MSPA Fanfiction VII: End of Thread 6 Flash

[SkaianRedeemer]

The Day Before the Day

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Your name is JANE CROCKER. It just so happens that today, the 10th of November, is INCREDIBLY BORING, HOLY CRAP.

TOMORROW is not going to be boring. TOMORROW is going to be down-right fantastic. But TODAY you have nothing to do but lollygag about your room. You suppose it may be a SCHOOL day, but you just aren't sure. Do you... do you go to school?

Oh, you should probably mention that you have ONGOING CANON AMNESIA. You're told it will clear up over the next few days, with details gradually being revealed. You know. To your mind.

Might as well make the best of it. What will you do?

> Jane: Tour Room

No, you're pretty sure you're not supposed to do that today.

> Jane: Indulge in some hysteric fanfiction

What a coincidence! You LOVE hysteric fanfiction! The kind with mysteries and criminals and dashing women with chainsaws and limited impulse control! You think you have some right here, in fact.

Dame took a long drag from her hand-rolled cigarette, because it was the 30s and TOBACCO EMPIRES did not yet exist or something. She's not really clear on the details, probably because the details happen in the FUTURE. She looks across to the hardboiled SLUETH OF PROBLEMS and tells him that she has another case. Another case that might be... just up his alley.

She is sadly interrupted when the stick of dynamite in her mouth threatens to go off and kill them all! She starts juggling about the ROOM. What does she do?

Look at that you just wrote. That is brilliant. You could give up this BAKING thing, if it weren't one of your PASSIONS.

Oh, cool, you remembered something.

> Jane: Indulge in some hysterically nervous fanfiction

Nnnnnno that's private. A girl has to be allowed her imagination.

> Jane: Indulge in some hysterically sluething fanfiction

Well... that's less private. It is CANON, after all.

Actually, in hindsight, you can't remember what you SHIP. In fact, how does shipping even work? You have this vague itch that there might be more than one... type? Why do you think that? ...Nah.

This is turning out to be somewhat disappointing. This is turning out to be somewhat disappointing.

> Jane: Ask your friends for advice!

Yes! Your friends! You have lots of those! Like that guy, who does the stuff! Or that girl, with her things! Or that handsome guy, what's-his-name!

Wait, are you sure you have any friends?

You're not entirely sure you even have a pesterquirk. Or a chumhandle. In fact, is that what those are even called?

...Dammit.

> Jane: Have Bunnysleuth investigate the case of the missing chumhandle!

...

==>

Listen friend.

==>

Bunnysleuth only investigates SERIOUS crimes.

==>

And MEMORY THEFT Is the most serious of crimes!

You set up your toys and play with them for like an hour. OH GOD THIS IS SO MUCH FUN.

You sit in the ruin of your bedroom, surrounded by stuffed toys and COMPANY PARAPHENALIA. You are so totally FIFTEEN.

> Jane: Perch on your desk and screech like a mongoose.

...Nah, you're good for the rest of the day. There's a BUNNY on your head. That is the universal sign of preoccupation.

Thanks for the help, though!

It's too bad you'll never hear mysterious voices in your head again, though.

Nope.

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...

......

.........first.



Oh, like any of you could blame me.

Okay, so, uh... this was the weirdest fic I've ever written. Suddenly it feels weird to write with characters that don't exist yet. Why is that? Is it because they don't exist yet? That's silly. You're silly.

Oh gog, why is this a pagetopper.

[digitalCalibrator]

The angels thing made me wonder for a bit. Isn't most of human ideology that when we go to (Afterlife of choice but mostly the christian one) we get wings and crap? Where are our god tier wings? They wouldn't really do much, but hey! Wings! And probably feathery ones.

Actually, I'm not even sure where human ideology got the idea of angels = humans && feathery wings. I recall from watching an LP of the game The Void that the bosses of the game are based on the biblical descriptions of angels...and they're, well, you can see why the first thing an angel would say to a human is "Be not afraid." Very inhuman.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@digitalCalibrator: Renaissance art, mostly, but winged humans appear in a wide variety of cultures. Unlike, say, the modern look of the Christian Devil, this wasn't an intentional co-op of imagery. Angels used to be portrayed as plain humans, probably because of the visual style of the day, so giving them wings was a quick and easy artistic distinction. Laziness! The solution to all life's problems. This is just off the top of my head, though, so I might be remembering it wrong. Of course, in the Homestuck world...


The Day Before the Day
Part 2 (Dammit, Andrew)

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Your name is JAKE "The Flame" ENGLISH and you are watching the Star Wars movies for the second time today, on eight separate screens (two for Clone Wars). You are also watching Robert Downey Jr. Sherlock Holmes, the Terminator Films, and the entirety of Marvel's relaunched universe, Picture-in-Picture. You could not even contemplate being BORED right now.

> Jake: Stand on your head and--

No! This was a hard-won PRIVILEGE and you are not about to just surrender it. It's films 'till sunset and target practice in the moonlight!

Well, maybe not "hard-won." It may have been handed to you on a bit of a silver platter with some offhand warning about "stress" and "demons" and "everyone you know being locked out of time in combat with a horrendous something something" you honestly having trouble remembering the details, maybe because of the EIGHT TELEVISION SETS THIS IS AMAZING.

> Jake: Share your bounty of film with your good friends.

Well you would, but you're not entirely sure how to go about it. Video chat? Besides, they're probably all more than occupied. Texas is nice and warm right now, maybe...

Uh...

Dash it all, now this isn't a fair display of friendship, is it?

Well, you remember Jane's name. Maybe you should talk to her. You're sure she's perfectly well-occupied but you do tend to gravitate to her from time to time. Having a chance to see her face-to-face with her would be... kinda nice...

Look, can't a gent blush over his internal narration in peace?

> Dance the flaminco and puke on--

Friend, you're going to have to leave.

Besides, you're about to put in the Smurfs. And if MYSTERIOUS VOICES in your head interrupt you during the Smurfs, things are going to come down to some SHITGNARLY FISTICUFFS.

==>

Best day ever.

[Aqizzar]

You sit in the ruin of your bedroom, surrounded by stuffed toys and COMPANY PARAPHENALIA. You are so totally FIFTEEN.

Besides, you're about to put in the Smurfs. And if MYSTERIOUS VOICES in your head interrupt you during the Smurfs, things are going to come down to some SHITGNARLY FISTICUFFS.

This is me, laughing my ass off. You are good.

[Gigabacon]

Not to take away from Aqizzar's accomplishment, but I had a fic that went up just before his. Did anyone see that one?

Just popping out of lurk mode to say that yes, I noticed Graven. And it was great. I now want a full Bastionstuck fic. I would, if I could only write half as well as most of the people in these threads.

/relurk

[Dermonster]

My heads thought process the past few minutes
*Feel an idea mode coming on.*
*Homestuck*
*Start spinning in my chair as head goes haywire with images*
*Start thinking of plot bunnies at the speed of sound*
*Should cross it over with something*
*But what hasn't been done already?*
*Oh! I know! crossover with Homestuck!*
*Yeah best idea eve- wait.*

Goddammit brain, get your shit together. Can't cross HS with HS...

