriska could not have known that Jack had killed his dream self not long before.

The session was doomed. Rose had to reset it.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH

Rose felt like sobbing at the sight Beat Mesa. This...this was the object that she saw in all her nightmares over the years. The reason she could never sleep well. She never told him, but she had flinched slightly when she first met Dave...his shirt had unsettled her because of its similarity to...to this.

She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes as she shot the crack and started the scratch. She was shaking like a leaf as her oblivion rushed forward. Her last thought was a feeling of dread...dread and Déjà vu.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH

Rose looked at the Beat Mesa and screamed and screamed and screamed.

And she didn’t know why...

SCRATCH

[Megafire]

Déjà vu

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Rose breathed heavily. How had it all gone this wrong? All the time looping from Dave, all that careful work by John, all that effort and courage from Jade, and all her own plotting and plans...and she still had to hit the big fat reset button. It felt wrong, like throwing the chess board across the room when you realized you could not win.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. Even the Thorns could not compare to the power they gave. And they did not bring the dark whispers that the thorns hit her with each time a spell was used. Despite this, they would see no use save for this.

There was no choice; she could not even destroy the Green Sun. Her dream self was dead, killed when Jack thought to hunt for Derse dreamers in his home territory. She was also the only one left, everyone...troll and human alike, were all dead. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Despite times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and simply watched her partial oblivion come about.

SCRATCH

Rose breathed heavily. How had it all gone this wrong? All the time looping from Dave, all that careful work by John, all that effort and courage from Jade, and all her own plotting and plans...and she still had to hit the big fat reset button. It felt wrong, like throwing the chess board across the room when you realized you could not win.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. Even the Thorns could not compare to the power they gave. And they did not bring the dark whispers that the thorns hit her with each time a spell was used. Despite this, they would see no use save for this.

There was no choice; she could not even destroy the Green Sun. Her dream self was dead, killed when Jack thought to hunt for Derse dreamers in his home territory. She was also the only one left, everyone...troll and human alike, were all dead. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Despite times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and simply watched her partial oblivion come about. Strange, she had a brief sense of Déjà vu.

SCRATCH

Rose hung her head in defeat. How had it all gone this wrong?

John had died when he hesitated to get on the quest bed; apparently something scared him about it. As a result, Jack was able to kill him OFF the bed, and force the use of his dream body as an extra life. Only he didn’t have one, because Prospite was decimated not long after his death.

Jade had lost it after that, pushing herself more and more against the game foes. She buried herself in combat and neglected her frog duties. She blamed herself; it was her prototyping that caused Jack to get First Guardian powers after all.

Dave...she hadn’t heard from him in a while. She suspected Jack was responsible.

She held the quill in her hand, feeling the energy gather in it. She was glad she had made these; they proved invaluable against her foes. Even they would not be enough to stop Jack. Only the Scratch could.

There was no choice; they had no idea how to stop the power of a First Guardian, and this session was doomed anyway. Only a reset could fix things now. She was scared of being erased, but what else could she do?

Despite times, after all...

She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

Rose knew she had only moments, and suddenly had a strong sense of Déjà vu. She had only a moment to think how odd that was.

SCRATCH

Rose felt an ominous sense of dread fill her as she looked upon the Beat Mesa. Something about it filled her with fear. In fact if not for the lack of ANY other option she would never use it.

Perhaps it was the thought of the oblivion of self it would bring, but something more was...

NO! Jack was almost here...that meant that John was dead and their last-ditch effort failed. Now there WAS no choice. She aimed for the crack in the record, knowing that had to be the point of attack. A burst of white light spat forth from the twin wand tips, and struck the record. The crack swiftly spread to the far side, which would trigger the scratch.

She did not have time to contemplate the coming oblivion; the sword through her heart was a distraction.

SCRATCH

Jade never got in, the session was doomed. They had to reset it.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH

John didn’t ascend to God Tier, he simply died. Vriska could not have known that Jack had killed his dream self not long before.

The session was doomed. Rose had to reset it.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH

Rose felt like sobbing at the sight Beat Mesa. This...this was the object that she saw in all her nightmares over the years. The reason she could never sleep well. She never told him, but she had flinched slightly when she first met Dave...his shirt had unsettled her because of its similarity to...to this.

She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes as she shot the crack and started the scratch. She was shaking like a leaf as her oblivion rushed forward. Her last thought was a feeling of dread...dread and Déjà vu.

SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH
SCRATCH

Rose looked at the Beat Mesa and screamed and screamed and screamed.

And she didn’t know why...

SCRATCH

I think the words you're looking for are 'desperate times', not 'despite times'.

Other than that, damn, nice work.

[Graven_Image]

This is like that one episode of Star Trek: TNG.

You know the one I mean, right?


Oh, BTW, I'm thinking of getting my massive backlog of Indystuck onto AO3. Can anyone snag me an invite?

[Nox]

I think the words you're looking for are 'desperate times', not 'despite times'.

Other than that, damn, nice work.

Aww shoot, that's a little embarrassing. It's fixed now though.

[lucidSeraph]

Well yeah, it got to the point where even the actual characters weren't sure what the fuck, but I'm assuming LS had at least a vague idea of who was crossed with who.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Yes.

EVERYONE got elements of everyone else in that timeline, but specifically -

Dave and Sollux were merged
John and Karkat were merged
Rose and Terezi were merged
Jade and Kanaya were merged

This was based a bit more on the character's actual relations to each other and roles in their respective worlds than anything else. Those were the PRIMARIES, and the strongest merges

Secondaries were:

Jade -> Karkat, Nepeta, Feferi, Tavros
Dave -> Karkat, Aradia, Terezi
John -> Gamzee, Equius, Terezi, Vriska
Rose -> Kanaya, Eridan, Aradia, Nepeta

Note that the secondaries are like... one single trait (like a love of knitting, or horn shape/eye color/whatever) but the primaries determine MOST features.

i probably missed someone...

Expanding on this with the more interesting names and CUSTOM COLORS. You can make the rest up, but the four primaries are:

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Dave/Sollux: Saiivux Capandr (Knight of Doom; Troll) ; Dony Stritor (Mage of Time; Human); Hex color: #c05404
John/Karkat: Johkat Egtas (Heir of Blood; Troll); Karon Vanbert (Knight of Breath; Human); Hex color: #343B97
Rose/Terezi: Tersie Larope (Seer of Mind [!]; Troll); Rosie Pylon (Seer of Light [!]; Human); Hex Color: #5bb6ae
Jade/Kanaya: Janya Harlyam (Sylph of Space [!]; Troll); Kande Marely (Witch of Space [!]; human) Hex coor: 266533

The rest you can just make up or whatever.

[lantadyme]

@Nox: You're breaking my heart there, man. Poor Rose. :(

Here's a weird thing with Doc Scratch, because Seraph told me to.

Lo Fi Rave Guy

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Doc Scratch knows everything in the universe. He is millions of years old and he never sleeps, and that's a long time to ponder the complexities of a game engine as multifaceted as this one. Scratch could rebuild the engine with his own two hands if he wished, with a snap of his fingers. He can do anything. But mostly he sits in his apartments and stares at his chess boards. And he waits.

His master will come eventually, and Scratch finds he doesn't care.

Whether he meets his master is irrelevant. Scratch is the impetus that will open the doorway, and after that he knows he'll be unimportant again. Part of him looks forward to that time, to a time when something will finally be different. Because it has been millions of years and no amount of staring at chess boards relieves his boredom at all.

He knows everything in the universe. There's nothing out there that surprises him

And yet—

He still remembers things that he doesn't understand.

He watches the chess pieces shuffle themselves between squares, sprouting tiny arms and tiny weapons and smashing each other to a fine dust that floats on the board's wind and reforms the slaughtered pieces elsewhere. He knows every move before the pieces make them, and his attention unfocuses and drifts inward instead. To those memories. Those strange, strange memories.

Part of him isn't from the universe, because Scratch understands the plight of trolls. He understands what lusii are and what the blood colors mean to them, and how young trolls grow and pupate into older trolls and leave their planet to throw themselves on the fires for their mad Empress. He understands what a spade means and what a diamond means, and he knows what will happen to the haughty black queen when the game finally kicks into action.

(He mentions quiet hints to her in his down time, in the times she waltzes into his apartments in her robes and breathes her smoke into his bookcases. And perhaps he flirts with her a little, although he knows she will always turn him down. It's part of his odd nature, he supposes. Because what he feels for her has nothing to do with card suits, and everything to do with a foreign sense of what is expected. What young men are to do with women who hold powerful positions. Men who are not trolls and are not carapaces and not the future Felt, and even Scratch himself isn't sure what kind of man that quantifies as.)

