MSPA Fanfiction VII: End of Thread 6 Flash

[Dermonster]

Holy shit.

Wait so everyones gonna talk to themselves with a different blood color/is human with varying guardians?

Oh god Vriska raised by Bro.

[ch00_bakka]

ArcFour. I have two words for you.

Challenge accepted.

Shit just got real.

[ArcFour]

ArcFour. I have two words for you.

Challenge accepted.

Oh, it's ON now, my friend.

I hereby name you Official Recorder of the Altblood Challenge (the challenge otherwise known as Raikonos' Boast).

And I am TOTALLY writing some of those. TOTALLY. In fact, everyone should!

This is gonna be so great.

[Raikonos]

It's a shame that "Official Recorder of the Altblood Challenge" is too long to be a forum title. Still, I thought this warranted replacement.

Civil Motherfucker was a good one while it lasted.

[ch00_bakka]

Tav Strider is best strider.

[Raikonos]

He's pretty cool, yeah. In his own way.

Tav Strider is best Strider: Todd Strider (Tavros) and Yellowblood Eridan

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communalAngst [CA] began trolling alarmingTempo [AT]

CA: hey
CA: wwhat the fuck are you evven wearin you look like a tool
AT: ??
CA: thoSe thingS on your face
AT: yOU MEAN MY SHADES,
CA: Sure wwhatevver
AT: tHEY MAKE ME LOOK COOL,
AT: oR FEEL COOL, aT LEAST,
CA: no they make you look like a fuckin aSShole aS i already eStablished
CA: wwhatS the point
AT: tHEY KEEP THE SUN FROM GETTING IN MY EYES,
CA: wwhy wwould you evver go out during the day
CA: wwhat are you Some kinda dumbaSS
CA: oh wwait
AT: }>:(
CA: Stupid emoteS too
AT: wELL OBVIOUSLY i’M NOT USING THEM FOR THAT RIGHT *NOW*,
AT: lIKE i SAID, i’M JUST WEARING THEM TO LOOK COOL,
AT: aND MAYBE IRONIC,
AT: i’M STILL NOT ENTIRELY SURE i’VE GOT A HANDLE ON THAT, iF i’M BEING HONEST,
CA: oh yeah thatS wwhat i came here to do
CA: talk to an alien douche about hiS problemS wwith
CA: wwhatevver the fuck you just Said
AT: iRONY,
CA: yeah that
AT: oK MAN,
AT: lET ME TELL YOU ABOUT IRONY,
CA: no
CA: dont care
CA: youre impedin your vviSion indoorS for no adequately explained reaSon
CA: im not liStenin to you about anythin
AT: sORRY BUT,
AT: mY BRO ALWAYS TOLD ME A STRIDER NEVER TAKES NO FOR AN ANSWER,
AT: sO I HOPE YOU’RE READY,
CA: ready
CA: for wwhat
AT: rEADY TO GET BROAD-SIDE HOMESCHOOLED UP YOUR ALIEN ASS,
AT: aBOUT IRONY,
AT: (aSSUMING THAT YOU ALIENS HAVE ASSES, i GUESS)
CA: wwhat the fuck
CA: wwhy wwouldnt
CA: ok no fuck wwere not talkin about that
AT: i’M JUST GOING TO ASSUME, tHAT YOUR ALIEN ANATOMY IS IDENTICAL TO HUMANS UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE,
CA: SoundS like a plan
CA: hey look at that you almoSt got wwithin vviewwin diStance of competence
AT: wHATEVER, dON’T CARE,
AT: oK LET ME JUST,
AT: gET MY NOTES HERE,
CA: hahaha
CA: you havve NOTES?
CA: oh my god thiS iS awwful
AT: uH,
AT: wELL THE NOTES WEREN’T LITERAL,
AT: i JUST MEANT THAT i’M ORGANIZING MY THOUGHTS,
CA: dude i can See you
CA: you totally havve noteS
AT: uM,
AT: oK THAT DOESN’T MATTER, wE’RE STARTING,
AT: aLRIGHT, sO,