[The Phoenixian]

*Delurk*
Derm, If you're going to cross the most complex story ever told with anything, why not the most complex roleplay ever told?

You are uniquely qualified after all...
*Relurk in a puff of mad ideas*

[Graven_Image]

Hoo boy, this is a long one.

Demon Jester: A Pale Romance
Act 2, Scene 2

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SCENE II. Wilderness. The Nyxian forests.

Enter JULISE and SHAKOW. SUBJUGGLATORS can be heard yelling off-stage.

SHAKOW

Hark, little girl! Where run ye,
As if the legions of Heaven were loosed after thee?

JULISE

I cannot stay and speak, good sir;
The Highbloods are after me, and I must make haste.

SHAKOW

Nonsense. Sit a spell and talk to me,
I have been traveling many days, and I wish for some company.

JULISE

I must decline, sir. I cannot stop for but a brief minute.
The legions of heaven are indeed upon me,
And if you wish to live as well, you will flee as I do!

Enter the SUBJUGGLATORS. One has a hand covered in red blood.

First Subjugglator

Oy! Where be the wench? She cost us much good paint, burning the bodies we took!

JULISE

Those were my friends!

Second Subjugglator

Ay, there she is.
I'd recognize ye anywhere, dirtblood.
Now come along with us, and we'll finish inking our masterwork.

JULISE

Never!

SHAKOW

Hoy there, brothers.
What business do you have with this girl?

First Subjugglator

Oh, look. The outcast.
Why venturest thou from the prison we put you in, brother?
Have you finally realized you lack that sense of humour we boast?
Or did you just become restless, like the rest of us never do?
Either way, it only proves what we have said of you.

SHAKOW

Neither, brother.
I came on counsel from a blind Prophet,
Who said a great treasure be hidden in the easterly wastes of Nyx,
And that it were at risk of ruin by your hands.
So tell me, do you plan on defiling any tombs this fair evening?

Third Subjugglator

Nay, fair Shakow.
All we aim on breaking today is yonder dirtblooded wretch.
So give her over, and we'll leave you be.

JULISE

No! Please!

JULISE runs to SHAKOW, trying to shelter herself from the Subjugglators.

JULISE

Please, sir! I beg you! Don't leave me to these barbarians!

SHAKOW

Watch yourself, peasant.
You presume the favor of Shakow, the Demon Jester.
And presuming anything of me is a dreadful mistake.

First Subjugglator

Enough talk! Give her to us!
My other hand wants for color!

JULISE

I beg of you, good sir!
Your brothers seek to spill the blood of an innocent!
Would you suffer them to rage across the wastes of Nyx,
As they have done for sweeps on end?
Have you no justice in you? No pity?

SHAKOW

It's apparent you have never heard of me,
Nor my reputation as the Demon Jester.
I care nothing for anyone save myself.
And if you wish to appeal to my mercy, you are sorely mistaken.
Brothers, take her.
I am finished talking.

The Subjugglators begin to exit with JULISE in tow. Shakow begins exiting opposite them.

JULISE

No! No! Please!
Take pity! I beg of you!
Don't leave me!
Shakow!

SHAKOW halts.

SHAKOW

I changed my mind.

SHAKOW flings a card into the Third Subjugglator, downing him.

SHAKOW

Leave her alone, brothers.
Shakow claims this one.

First Subjugglator

Be off, outcast!
We laid claim to her first!

SHAKOW

Did you not hear me the first time?
I say unto you, this woman is under the protection of the Demon Jester!
Harm a fiber of her body, and vorpal sword and razor card shall be your doom!
Now unhand her!

The Subjugglators drop JULISE. Exeunt the second with the third's body.

First Subjugglator

You have made enemies afresh today, Shakow!
The Grand Highblood shall hear of your treachery!
I swear it!

Exit First Subjugglator.

JULISE

Thank you, sir.

SHAKOW

My pleasure, m'lady.
Come with me. I know of a safe haven.

JULISE

Permit me one question,
Before I follow.
Why did you allow them to pull me so far,
Only to save me at the last moment?

SHAKOW

It was funnier that way.

Exit SHAKOW, laughing. Exit JULISE.

A/N

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Phew, back on that roll again.

Good? Better? Awesome? Give it to me straight.

[Dermonster]

I.... I.... I. I. I I IIIIIIIIIIII

RTDMetastuck

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elementalSummoner began pestering skyPirate
ES: Edgar.
ES: Edgar.
ES: Edgar!
SP: What be it Derm ye daft bugger! I be flyin' round mountains here!
ES: Get in the damn chat room Edgar.
SP: The bloody hell is a chat room? Is this to do with yer damned techno whatsit your head voice made?
ES: They are called COMPUTERS you drunk bastard!
es: They are very high end devices that Derek built and he is still mad at you for tossing your first one out of the starboard bow.
SP: Don't talk to me about ships lad! after what ye did to THE BOREALIS...
ES: Just... just get in the damned chatroom. I gave you your arms back, and the leg in a technical sense. Do me a damned favor.
SP: My wee peg-leg parasite? Oh he's a darlin'. Stopped sending images of untold insanity from being deprived of all sens'ry info just a short while ago. Been smooth sailin' ever since.
ES: Yes. I know. I made the damned thing by proxy and by guh'fnig I will heal you so hard if you don't get in the damned chatroom.
SP: Oh gods no. I saw what ye did to tha' cat. And yer arms. And basically anything you ever do.
ES: Mutie is just fine.
SP: That name seems a bit odd suddenly. But I cannae remember why.
ES: Get. In. The. Chatroom.
SP: Fine, fine. Dont get ye robes in a tweest ya red boned freak.
skyPirate ceased pestering elementalSummoner.
ES: I want my right arm back you asshole. The tentacle is awkward and the meter long mass of muscle tissue attached to my stump is just not that good.
elementalSummoner disconnected.