There are things inside himself he really does not understand. Like how, on occasion, he finds memories of himself as a lusus, raising a young boy with red hair and pale skin and a grey cap on his head that he never takes off. The boy haunts his days sometimes, and Scratch finds himself pausing as he walks around the mansion, taking a calm step backward and glancing over his shoulder in a double take, because did he just see a flash of red? Did he see the glint of a sword and the impression of boys' size five sneakers in the plush carpet?

Doc Scratch has been alive for millions of years and he knows he's crazy, because he never raised a child. He never did. And he knows every race of sentient being in the universe, and the boy he sees in his peripherals doesn't fall into any of them.

The black queen visits him one night, her dress long and green in a foreshadowing of what she'll one day wear all the time, and Scratch stays silent about that. She smells of clove smoke and she slips up behind him, and he has no eyes but he doesn't give her the courtesy of looking over his shoulder at her either.

"What are you doing?" she asks, and there's confused annoyance in her voice. She usually comes for his company, not to ask him things. He knows everything, but she is the queen and she likes the fiction that she is the wise one, that she's the one who knows what she's doing. Scratch generally plays along. It makes her easier to get along with, to talk to, and because when she asks him things and he answers her with straight truth, she always calls him an insufferable prick.

"What do you mean?" he asks back, and for once the answer to that question doesn't jump to mind before it leaves her lips.

"You're dancing. Nodding to some music," she says as if he's antagonizing her by not simply answering. "Humming it. What is that?"

Doc Scratch falls silent, stares at the black queen's twisted face, and he's a bit glad he has no expressions for her to read. He had been humming? And dancing? He turns back to his chess board, staring into it, and he looks back on the last hour and finds that she's right.

"Something you wouldn't understand," he tells her, his voice level as always. Perhaps she'll detect the wryness to his tone. Because no, she wouldn't understand, because Scratch himself doesn't.

She frowns and flicks cigarette ash onto his carpet, and leaves in a swirl of green fabric and disregard.

He stands there in his empty apartments and for the life of him, he can't recall how the song went.

The next day he sees the boy again, footprints laid out in the plush carpet before him, and Scratch follows them slowly down the hallway. He sets a white dress shoe on each tiny footprint and as he walks, notes seem to fall together in his head. A simple rhythm pumps in time with his footsteps, quiet and calm and with a melody and harmony overlaid. They weave and twine with each other, and Scratch has never heard anything like this before. He fights against the urge to run, to set off as fast as he can, because there's no way the song is right with the rhythm beating this slow and quietly. It has to be loud and fast and ravishing, something you can dance to in the dark with splintered lights spinning like butterflies through the air. Something full of stabs and scratches and crossfades and—

But he doesn't. He stops in the middle of the hallway and looks down, and he knows the footprints he's following aren't really there. That there's no music. That there's no rave and no mix echoing loud and cacophonous through the empty dance floor, begging him to join the party—

It doesn't exist.

But it still plays in his head like a fever dream.

"Do you dance, my lady?" he asks the black queen later, holding out a white-gloved hand. She slips her own dainty hand into his and a smile curls on her lips, not flattered because he already knows her answer, but pleased at least that he still plays these games.

"I do."

Scratch nods and pulls her into a close tango, and even if he had never danced this before, he would know the steps by heart. They dance to no music and the rave beat in Scratch's head is so loud and hard to ignore; off time. He holds the queen close and she smells of licorice and lipstick, and she smiles at him as he dips her and spins her around by the fingers of one hand.

The tango he can do. How to dance to the fiction pumping through his head, he has no idea, because nothing like that music exists in this universe. He knows that.

They dance until Jack Noir wanders into the room, and even though the future mutineer is behind him, Scratch knows the daggers he's glaring into his back. "It seems you have duties to attend to," Scratch whispers into the queen's ear, and she smirks full of mimed lust for Jack's benefit and presses a kiss to the smooth white marble of Scratch's face.

"It seems I do."

Jack will try to stab him in two days. Perhaps he'll let him this time, if only to make things interesting. (Who is he kidding, of course he will. All he bleeds is stuffing and blue tinted water, and the look on Jack's face as that spills all over his clothes is priceless even before it's happened.)

Scratch walks back to his apartments slowly, and he pauses at the balcony of one green staircase. There's a pair of small angular shades perched on the banister and he watches them, knowing that they're not there and seeing them anyway. Knowing that the boy can't be far, because he's never seen the child without the shades before. He reaches out and picks them up, picks up air that feels like plastic, and he drops them over the side of the balcony and watches them evaporate straight into the air.