AT: iRONY IS BASICALLY STATING THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU MEAN,
AT: iT’S A BIT LIKE SARCASM, bUT THERE’S MORE TO IT THAN THAT,
CA: wwait hang on
CA: wwhy
AT: wHY WHAT,
CA: wwhy wwould you do that
AT: fOR IRONIC EFFECT,
CA: So
CA: youre doin irony
CA: for ironyS Sake
AT: yES,
CA: and
CA: and thiS makeS SenSe in your culture
CA: or the joke that paSSeS for it
AT: uM, tO AN EXTENT YES,
CA: i
CA: ok noww im legitimately curiouS
AT: }:D
AT: oK,
AT: sO LIKE, iRONY AT ITS CORE IS ALL ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT YOU EXPECT AND WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS,
AT: tHAT’S NOT ENTIRELY ACCURATE i GUESS BUT IT GETS THE POINT ACROSS,
CA: So youvve got a Society baSed on miSdirection
AT: wHAT,
AT: nO,
AT: nOT EVERYONE IS ALL ABOUT THE IRONY,
CA: oh So itS juSt you then
CA: ok So you ARE juSt a tool then
AT: i’M TRYING TO BE MORE LIKE MY BRO,
CA: youre wwhat
AT: mY BRO,
AT: hE RAISED ME FROM WHEN I WAS A BABY,
CA: ok So
CA: bro iS the human wword for luSuS
CA: and
CA: baby meanS grub??
CA: wwith you So far i gueSS
AT: yEAH ALL OF THOSE CERTAINLY SOUND LIKE THINGS THAT ARE TRUE,
AT: i SURE KNOW WHAT ALL THOSE WORDS MEAN,
CA: fuck off
AT: bUT YEAH, bRO’S WAY BETTER AT THE IRONY THAN ME,
AT: hE’S SO IRONIC IT WRAPS ALL THE WAY BACK AROUND TO SINCERE,
AT: aND THEN KEEPS GOING,
AT: hE’S KIND OF A BITCH TO READ, aCTUALLY,
AT: nEVER SURE WHAT HE’S THINKING,
CA: So
CA: heS either bein ironic or not bein ironic
CA: lyin or not lyin
CA: thiS doeSnt Sound that difficult
AT: bUT HE OPERATES UNDER SO MANY SHIFTING LAYERS OF IRONY THAT SOMETIMES HE BREAKS IRONY ENTIRELY,
AT: sTARTS GETTING IRONIC ABOUT IRONY,
AT: mETA-IRONY,
CA: wwhat
AT: aND SOMETIMES HE GETS DOUBLE META IRONIC, oR MORE,
CA: i
CA: howw do you
CA: god damn
AT: sO YEAH i’M NOWHERE NEAR THAT LEVEL OF COMPETENCE,
AT: oR EVEN UNDERSTANDING,
AT: i NEED SOMEONE TO RAP WITH, bASICALLY,
AT: lITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY,
CA: wwhatS the difference
AT: yOU KNOW LIKE,
AT: tALK TO,
AT: vERSUS, gETTING MY SICK RHYMES OUT,
CA: oh
CA: Slam poetry
AT: hEH, tHAT’S A GOOD NAME FOR IT,
AT: i SHOULD USE THAT,
CA: itS the only name for it moron
AT: bUT THAT CAN WAIT FOR ANOTHER TIME,
AT: rIGHT NOW I’M MORE WORRIED ABOUT THE FIRST ONE,
AT: jUST NEED SOMEONE NEW TO TALK TO SO I CAN WORK OUT THE IRONY
AT: tHANKS BTW,
CA: huh
CA: wwait hold on
CA: are you uSin me for fuckin emotional Support or Somethin
AT: wELL,
AT: i GUESS THAT’S A WAY OF PUTTING IT,
CA: oh no
CA: fuck no aSShole im not doin thiS
CA: i already HAVVE a moirail jackaSS
AT: oH COME ON MAN,
AT: i COULD BE A MUCH BETTER, wHATEVER IT IS YOU JUST SAID,
AT: tHAN WHATEVER ASSHOLE YOU’RE MOIRALLING IT UP WITH,
CA: moirailing
AT: yEAH THAT,
CA: fuck off doucheglaSSeS
AT: wHATEVER YOU SAY, aLIEN PALE-PAL,
AT: tHANKS FOR THE HELP,
CA: juSt
CA: ugh why did i evven bother with thiS

communalAngst [CA] ceased trolling alarmingTempo [AT]

AT: hAHA,

Man, every single one of these so far has started with "X began trolling Y". Where my pesters at?

edit: Wrote another one, didn't want to double post.