elementalSummoner opened the chatroom 'We're all going to die and it's not my fault this time except yes it is.'
ES: Are we all here?
skyPirate responded to Chatroom
SP: Aye.
ninjaSniper responded to chatroom
NS: Here.
undeadActuary responded to chatroom
UA: Accounted for.
royalSoap responded to chatroom
RS: WHERE ARE MY CLAMS I GOT SOAP TO MAKE THIS BEARD DOESNT LATHER ITSELF
ES: No. Shut up, sit down, and listen.
ES You all remember that frog temple we raided a few days back?
UA:I seem to remember you turning a small child into a seething mass of rat flesh, yes.
ES: That was awesome, yeah. anyway, surprise surprise, we just fucked the world over accidentally. Again.
ES: I don't even get to hear the screams of the deceased this time.[/color]
SP: Dammit Derm!
NS: Dammit Derm!
UA: Dammit Derm!
RS: WHERE IS MY SOAP
ES: SHUT UP URIST! Damned Dwarves!
RS: RACIST
ES: No. You are the only dwarf we have ever seen anywhere. There is no racism because there is no race.
RS: THAT IS A COMPLETELY UNFAIR-
ES: YOU EAT WITH YOUR BEARD YOU ROYAL PAIN IN THE-
NS: Stop arguing, both of you are idiots! Derm, What the hell is going on? is it the Raws or whatever again? Did you create another goddamn abomination?
ES: No. Worse. Basically speaking, due to shenanigans and a memory like a fucking elephant-
ES: Shut up you memorized it in one go- No I am not jealous why would you - SHUT IT DEREK I AM TALKING
ES: We have ended the world. It will end in some amount of time.
ES: Derek Assures me the time is soon, and had me build these things out of whatever crap I found lying around for the sole purpose of escaping.
NS: Who in any sane mind whould want to rescue you!?
ES: Someone who would get hit with the broadside of a massive temporal feedback loop if I were to be deceased. Then explode violently.
ES: Point is, we need to spread out and set up a bunch of shit so we don't get flattened like pancakes.
AA: Why are we friends with you?
ES: The same reason I don't fry you with lightning. We both have no idea and it's a little confounding why I haven't killed you and you haven't ran like hell.
ES: We done now? Good. So, the escape rout.
ES: Basically, in layman terms, it a game.
AA: Like chess?
ES: Yeah I suppose- Derek why the hell are you laughing so hard- never mind.
ES: So the name of the game is Sburb...

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Derm, If you're going to cross the most complex story ever told with anything, why not the most complex roleplay ever told?

What the hell did I just do. I don't know. ITS MIDNIGHT AND I LIVE IN A HAZE OF NO-SLEEP BAD WRITING

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Aqizzar: Thanks! Glad someone's enjoying the lines and not just the premise.

@Dermonster: I dunno. If anything could cross over with itself, it's Homestuck.

@Graven: *snrk*

[Megafire]

I.... I.... I. I. I I IIIIIIIIIIII

RTDMetastuck

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elementalSummoner began pestering skyPirate
ES: Edgar.
ES: Edgar.
ES: Edgar!
SP: What be it Derm ye daft bugger! I be flyin' round mountains here!
ES: Get in the damn chat room Edgar.
SP: The bloody hell is a chat room? Is this to do with yer damned techno whatsit your head voice made?
ES: They are called COMPUTERS you drunk bastard!
es: They are very high end devices that Derek built and he is still mad at you for tossing your first one out of the starboard bow.
SP: Don't talk to me about ships lad! after what ye did to THE BOREALIS...
ES: Just... just get in the damned chatroom. I gave you your arms back, and the leg in a technical sense. Do me a damned favor.
SP: My wee peg-leg parasite? Oh he's a darlin'. Stopped sending images of untold insanity from being deprived of all sens'ry info just a short while ago. Been smooth sailin' ever since.
ES: Yes. I know. I made the damned thing by proxy and by guh'fnig I will heal you so hard if you don't get in the damned chatroom.
SP: Oh gods no. I saw what ye did to tha' cat. And yer arms. And basically anything you ever do.
ES: Mutie is just fine.
SP: That name seems a bit odd suddenly. But I cannae remember why.
ES: Get. In. The. Chatroom.
SP: Fine, fine. Dont get ye robes in a tweest ya red boned freak.
skyPirate ceased pestering elementalSummoner.
ES: I want my right arm back you asshole. The tentacle is awkward and the meter long mass of muscle tissue attached to my stump is just not that good.
elementalSummoner disconnected.

elementalSummoner opened the chatroom 'We're all going to die and it's not my fault this time except yes it is.'
ES: Are we all here?
skyPirate responded to Chatroom
SP: Aye.
ninjaSniper responded to chatroom
NS: Here.
actualActuary responded to chatroom
AA: Accounted for.
royalSoap responded to chatroom
RS: WHERE ARE MY CLAMS I GOT SOAP TO MAKE THIS BEARD DOESNT LATHER ITSELF
ES: No. Shut up, sit down, and listen.
ES You all remember that frog temple we raided a few days back?
AA:I seem to remember you turning a small child into a seething mass of rat flesh, yes.
ES: That was awesome, yeah. anyway, surprise surprise, we just fucked the world over accidentally. Again.
ES: I don't even get to hear the screams of the deceased this time.
RS: WHERE IS MY SOAP
ES: SHUT UP URIST! Damned Dwarves!
RS: RACIST
ES: No. You are the only dwarf we have ever seen anywhere. There is no racism because there is no race.
RS: THAT IS A COMPLETELY UNFAIR-
ES: YOU EAT WITH YOUR BEARD YOU ROYAL PAIN IN THE-
NS: Stop arguing, both of you are idiots! Derm, What the hell is going on? is it the Raws or whatever again? Did you create another goddamn abomination?
ES: No. Worse. Basically speaking, due to shenanigans and a memory like a fucking elephant-
ES: Shut up you memorized it in one go- No I am not jealous why would you - SHUT IT DEREK I AM TALKING
ES: We have ended the world. It will end in some amount of time.
ES: Derek Assures me the time is soon, and had me build these things out of whatever crap I found lying around for the sole purpose of escaping.
NS: Who in any sane mind whould want to rescue you!?
ES: Someone who would get hit with the broadside of a massive temporal feedback loop if I were to be deceased.
ES: Point is, we need to spread out and set up a bunch of shit so we don't get flattened like pancakes.
AA: Why are we friends with you?
ES: The same reason I don't fry you with lightning. We both have no idea and it's a little confounding why I haven't killed you and you haven't ran like hell.
ES: We done now? Good. So, the escape rout.
ES: Basically, in layman terms, it a game.
AA: Like chess?
ES: Yeah I suppose- Derek why the hell are you laughing so hard- nevermind.
ES: So the name of the game is Sburb...

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Derm, If you're going to cross the most complex story ever told with anything, why not the most complex roleplay ever told?

What the hell did I just do. I don't know. ITS MIDNIGHT AND I LIVE IN A HAZE OF NO-SLEEP BAD WRITING

I did a dramatic reading of the entire thing, with different character voices and all.

What is wrong with me?

[Dermonster]

I would like to hear that.

[Megafire]

I'll record it as soon as I have something decent to record it with.

[Katrika]

Ever After

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Once upon a time, in a dark, quiet kingdom where the sun could not reach and the tainted moon was bound by chains, it came to pass that a prince and a princess were born. Though they seemed perfectly healthy, and in fact did not appear to need food or drink, the princess was locked in unwakeable slumber and the prince did not notice those around him, not even his own mother. Grieved by this, and greatly disturbed, the queen ordered them locked in two mighty towers, until they day when they could rejoin society or died.