The bassline in his head booms and Scratch's temper flares for the scantest second, green lightning leaping from his legs and scalding the carpet black. He opens a spacewarp and walks with clipped footsteps from the green carpeting of the hallway and appears on Alternia.

Doc Scratch knows everything in the universe, and of course he knows what he's made of. A magic cue ball and—

And—

Something that's here, something that will be put together with green fabric and hesitance a few sweeps in the future. Something that is tied to that boy, and something that escapes his knowledge every single time he wonders about it.

The sun is hot and bright and his head gleams. The desert sand beneath his feet runs with each footstep, sloughing dust onto the flawless white leather of his shoes, and Scratch walks in a direction he knows will lead him to where his second ingredient will originate. There's a hive up ahead that sparkles white in the sun and the garden around it is small and beautiful, and when he stumbles upon the tiny troll girl with big eyes and jade blood, he isn't surprised.

"Who are you?" she asks with wide frightened eyes, and if he had a mouth he would smile.

"I am your Guardian," he answers. It's the entire truth, even though she won't understand it. She watches him as he continues to walk toward her hive, and after he takes a few strides she races to catch up to him, her feet leaving tiny footprints in the sand next to his own.

It seems he's always surrounded by tiny footprints.

"What does that mean?" she asks, her fingers brushing the white fabric of his pants.

Scratch tips his head to look down at her (he doesn't need to, but it lets her know he's looking) and he reaches out a hand, his fingers spread in the hot air for a second before she slips her small hand into his. "It's simply what I am, Ms. Maryam."

Her face pinches with confusion and Scratch can see the other questions just behind her eyes. He isn't interested in answering questions at the moment. He snaps his fingers and she falls asleep on her feet, her limbs limp and soft like taffy, and he stoops and picks her up in a motion that he's never preformed before, but somehow feels like he's done it countless times. Her head lolls against his shoulder and he walks, thinking of the boy with the hat and the sword.

The boy whose lusus he had been. (Or his second ingredient, anyway.)

He makes the virgin Mother Grub sleep as well. The inside of Kanaya's hive is clean and strewn with fabric in every color of the rainbow, and he finds a comfortable pile of pillows and lays her down in it. He tucks her in with a bolt of fabric and then he stands in the middle of the room, not sure what to do.

It will be sweeps still before she creates his other half. Until she creates—

What?

How can something that originates in a different universe be created in this room by a troll girl (the future Sylph of Space notwithstanding) before she comes into her powers? It makes no sense.

He visits her for sweeps hoping to finally understand this conundrum. Eventually he simply stops coming because he learns nothing every time. And as fond of Kanaya as he is, she reminds him far too much of the boy with the angular shades. The boy he had cared for, who had loved him, and Scratch doesn't know why that memory stings so much.


Years later, but not many, Bec Noir springs on demons wings through the scratch, and then as the two universes kiss each other for that single instant, Doc Scratch finally understands.

And now he can't stop laughing.

[Path]

LANTADYME.

How do I express my love for this? That was just fantastic; your style in this encompasses entirely what I look for in fanfiction.

[SkaianRedeemer]

Excellent, lantadyme!

[Megafire]

@ Lantadyme.

I agree with Path, that was amazing.

[lantadyme]

Ah! Thanks you guys. I somehow ended up shipping Scratch and Snowman in the middle of writing this.

[Caprisaurus]

This morning when I read the update about the scratch and the reset and everything
I gasped, was sad for about a couple of moments
Then realized
The fanfiction thread was about to have a field day with this
And so far it's been delicious~

[wilySubversionist]

Wow, Lantadyme, crazy good. Especially loved the last two lines.

[Graven_Image]

He can't stop laughing.

Is that laughing ha ha, or laughing HAA HAA HEE HEE HOO HOO?

[lantadyme]

Definitely HAA HAA HEE HEE HOO HOO. He's got Cal's personality now that he knows what it is.

[Tenebrais]

Here's something quick to ride the tide of Scratchfic before I get back to work on Barricade.