Prompted by a Pesterchum convo: Greenblood Equius and Greenblood Feferi:

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cavernsTorment [CT] began trolling cultivatedCanopy [CC]

CT: D --> I don’t know what to do with myself anymore
CC: Hmm?
CC: What’s wrong?
CT: D --> I’ve e%hausted every cultural outlet available to me
CT: D --> You’ve seen the high art I drew on the walls
CT: D --> I’ve run out of walls
CC: Haha, oh yeah. THOS--E drawings.
CC: I still can’t believe you drew those.
CT: D --> I didn’t know you thought so highly of my drawing talent
CT: D --> Thank you
CC: Oh, um...
CC: Well yeah, they W-ER-E pretty good.
CC: But I was talking about the subject matter.
CT: D --> Feferi we’ve b33n over this
CT: D --> My paintings are not 100d and you will refrain from referring to them as such
CT: D --> Please
CC: 8o
CC: You’re being awfully cordial.
CC: Is something the MATT---ER??
CT: D --> Well I did open by saying that I don’t know what to do with myself
CC: 8P
CC: So what’s up?
CT: D --> I just cannot stand living in these conditions any longer
CT: D --> There are so many ways I could be an asset to the empire even with my middling blood
CT: D --> But none of them are attainable out here in the goshdarned wilderness
CT: D --> Pardon my language
CC: Well, move then.
CC: We’ve got plenty of friends who would let you move into their hive for a while.
CT: D --> I think you overestimate what our mutual acquaintances think of me
CC: They’d hold a higher opinion of you if you hadn’t logged so many hours of disdain towards our lower-blooded friends.
CC: I think you need to branch out a little more.
CC: Turn over a new leaf!
CT: D --> Feferi, can we please not do the tr33 puns
CT: D --> I’m trying to have a serious discussion
CC: Well, okay.
CC: But I think we’re pussyfooting around the issue here.
CT: D --> Or the cat puns
CC: 83
CT: D --> Anyway it’s a moot point
CT: D --> My 100sus refuses to relocate
CC: Your lusus sounds like a handful!
CT: D --> Pounce de Leon is a good custodian and I’m glad to have her
CT: D --> But sometimes she can be just
CT: D --> So goshdarned
CT: D --> Stubborn
CC: 8|
CC: I know ----EXACTLY what you mean.
CC: My lusus is the same.
CC: But I guess it’s less of an issue for me because I’m happy out here!
CT: D --> My only conne%ion to civilization is this computer
CT: D --> And after six sweeps that is honestly just not enough anymore
CT: D --> I’m stuck out here in a cave, dead weight to the empire
CT: D --> And it’s beginning to affect my hunting
CT: D --> Pounce had to save me from a rather large cholerbear that I sh001d have s33n coming
CT: D --> It was very embarrassing
CC: Are you alright?!
CT: D --> Apart from my pride, yes
CC: -Equius, I think you need to stop being so down on yourself.
CC: Stop being so focused on taking up roots and moving on to greener pastures!
CT: D --> Feferi what did I tell you
CC: Sorry.
CC: Meow.
CC: But yeah, there are PL-ENTY of ways you could make yourself useful.
CC: You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure it out.
CT: D --> I haven’t yet
CC: I’ll try to swing by next week.
CC: We can have a feelings jam.
CT: D --> Alright
CT: D --> I will prepare the carrion pile
CC: Haha!
CC: --Excellent!
CT: D --> Are you sure though
CT: D --> My cave is a bit far from your usual hunting grounds
CC: Of COURS-E I’m sure!
CC: What kind of moirail would I be if I wasn’t?
CT: D --> Well
CT: D --> Okay, I will see you then
CT: D --> Thanks

cavernsTorment [CT] ceased trolling cultivatedCanopy [CC]

I made Feferi's blood/text a bit lighter to make it easier to read, but I'm still counting this in the chart as a conversation with Nepeta-blood Feferi.

Also, if anyone else is interested in tackling this hilariously unattainable challenge with me then I might make a dedicated thread in Group Art, so as to not clog up this thread. Any takers?

[Graven_Image]

I will definitely try my hand at a few of those. I too love altcolors.

[Archaeopteryx]

I might take a shot at a couple of conversations.

Also, you're aware that that giant image you made only needs to be half the size, yes? Half the options are identical to the others, reflected over the black line.

And are we counting canon sets, or not? Would Blue John and Lavender Rose count as something that needs to be done, since that's canon?