Years passed, and the populace forgot about the prince and princess, with even the queen writing them off as doomed. Even if the curse was broken, after all, they’d know nothing of the world, and would be mere babes clad in much older bodies. The queen had no way of knowing that as her children slept, they grew and learned in a strange dream-world, the prince a squire to a great knight and the princess learning the arts of slyness and magic from a famed sorceress.

As the princess and prince prospered and learned, the dark kingdom floundered. The queen had foolishly started a war with the bright kingdom from across the waters, unaware or uncaring that she was fated to lose. Moreover, her treacherous advisor was caught in the grip of a strange curse, and as the prince and princess reached their 13th year of life, his true colors were revealed. He struck at the queen and robbed her of life, putting on her magic ring of power once the deed was done. The instant the ring touched his finger, his sickness and insanity exploded outward, killing all who dwelled in her palace. Dark, demonic wings ripped free of his back, and his features twisted and warped until none could recognize him. The people despaired, for they thought that the end times had come, and their situation could not get any worse.

They thought wrong.

The once-advisor, now known as Jack-of-the-Darkness, was not yet done with his rampage. He flew to the bright kingdom and, striking the ground, caused the earth below to shake and the golden buildings to crumble and fall. The people of the dark kingdom rejoiced, for they thought the war was over, and Jack had come to save them. Jack scoffed at this notion, and made his way to the great battlefield, slaying soldiers from both kingdoms alike to sate his ever growing bloodlust. In desperation and despair, the young princess of the bright kingdom, herself a skilled enchantress, bound Jack-of-the-Darkness to her loyal familiar in an attempt to reign him in. The binding was a success, but did not accomplish what she’d hoped, for as Jack’s face rippled and took on the likeness of a starving jackel, he gained access to the tremendous power stored in the faithful familiar. All hope seemed lost.

It was to this crumbling world that the prince and princess awoke, but they did not despair and they did not fear. The prince by now was a great Knight, and likewise the princess had the skills and knowledge of a famed Seer. They met together in the tower of the Knight, and together they plotted. The Seer’s soothsaying had revealed that the only way to defeat Jack-of-the-Darkness was to destroy his source of power, and her communications with dark spirits had given her a map to it. The only problem was she could not reach it on her own, nor could anyone reach the Spark of Power without dying. The only way to get to the Spark of Power was to ride the bound moon, carrying the Seed of Destruction to the Spark of Power. The Knight and Seer agreed to set aside that issue for the moment, and focus on obtaining the Seed of Destruction.

It was revealed that the Witch from the bright kingdom had a brother, an Heir who held mastery over all the winds and breezes of the world. The Seer, the Knight, the Witch, and the Heir vowed to set aside their differences and work together to defeat Jack-of-the-Darkness and save the entire world. The Heir went to the ravanged battlefield to search for the Seed of Destruction, and discovered to his shock and horror that it was nested in the center of the world. Carefully he worked, and delicately, to use the winds to gouge and dig a path to the heart of the world without breaking the world to pieces. It was difficult, tiring work, and many times he toyed with the idea of stopping and giving up, only to keep going once he saw the rivers of blood let loose by Jack-of-the-Darkness. Finally, after many days and nights, he carried the Seed of Destruction cushioned in the winds to the bound moon.

Unable to put it off any further, the Knight and the Seer argued deep into the night over who would ride the bound moon to the Spark of Power and sacrifice their life, each wanting to take the burden away from their beloved sibling. Finally, in a fit of frusteration, the Seer agreed to let the Knight take the journey, if only he cut the moon’s chain himself. The Knight agreed, but the instant he cleaved the chain, the Seer cast a spell on him, and the Knight fell asleep as the Seer rode off to her doom.

As the Knight awoke, he saw that the moon was almost out of sight, and raged. Tapping into a power bourne of premature grief and loss, he flew after her, managing to reach the unbound moon right before it crossed the point of no return. The Seer was saddened to see him, but could do nothing to return him to the dark kingdom, and together they waited for their deaths.

After a time, the unbound moon was bathed in the green light of the Spark of Power, and the Knight and the Seer got to work. As they pushed the Seed of Destruction ahead of them, the Knight saw a place prepared for them, and knew in that instant the dark spirits had decieved the Seer. He gripped the Seer’s hand tightly as the Seed of Destruction nestled in place, unable to do anything else. The Seer and the Knight could only watch as the Seed cracked open, and darkness flowed out to choke out the light, taking all they had known with it.

When their vision returned, the Knight and the Seer saw that they had failed, for while the Seed was the Seed of Destruction, it was also the Seed of Power, and a new Spark of Power roiled and danced beneath their feet. The Seer and the Knight looked at each other in horror and bewilderment, for in the forge of creation they had been made anew like gods, immortal and powerful. Finally, the Knight spoke, suggesting that while in their haste they had destroyed two worlds, perhaps they could use their new power to save others, and so to this day the Knight and Seer wander the worlds in search of those in need, hoping one day to obtain forgiveness and death.

They lived ever after.

[PingZing]

I'm back! Guess what I've got. Go on. You'll never figure it out.

Oh. I guess it was sort of obvious, huh?

Hot Blooded: Chapter 17

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Roughly an hour later, Tarfus lounged in a gloomy corner underneath the eaves of compound’s façade, waiting. He’d positioned himself with his back to a wall and so that any observer from the stairs or the entrance to the compound would be blinded by the setting sun. Old habits died hard, and paranoia was a virtue when one’s only potential friends were in the employ of one’s worst enemy.

Tarfus grimaced. His stump was hurting, and the lingering effects of a full belly and the sopor slime had worn off. All his aches and pains were back with a vengeance. His entire left side felt as though it were one massive bruise. Breathing hurt, and walking wasn’t particularly pleasant either, but he would manage. He’d had worse.

It wasn’t just his ever-expanding collection of agonies that had him in a foul mood, though. It was the thought of the Empress ordering him around like her little toy soldier. The worst part was, he had no choice but to obey. Instead of brooding on his current helplessness, he tried to order his thoughts.

When he had arrived at the compound, bruised burned and bloodied, it had been early evening. Upon awaking after his meeting with the Empress, it had been just past evening, probably an hour or two before midnight. Then…he frowned. His recollection of events was blurred after that. He remembered the fight with the two guardemolishers with eerie clarity, however. The sensation of that sickle slicing his hand off was one he would never forget. He shook his head and shivered. On the bright side, he no longer had to worry about the hole the Empress had carved through his wrist. That was something, he supposed.

At some point after that, he had awoken to Auva tending to his wrist, and it had still been night, or at least early morning. When he had awoken again an hour ago, it had been late morning, verging on midday. His frown redoubled. Had he really only been in that hellish compound for just under a day? It had felt like weeks.

So…in under a day, he’d attempted to assault the Empress twice, lost a hand, alienated one of his oldest, and apparently traitorous friends and, confusingly, discovered a complete stranger carrying his revolutionary insignia.