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Two girls crossed the Land of Quartz and Melody. Heavy was their burden. They were the last two of twelve, and it fell to them to try to fix it all.
Which is to say, it fell to Redglare. She was the one who had to perform the scratch. It just happened to be that she needed some help to get there.
It had all been a waste - that was what both had carefully not said. The twin session and the great skirmish that came with it. Two weeks of turmoil, of discovery, of achievement. And soon it would all have never happened. But there was no other way to go. The Maid of Time was dead. The keeper of the Matriorb dead with her, as was her charge. There was no future to be had here, and no way back to the past. At least this way Alternia could have a legacy.
She turned to her companion. Or at least to where she thought her companion was. “I think I can make the rest of the way by myself. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, Spinneret.”
“I ain’t leaving you now! We got this far together. Where would I go? Besides, I know you’re lying. You’re weak as a newborn grub now. I can even see into your mind!”
“Please don’t.”
Mindfang laughed. “Listen to you! You can’t even stand up to me! You need me, Redglare, and I’m not gonna leave you here.”
Redglare gave a weak smile. The last few days had all been too much. She would have cried if she still thought she could. Too overwhelmed to walk further, she sat on a protruding crystal.
“When... this is done, I hope we’re friends. The other us, I mean.”
A pause. Spinneret was probably making some expression she couldn’t see. “Course we will. We’ll find each other. We did this time round, right?”
“The game brought us together, though. What if it isn’t a part of our lives next time?”
“It’s not gonna let us go that easily. You know that.”
Redglare sighed. There would never be an escape from Sgrub. Even if her twelve friends and foes weren’t taken by it, some poor wigglers down the line would have to deal with it all. But if the next Redglare had her Mindfang, perhaps it’d all be alright.
“Well, I hope it hurts at least a few people.” Redglare laughed a little at her own bitterness. What else could she do?
“You mean Dualscar?” A nod. “Hah, yeah. You were lucky, you just got blinded. If you saw what he did to Carmilla...”
“Don’t, please,” Redglare protested. “Let’s just keep going.”

It was more than the game could account for, how much the two teams would try to kill each other. They’d never got to find out what was so special about the Quest Beds the consorts and sprites had said so much about. They’d figured out you had to die on them, but everyone was too careful not to kill anyone in that position...
Maybe next time it would all be different. Maybe they didn’t have to all be enemies. Hatred was one thing but this was massacre. It was all they could hope for that the other them would get normal lives. Maybe some descendents would shoulder the task. Maybe they’d be able to unite under a common leader.
Maybe.

The Great Comb sprung mightily from the crystal ground to point at the largest cylinder they’d yet encountered. At least, that’s what Mindfang told her, if a little more colourfully. The task was simple, right? Scratch the teeth. Unleash time. Hard reset.

“We’ll bring them all back. Carmilla and Dualscar and Shagghi and Whipcurl,” Mindfang assured. “And we’ll live out our lives just fine. Trust me.”
Redglare smiled. “I hope you’re right.”
She stood at the base of the comb. “Any last words before it all doesn’t matter any more?”
Even she, the Seer of Mind, hadn’t seen her response coming. Mindfang grabbed her hand and kissed her; a moment of flushed passion that was all too short and all too late, and one willingly returned. It was unexpected, and confusing, but Redglare felt she finally understood what she’d meant about how they would definitely find each other in the new reality.
After all, if you knew something well enough, that was reality.

SCRATCH

[Alana]

*Shyly enters a fanfic thread for the first time, offering up some bloodswap AU pesterlogs*

If any1curr after reading that, here is a spreadsheet with a lot of the basics of the AU (and links to art and stuff).

I would post the pesters all up in here but uuuugh I already did all the coding in HTML I don't want to do them again in forumcodes. >.<


EDIT: Since people seemed to like terrifying!TZ I did some terrible voice acting of her and dave :V

[sebastian]

*Shyly enters a fanfic thread for the first time, offering up some bloodswap AU pesterlogs*

If any1curr after reading that, here is a spreadsheet with a lot of the basics of the AU (and links to art and stuff).

I would post the pesters all up in here but uuuugh I already did all the coding in HTML I don't want to do them again in forumcodes. >.<

Whoa!!! your Terezi need a nice sopor pie.

[Mirdan]

Incoming comment dump.

@ lucidSeraph: Shockwave starts off dark and then by Rose Strider I was finding it to be more amusing than anything else (How do you blow up a volcano?!?) and I am not sure why but it was still good.

@ Nox: :'(
i watched an animes once where an AI had to suffer through a time loop like that over a hundred thousand times. and they remembered them all perfectly, though I think I'd rather remember then have it become an eternal nightmare.

The tango he can do. How to dance to the fiction pumping through his head, he has no idea, because nothing like that music exists in this universe.

I wish I could dance to the music in my head too, Scratch. Oh how I wish.

Does he learn how to dance to it once he realizes he's Cal?

@ Tenebrais: if people in a scratched session still get dreambubbles, I imagine your Redglare and Mindfang would be quite displeased with Terezi and Vriska.

[Alana]

*Shyly enters a fanfic thread for the first time, offering up some bloodswap AU pesterlogs*

If any1curr after reading that, here is a spreadsheet with a lot of the basics of the AU (and links to art and stuff).

I would post the pesters all up in here but uuuugh I already did all the coding in HTML I don't want to do them again in forumcodes. >.<

Whoa!!! your Terezi need a nice sopor pie.

hahahahahahahahahahahaha
HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE
>:o]

yeah she is supposed to be pretty much freaking terrifying C: so I guess I succeeded there?

[Graven_Image]

Very.

[Red Pen]

Hey guys, I brought poetry! If the trolls had been allowed to enter our universe and rule over us as gods...
Well. We'd have gotten some interesting mythology.


Twelve Gods

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I am the god of passing time.
Eternal am I, like the rock.
No heart have I, but ticking clock.
You faze me not, and eons pass.
Do not ask me to answer prayer.
I do not listen, do not care,
For nothing in this world can last.
I see and know and feel no shock.
I am the god of passing time.

I am the god of agile breath,
Of all that soars upon the air.
In dreams of flying, I am there.
I ne'r oppose, but only bend.
And reach another, kinder height.
I am the fantasy of flight,
If you love freedom, I'm your friend,
If you be trapped, I mourn your snare.
I am the god of agile breath.

I am the god of coming doom,
Of all inevitable things.
You feast like peasants, die like kings.
I am the bell that tolls your death.
So wail, weep that you will die,
And celebrate your last novae!
The sweetest is your final breath
And torturous, the song you sing.
I am the god of coming doom.

I am the god of passioned heart.
I mull the sense like sweetest wine.
I know whose arms would well entwine,
So ask me, e're you make a match.
I bless your vows in solemn voice
And in your courtship song rejoice,
But break no hearts, lest my claws catch
The unfaithful who lie supine.
I am the god of passioned heart.

I am the god of woven space.
My gown makes up the firmament,
And constellations, my accent
Embroidered in a silver thread.
I'm ever-changing, like a storm,
I cannot keep a constant form,
And rivers flow where worlds have bled
To quench my constant discontent.
I am the god of woven space.

I am the god of cunning mind,
The arbiter at heaven's gate.
My smile or frown decides your fate.
I am a creature without eyes
And yet I see into your head.
So many, from my gaze have fled!
I separate the truth and lies,
So stammer falsehoods, I will wait.
I am the god of cunning mind.

I am the god of fortune's light,
The lucky star, the fate-lit flame
That bursts into a blaze of fame,
Success and serendipity.
But if you risk my help to plead
I'll mold you into what I need.
Your glory all belongs to me
Your flash will e're illume my name.
I am the god of fortune's light.

I am the god of empty void.
I am the zero, in-between,
Always present, never seen.
My duty just to watch and wait
And silent, know the things you do
When you're alone, the hidden you.
I neither judge nor name your fate
But keep your secrets, cruel, obscene.
I am the god of empty void.

I am the god of burning rage
Of pounding head and flecking gore,
Berserker of the art of war
And yet I kill with glee and mirth,
For all of life is but a joke.
My laughing voice is what invokes
The soldier's blood to spray the earth.
Adrenaline is my liquor.
I am the god of burning rage.

I am the god of faintest hope
Who walks the world with arms proffered.
I speak in hushed and pleading words
Give me your prayers, or I will wane.
My blessings ever on you shine
If your whole soul is only mine.
I love, but take my name in vain
And I will vanish, wrath incurred.
I am the god of faintest hope.

I am the god of given life,
Of joyous rushing through your veins,
Of pounding hearts and burning brains.
My finger always on your pulse
My breath is yours, your heartbeat mine,
And it is through my will divine
That inert matter feels impulse
To jump for joy and weep for pain.
I am the god of given life.

I am the god of flowing blood
Of anger, lust and bravery,
Of visceral mortality.
I am the glorious mundane.
I'm born, I die, and I renew.
Why pray to me when I am you?
And everything is my domain.
Those gods are a formality.
I am the god of flowing blood.

(Inspired by something I read quite a while ago that had this same basic concept but with the four kids, and I can't remember who wrote it otherwise I would totally give them credit. I think it was titled "Pantheon"?)