He blinked. Where had that last thought come from? He hadn’t paid Corvus and his insignia much thought since knocking the fool out. But it was troubling, wasn’t it? The way a complete stranger had access to what had been a supposedly well-kept secret up until a quarter-perigree ago or so…. It implied that security in his little organization had not been what he thought it was. Which meant…

…what?

Did it really matter now that the entire conspiracy was, save for himself and Auva, dead and gone?

He sighed. Maybe not. And maybe he was thinking about all this to prevent himself from dreading just what terrible fate the Empress had in mind for him.

And then a hand clapped him on the left shoulder and his elbow whipped out in a purely reflexive action. It collided with the owner of the offending hand with a fleshy whumpf and a whoosh of air rushing from their oxygen-processing sacs. Tarfus turned to find a familiar blueblood doubled over, clutching his middle.

“Oh,” he said, comprehension dawning. “It’s you.”

It was Corvus. He stood, wheezing for a moment before slowly straightening. “What do you have against me, freak?”

Tarfus shrugged. “You’re a cowardly shitbag as well as a complete fucking toolbox. What’s not to dislike?” He paused for a moment before adding as an afterthought, “Oh, and you snuck up behind me. Bad move on a good night.” Tarfus leaned in close. “Does it look like I’m having a good night?”

“It’s not even night, you psychopath,” Corvus growled.

Tarfus blinked lazily before looking out at long shadows and orange illumination of the sun as if seeing them for the first time “Oh. Another reason to be pissed off. Fan-goddamn-tastic.” He turned back to Corvus. “Is there something you want?”

Corvus scowled. “Yes. Follow me. I’m to be your escort—we’re departing soon.” With that, he turned and stomped down the stairs to the courtyard in front of the compound.

A courtyard, Tarfus noted, that was now filled with idling automated combustion platforms. Cars, he corrected himself. If he was going to be among highblood company for the foreseeable future, best to attempt to blend in by using their vernacular.

He snorted. Blend in. With a missing hand, and no clear purpose as to his presence. That’d work. And he doubted he’d able to hide his eye color for long. In the past, he’d always just been able to shrug and pretend it was a light maroon. People rarely had time or incentive to question that answer. If they did, he either punched them out or made allies out of them. It had worked surprisingly well.

Tarfus followed Corvus to the cars and waited as Corvus opened a hatch in the side and conferred with somebody within. After a moment, Corvus turned to Tarfus, and gestured him inside. Tarfus obliged and blinked as Corvus shut the hatch behind him and his eyes adjusted to the comfortable darkness inside. He surveyed the interior; a simple box with two benches at either side and two hatches likewise perpendicular. Behind and above the bench to Tarfus’ left was a small, sliding door at eye level, presumably for contact with the driver. And sitting on that bench…

Tarfus felt his vascular pump pause in shock, along with the rest of his body. Then, it resumed its duty in exasperation. Along with the rest of his body.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said, before he was able to stop himself.

Sitting on the bench to his left was the Empress, trident held lightly on one hand, with Auva seated to her side, hands folded demurely in her lap.

The Empress gestured at the bench opposite. “Take a seat, threshecutioner. We’re to depart soon, and I’d rather not have you flailing all over the cab when your balance inevitably deserts you.”

Tarfus scowled, but took a seat. She had a point, after all. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Empress cut him off with a raised hand. “I have little time. I imagine you have many questions. Once the journey starts, I will be unable to answer them. Think carefully.”

Tarfus snapped his mouth shut, deepened his scowl, and thought furiously. His mind raced frantically through a litany of possible things to ask…

…for a split second. Because when he got right down to it, there was only one question he could bear to ask.

“What the fuck?!” He burst out. “You’ve been jerking me around like I’m a retarded, drooling woofbeast, and now you expect me to sit down and have a polite discussion like I’m one of your nooksucking, bulge-licking, nub-glubbing sycophants? Fuck that! Give me some damn answers!”

The Empress stared at him placidly for a moment before glancing at Auva. “I am impressed infilterrogator. He reacted as you predicted, almost to the word.”

One of Tarfus’ eyes twitched. Then the other. Then he saw red. He clenched his fist, grit his teeth and focused on his breathing. It took every scrap of his frayed willpower not to launch himself out of his seat and throttle that imperial bitch where she sat. After several long moments of blinding rage, he took a deep breath and let it out. It hurt. “So,” he spat, “Are you going to answer my question?”

The Empress turned back to Tarfus and furrowed her brow slightly for a moment. “You presume too much with your tone. I will have your head on the ramparts if you speak to me so again.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “With that said, I will answer your question as time and practicality allow.” She adjusted her trident so it was lying across her lap, the tines angled subtly toward Tarfus. “Your failed revolution came at a singularly inopportune moment, ineffective and aborted though it was. My decision to allow its continued survival was wholly intentional. However, the way its existence came to light—rather violently,” she said, pausing and staring at Tarfus before continuing, “—was not. As a result, the subjuggalators are now aware of what they believe was a nearly-successful revolutionary cell. Something they perceive as a weakness, which they intend to exploit. You, threshecutioner, are part of my plan to teach them a lesson in humility,” the Empress finished, continuing to hold Tarfus’ gaze.

Tarfus stared, mouth open. “…you’re fucking serious, aren’t you.” He stared for a moment longer before continuing, “You’re grubshit insane if you think I’m going to have any part of some heavy-handed power play of yours. What possible motivation could I have for going along with your scheme?”

The Empress gestured carelessly with one hand toward Auva and said, “Her life, of course.”

Tarfus’ eyes narrowed and he surged out of his seat and raised his hand to pound the Empress into paste. “You bitch! You murderous, barnacle-breathing squid-sh—”

He was abruptly cut off as the Empress’ trident darted out in a blur of flashing gold and pinned his neck to the back of the car, catching it between the tines. Tarfus’ chin was forced up, and he stared down at the Empress along the length of the golden weapon.

She matched his gaze and said calmly, “I suggest you consider your next actions very carefully.”

The Empress stared at him levelly, for several long moments. Tarfus noted the way her knees bent, the way her gills flared, the utter calm in her flat, violet-pink eyes as she prepared to kill him if he made a single false move. The way Auva stared on apparently dispassionately, save for the tiny tells; one hand clutching the other slightly too tightly. The way one fang dimpled her lower lip just slightly more than it should. If not for those, Tarfus would have thought her the epitome of statuesque calm.

For her sake, Tarfus didn’t move.

If it had just been him and the Empress…well. He would’ve taken his chances.

He smiled ruefully. “If this isn’t one hell of a microcosm for the way our Mother Grubforsaken society works, then I don’t know what is,” he said, letting his shoulders and arms relax.

The Empress waited a moment before withdrawing her trident. Tarfus collapsed and gasped, before sinking back into his seat. The Empress continued staring at Tarfus for a moment before nodding and turning around. “That concludes my time for you, threshecutioner. Pray you have not squandered it.”

With that, she reached toward the front of the car, and grasped the back of the bench to Auva’s side and pulled. It swung open on a hinge, revealing an opening, with just a half-wall with the tiny sliding door above it. The Empress swung that out as well, leaving a small doorway leading to the driver’s cab. She walked through and swung the doors shut behind her. They closed, and were followed by a click.

Must lock from the other side, Tarfus thought. Smart. Would make her look weak in front of dumber, more confident enemies. But still, smart.

Tarfus sat back in the seat, and started slightly as the car coughed once, then rumbled to life. He twitched the curtain aside from the window and squinted in the light, watching as the courtyard of the compound began to roll away. He watched for a moment longer, before moving the curtain back and sitting heavily on the bench.

Fucking ridiculous. To think that only four sweeps ago, steam-powered ships were a recent development. Now we’ve got these preposterous self-propelled psychic-powered contraptions. And before my contact network got smashed to bits, we’d started hearing rumblings of the Empress taking her expansionism to the stars…as if she needs more power. Isn’t ruling over an entire planet more than enough? Tarfus frowned, and his eyes widened fractionally as a thought occurred to him. What if her power’s not as secure as we think? Is that what all this nonsense with the subjuggalators is about?

“Madris,” he said, voice tinged with an edge of suspicion, “Are we on the verge of a goddamned civil war?”

Auva winced, and covered it poorly with a cough. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you dare play this game too! Do you mean to tell me that that entire rambling self-indulgent, ridiculous diatribe just now, and everything before it, was supposed to inform poor clueless me that the subjuggalators are prepared to metaphorically tear out the throat of the fucking Empress?!”

Auva frowned, and said nothing.

Tarfus stared, mouth agape. “How in the name of my useless nubby horns did I miss this? This is huge! Bigger than…than…”

“Your ego?” Auva cut in, smiling slightly. Then her eyes widened and she winced, blushing.

Tarfus glared. “Fuck you,” He said, punctuating each word with a wild gesticulation, “My ego is completely warranted. I am an amazing leader and deserve respect…” He trailed off as his amputated hand came into his field of view, then turned away, scowling.

The only sounds in the car were the nearly-inaudible whine from the telekinetically powered propulsion drive, the crunch of dirt and gravel beneath the tires, and the creaking of the benches under the two of them. Tarfus sighed and focused on the insistent throbbing in his stump. Occupying his mind with controlling the pain would give him an excuse to avoid conversation for the foreseeable future.

It worked for a time. Tarfus wasn’t sure how much time passed. It could have been minutes, it might have been hours. As he sat, focusing on the pain in his body, learning it, mastering it and overcoming it, his perception of time was nonexistent. He’d once had someone comment that what he was doing now was akin to meditation. He’d promptly held his sickle to their throat and threatened them with decapitation if they dared relate him to something as useless and prissy as meditation.

Something must have showed in his face, because through the haze of pain, he heard Auva ask, “Is something wrong?”

Tarfus blinked and willed the grimace off his face. “Not a goddamn thing. I’m living on borrowed time. The Empress has me in her clutches, and is using me in some wild scheme to preserve a tenuous peace between highblood factions.” On second thought, he replaced the grimace on his face. “I’m like a goddamn grub in a playpen here, totally peachy.”

Auva frowned. “A grub in…what?” She shook her head, clearing the errant thought away. “You may disagree with her methods, but what the Empress is doing is important. It is necessary that the Condesce keep the peace between the subjuggalators and the rest of the populace. The alternative would be widespread bloodshed. The lowblooded would feel the effect the most. What she is doing is for the good of all.”

“Fed you that line, didn’t she?” Tarfus sneered.

Tarfus could almost hear Auva’s teeth crack and she clenched them, and spat, “For your information, no. Would you prefer the alternative? The subjuggalators and sea-dwellers fighting for control of the empire? They wouldn’t wage a quiet political battle behind closed doors. It’d be a brutal, messy and ultimately pointless bloodbath,” she grated.

“Pointless?” Tarfus demanded, “Okay, so the subjuggalators are grubshit-insane and have no business ruling anything. But how frond-waggling fuck can you call that sort of upheaval ‘pointless’?”

Auva looked toward the curtain and sighed, her fingers twitching. “You are aware of the Empress’ lusus, yes?” Tarfus arched an eyebrow and nodded. “Well,” Auva continued, “Then you are aware that it is capable of wiping out every single person on the planet should it go unfed for more than a single day or two?”

Tarfus stared, speechless for a long moment before managing to sputter, “You’re shitting me. Couldn’t somebody else just feed the damn thing?”

Auva grimaced. “Yes. In fact, that’s what happens most of the time. The issue at hand, is that nobody knows what will happen if the Empress is killed and there is no heir to take her place. Will her lusus refuse to eat? Will it immediately bellow with rage, killing us all instantly? Will things continue as they are?”

Tarfus stared at Auva for a moment longer before running his hand through his hair wildly. “Shit. Fuck. And I tried to kill her. Holy shit.” He thumped heavily against the back of the bench, and his vision swam for a moment. “You’re telling me that if we’d pulled it off, we may have condemned the entire species to extinction?”

Auva let out a heavy breath. “Yes. There was very little chance of that happening due to my intervention—” Tarfus scowled, “—but the possibility existed, yes.”

“Sweet Mother Grub, I’m a retard,” Tarfus muttered. “Can’t somebody just tell the subjuggalators that if they off the Empress, we’re probably all fucking doomed?”

Auva raised a delicately arched eyebrow. “And do you believe that would deter them? The subjuggalators are barely-sane brutes by most standards. The Grand Highblood would likely refer to it as a ‘miracle’, or some other preposterous quasi-religious nonsense,” she said dismissively.

“So now we’re going to the Highblood’s seat of power where the Empress is going to…do something…to shut them down before they have a chance to openly challenge her?” Tarfus said, more to himself than anything else.

Auva shook her head. “I don’t know what she plans to do. She’s frustratingly inscrutable at the best of times,” she said.

“Boo-hoo, you,” Tarfus said, “You have to decode the Empress’ mysterious whims all night.”

A strange look crossed Auva’s face as she turned away, before being replaced with her usual stoic placidness. For an instant she had looked sad, even regretful. She opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off as the car’s rumbling abruptly died down. The Empress emerged from the front of the car, and shut the bench-door behind her. Tarfus noted she still had that damned trident in one hand.

She sat down. “We’ve arrived,” she said simply.

Notes

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Not much to say about this one. Got held up a bit due to being sick all last week. Had it sitting finished for a bit, and just recently got to editing it. There's a teeny bit of foreshadowing if you know what to look for, but I doubt anybody will really pick up on it. Still, points if you identify it!

[Graven_Image]

Demon Jester: A Pale Romance
Act 2, Scene 3

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SCENE III. Wilderness. A forest clearing, with a long-empty fountain in the center.

Enter SHAKOW and JULISE.

SHAKOW

Here we are, madame.
We may stop here in seclusion 'til nightfall.
And if a beast or two does find itself here,
Here it shall not stay for long.
And while we are camped here all day,
I take it introductions are due?

JULISE

Please, sir.
I do so wish to thank my rescuer properly.

SHAKOW

Very well.

Shakow climbs atop the fountain and clears his throat. He flourishes.

SHAKOW

Behold!
There walks a troll, clad in purple and black,
Colors of high blood, surely he lacks
Not a smidgen of food, nor company want,
He be Shakow the Jester, the master of taunts.
He, master of sword, and razor card both,
Recanter of sacred Subjugglator oath.
And on that sore subject, some late trolls quoth,
"He's surely doomed, blasphemer and oaf."
But not he, the madman, he walks high and proud!
He trumps his rebellion 'cross Nyx city, loud!
And gladly he romps, as none dare to stay
The dread Jester Shakow, or get in his way,
For his reputation echoes far and wide!
He strikes terror oft, and most flee and hide.
The forgiveness of highbloods is not cheap or swift,
"Does Shakow yet live? He must have a gift,
And such awesome skill must ne'er turn on me,
Do not worry, Shakow, I shan't trouble thee."
And such are the words spoke or thought all through town
While old, lonesome Shakow walks his daily rounds.
And never unwarranted, don't be deceived,
If you're just unfunny, there's no help from me.
And perhaps this opinion of mine is to blame
When I stab the dull jokers, as is now my fame.
Humor, of course is quite serious to me.
Tell a bomb to my face, don't expect my mercy.
But some people say I need someone to check,
Or counter my tendencies of slitting necks.
Certainly I do not see it that way.
But to sum it up, allow me to say,
That as the day stretches, and night's not drawn close,
And this string of words grows rather verbose,
And while all that 'fore now is dubiously true,
My name's indeed Shakow. I'm pleased to meet you.

SHAKOW dismounts the fountain. JULISE applauds.

JULISE

Bravo, sir!
And how much of that soliloquy is true?

SHAKOW

Oh, about a half or so.
Which half, I've forgot.

A pause. SHAKOW laughs.

SHAKOW

I kid!
It is, every word, a true account.

JULISE

Even...

SHAKOW

Every word.

JULISE

Oh my.
Well, good Shakow, my name is Julise.
And until you saved me from your fellow highbloods,
My future was measured in minutes.
They sought vengeance for my unwitting ruination,
Of, of all things, their painting supplies.
I found their methods so brutalic,
I thought that certainly my friends had all been rent by great monsters.
Not, as was the case, a mad trio of Subjugglators.
Only one survived the attack, my matesprit.
And he died keeping the mad clowns at bay.
It was his blood which coated their leader's hand.

SHAKOW

If you'll permit my asking,
What would his other hand have been,
Were I not there to keep it unsullied?

JULISE

A tawny brown, leaning towards rust.
I am not a very prestigious individual, Shakow.
And I admit, I find the notion that you would risk yourself,
Saving me, quite ridiculous.

SHAKOW

And therein lies the greatest joke of all!
Is life not simply a great absurdity, on which all our follies rest?
And does that not make all things ridiculous?
To this notion I say aye, and would drink, had I a glass.

JULISE

Then pray tell, good jester.
Why were ye in the Nyxian forests at all?
Trolls only live in such places to escape,
Or worse yet, ignore, the rest of creation.
Why travelest here thou?

SHAKOW

A Blind Prophet told me of a great treasure in the forests,
And with it, the key to my salvation from some horrible misfortune.
It was supposed to be under threat by my brothers.
But they only seemed to take interest in you and yours.
So it seems the Prophet was mistaken after all.

JULISE

It would appear so.
I'm certainly no treasure.
Me, a brownblood, a treasure?
Empress forbid!

JULISE and SHAKOW laugh.

SHAKOW

In any case, it is high time we retired for the day.
Tonight, we make for Nyx.
There, no Subjugglator will trouble you.

Exeunt. Enter the PROPHET.

PROPHET

And on went Shakow, heedless.
He and fair Julise would indeed return,
To Nyx, unmolested and unharmed.
But the highbloods are not so easily spurned,
And the troll, seeking his tawny ink,
Now seeks counsel of one far deadlier than he...

Exit.

A/N

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Act 2 is over, right? Wrong.

We've still got one thing to wrap up before we can get going. Guess who we're going to next. Go on, guess.

[LordHyper]

Untitled
A/N:

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This is based on my theory that Betty Crocker has been brainwashing Jane. And here's a shitty picture to go along with it.

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"How could you do this to me Jane?" gasped Jake. He was on the ground and was slowly bleeding to death due to Jane having gouging out his stomach with her fricking spoon. Speaking of Jane, she stood over him, with a blank yet gleeful expression on her face.

"Because the great CrockerCorp Empire told me to!" said Jane. Jake slowly extended his hand to grab one of his pistols when Jane descended onto him and jabbed him in the eye with her spoon. Jake was grateful that she hadn't chosen to gouge out his eyes.

"J-J-Jane... how dare you choose to obey that villainous baked goods empire?" said Jake. He suddenly yelped in pain as Jane kicked him in the chest.

"Okay Jake, last chance. How about you join with me and the great empire? If you do, I'll give you this first-aid kit." said Jane. She pulled out her emergency first aid-kit, which she keeps on herself since some detectives tend to get into fights. "Oooooh... It's suuuuuper temptiiiiiing...."

"I am no coward! I will never accept such a thing!"

"And why not?" said Jane, authentically curious.

Now it was Jake's turn to smile. "This isn't what it was meant to be my dear. After a rousing conversation with my aunt, I learned of the existence of doomed timelines. Things must have obviously went horribly wrong l-l-leading to this disastrous timeline..."

"That sounds like a great deduction! Perhaps if you joined me, we would have made great detectives working together under the spoon symbol of our great leader. Buuuuut I guess I'll just leave you here to die! Bye Jake!" said Jane cheerfully, skipping off and leaving Jake to rot so she could go after everyone else.

"Heh... Goodbye dear sister. P-Perhaps we'll sit in a dream bubble and chat later after you die. It... it will be a rousing great time..."

[SkaianRedeemer]

@Katrika: Very nice! Although the beginning was more interesting in how it covered events we've never seen (or perhaps, covered variants of events we've never seen). Nice use of title/title drop.

@PingZing: I had a little confusion in this one about where the Empress was at any given time. It didn't occur to me that she was even still with them until she showed up at the end. A re-read set me straight, but I think Tarfus' confusion over the makeup of a car muddied more than just the makeup of the car.

@Graven: Ahh, irony.

[draconicAlgorithm]

Have a little standalone ficlet based on recent canon events.

Also, just to warn you, it's sad.

Not Him

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After the Prospit ship broke through yet another window thing (wall, John remembered, Jade had called it the fourth wall, so did that make the next one the fifth?), John was instantly assaulted by a chilly fall breeze. It was something he wasn't ready for, after he'd gotten used to the almost ridiculously warm temperature on Lohac. Plus, his god-tier hoodie did not have the benefit of sleeves like Jade's.

"Where are we?" He said aloud, the first words he'd managed to get in since Jade had teleported him onto the ship. She'd been too busy shrinking worlds and spinning them around her or whatever else she was doing. It looked important, and since John only had a vague idea of what was going on, he didn't want to disturb her. At his comment, however, her ears perked up, a sight which was still a little strange. Even as she continued to direct the tiny planets that spiraled around her, she glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"We're on Earth!" John stared back for a moment, dumbfounded. Earth? But wasn't Earth destroyed and void of life? He walked over to the edge of the ship.

Far down below, he saw Earth as he remembered it. Almost, anyway. It was fall now, and the leaves had all changed to red and orange and yellow. The land below looked like it was on fire. John had trouble deciding if it was beautiful or disturbing.

"How'd this happen?" He asked.

"This is the reset Earth," Jade replied. "Before SBurb. It hasn't been ravaged by meteors. Yet, anyway." The "yet" made his heart sink. It was so hard to accept that they were going to have to let everything that had happened to them happen again to another group of kids. He didn't understand all the specifics of it, but he knew that much.

"Anyway," Jade went on, "it's just a brief stop. A reference point. We'll be leaving in just a few minutes to join Dave and Rose and finally meet the trolls!" She giggled excitedly at that.

"How can't they see us?" John asked, staring down at the ground below. "The humans on Earth, I mean. We're not that high up. I can still see individual people." It was beginning to look like his neighborhood.

"Oh, I've distorted space around us a bit," Jade replied. "They might see a sort of shimmer, but that's all! Don’t worry about it, John, just enjoy the ride. Your job is done!"

"Yeah," he said, but he wasn't really paying attention. The little suburb below really was his neighborhood. Without thinking, he immediately picked out his own house. And, when he saw who was standing in the front lawn, his heart nearly stopped.

Dad. His dad. Still alive, not stabbed through the chest with his blood all over the ground. His dad was alive. Joy, relief, pure happiness filled him. His dad was alive! He nearly jumped off the edge of the ship to fly down and meet him, to hug him again like he hadn't gotten a chance to.

But the rest of the scene stopped him. There was someone else there, a girl he didn't recognize. She looked a little like Jade, but with shorter hair and smaller glasses. She was older, too, at least two years older than either of them. She stuck her tongue out at his dad, and he pointed back to the door, obviously indicating she go back inside.

That was when it hit John. That wasn't his father. That wasn't the man who had raised him. That Dad might be identical, he might even sound and act the same, but they weren't the same person. He was someone else's Dad, and if John had flown down there, the man wouldn't have recognized him at all.

John immediately tore his eyes away from the scene and stood. When he looked up, he saw that Jade was staring at him with a worried look.

"Are you okay?" She asked. He nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get going. I want to see Rose again, and to finally meet Dave and Karkat and Vriska!" He grinned. Jade grinned back.

"Me too! I can't wait to see the trolls. I bet they'll be so weird!" She turned forward again, and once John was sure she wasn't going to turn back, he furiously wiped his watering eyes on his arm.

His dad was gone. He was gone, and nothing, not even a reset, was going to bring him back.

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I just got the idea "What if John saw Jane's dad? How would he react?" and the rest just sort of happened.

EDIT: @ SkaianRedeemer: Oh, those are great. Particularly the second one. I have seen entirely too much "SKULLS AND GUNS" Jake on Tumblr today, and it's nice that someone remembered that he also likes movies. All movies.

[SkaianRedeemer]

@draconicAlgorithm: Poor John.

@ SkaianRedeemer: Oh, those are great. Particularly the second one. I have seen entirely too much "SKULLS AND GUNS" Jake on Tumblr today, and it's nice that someone remembered that he also likes movies. All movies.

Fanfic prompt: John and Karkat fight over the DVD player while Jake just watches Animal House and tells them to be quiet with three generations of insults.

[Graven_Image]

Demon Jester: A Pale Romance
Act 2, Scene 4

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SCENE IV. Subjugglator's Lair. Throne of the Grand Highblood.

Enter the three SUBJUGGLATORS, and the GRAND HIGHBLOOD.

First Subjugglator

Hail, Grand Highblood. We seek audience with ye.

Grand Highblood

Well, you know, that's just awesome.
But you've gotta remember my terms, brah.
All these fancy audiences have to cost a joke I haven't heard yet.
Make with the funny, or I'm gonna have to get my exsanguination on.

First Subjugglator

Very well, Grand Highblood.

First SUBJUGGLATOR motions the Third towards the GRAND HIGHBLOOD. The Third steps forward.

Third Subjugglator

How many rustbloods does it take to change a socket-based illumination device?

Grand Highblood

None. Rustbloods can't change anything.
Heard it before. Next!

The Third SUBJUGGLATOR steps back, as the Second steps forward.

Second Subjugglator

If a red hive is made of red brick, and a blue hive is made of blue brick, what is a greenhive made of?

Grand Highblood

Glass, duh.
I hope you've got one better,
Or else ya'll will be getting an audience, for sure.
With the rest of the paint on my walls, that is.

The Second SUBJUGGLATOR retreats, as the First advances.

First Subjugglator

What is a Petticoat Seagrift's favorite element on the Periodic Table?

Grand Highblood

Hmm.
Never heard this one, but I'm pretty sure it's "ARR-gon".
So you lose, buddies. Let's make with th-.

First Subjugglator

No.

It's gold, stupid.

A long pause. The GRAND HIGHBLOOD begins laughing, and the three SUBJUGGLATORS laugh with him.

Grand Highblood

I gotta remember that one!
That's the best joke I've heard in a long time, man.
You win that audience you were talking about.
Now what do you want?

First Subjugglator

You remember Shakow, of course.

Grand Highblood

Yeah, I remember him.
So what?

SUBJUGGLATORS walk with the GRAND HIGHBLOOD offstage.

First Subjugglator

It all started with a certain rustblooded apostate...

Exeunt.

A/N

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I spent three years making those jokes.

I hope you appreciate all the crap I go through for you people.

[linkhyrule5]

snip

... I don't know what to say. I really don't. Shakow is... just... I'm not sure whether to be annoyed or amused at him.

...also, ninja'd by another snippet. Interesting take on Subjuggulator culture (I'm never sure if I spell that right...)

On another note, hi all! Yet another forumite looking for recommendations from the thousand-odd fics here in this forum!

[SkaianRedeemer]

The funniest part about that exchange is the Subjuggalator getting away with calling the boss "stupid." It makes so little sense with what we know about their culture that what we know about their culture makes it wraps around and becomes perfect.

@linkhyrule5: What are you looking for?

[linkhyrule5]

Gen fics, of pretty much any type so long as it isn't grimdark. If there are any post-SBURB fics where the kids keep their powers, that would be interesting as well. Really, though, quality matters more than content .

[Aqizzar]

I hope you appreciate all the crap I go through for you people.

Totally worth it. You know some classic good bad jokes, especially the Argon/Gold one.