[Raikonos]

I'm aware that half the cells are superfluous, but it was either mirror the cells as I'm doing now or grey out half the cells. It didn't sit right with me having that many cells useless, and I figure it's easier to look up cells this way.

As for canon sets, I guess most of those could be marked as complete on principle, but I figure if we're writing this many logs we might as well go for the whole set. I'm open to the alternative, though.

The thing I'm most on the fence about is memos. Would a memo count as a conversation between every pair of characters involved? That's a lot of boxes at once.

Anyway I'll make the thread once I've finished dinner, I guess.

[Graven_Image]

Samecolors are fun.

GREY AS ALL GET OUT: Canon-Karkat and Grey-p Faygo Gamzee

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carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling trypticChemophobia [TC]

CG: ALRIGHT, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU LAZY EXCUSE FOR A THRESHECUTIONER-WANNABEE.
CG: MAKE IT GOOD, I'M RUNNING LOW ON BOTH TIME AND PATIENCE AND I HAVEN'T EVEN MET HALF THE INSANE SONS OF GRUBS I'M SUPPOSED TO TODAY
CG: WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?
TC: maaan, i don't even knoooow anymore
TC: everything's just
TC: really booooorrrring
TC: god
TC: i thought meeting somone like me would cheer me up
TC: buuut no
TC: you're angry and shouty like aaaaall the rest of em.
CG: OH THAT'S RICH.
CG: I'VE KNOWN YOU FOR FIFTEEN SECONDS, AND YOU'RE ALREADY THE DULLEST CONVERSATIONAL PARTNER I'VE HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF HAVING.
CG: THE LEAST SHARP MEATCUTTING IMPLEMENT IN THE SLIDING UTENSIL STORAGE COMPARTMENT, IN OTHER WORDS.
CG: I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHY I BOTHER.
CG: SCREW IT, I'M GOING TO GO ANNOY ANOTHER ONE OF THE VRISKAS.
TC: man noooo
TC: don't go
TC: i wanna give a try to the whole being alive thing but nobody's giving me a chance
CG: THE WHOLE BEING ALIVE THING.
TC: yeah man
CG: THIS STRONGLY IMPLIES TO ME THAT YOU'RE NOT LIVING RIGHT NOW.
TC: yeah, dude, it's just like
TC: i'm hovering.
TC: half asleep.
TC: i can tell there's a world out there, but i can't get out into it.
TC: i need help.
CG: YES, YES YOU DEFINITELY NEED HELP.
CG: BUT NOT THE KIND I'M ABOUT TO GIVE YOU, WHICH IS PATENTED KARKAT VANTAS I'M-ABOUT-TO-KICK-YOUR-ASS HELP.
CG: OK STEP ONE.
CG: ARE YOU ON DRUGS?
TC: no.
CG: STEP TWO.
CG: ARE YOU LITERALLY DEAD?
TC: no.
CG: STEP THREE.
CG: ARE YOU ASLEEP?
TC: no.
TC: wait yes
TC: yes i am.
CG: STEP FOUR.
CG: WAKE THE HELL UP!
CG: DING DING DONG, WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BAKEY.
TC: augh
TC: oh god
TC: What.
TC: My
TC: Augh, my freaking HEAD
TC: WHAT THE HELL
TC: WHY AM I OUTSIDE
TC: OH MY GOD DID I SLEEPWALK AGAIN
TC: MY SKIN
TC: IT'S COVERED IN BURNS
TC: I AM LITERALLY A WALKING SAUTEED GRUBLOAF
TC: AUGH
TC: AUGH
TC: GOD
TC: WHY
CG: YOU HAVE NOW BEEN BROUGHT DOWN TO MY LEVEL.
CG: THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING KARKAT-MART.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling trypticChemophobia [TC]

[mythmonster2]

I would also be interested in doing some of these color-swap convos. I'll probably end up copping out and doing the ?120? canon color convos though. :P

[Raikonos]

Ok guys, the thread is up.

As ArcFour put it, let the games begin.

And that's fine mythmonster, glad to have you on board. Those cells have gotta get filled out some time.

[Windwaker]

Hello fanfiction thread!

I just finished reading Strider's Edge and it broke my poor little heart, a process I enjoyed far too much. Being as well versed and immersed in Homestuck 'fic as you all are, does anyone have recommendations for similar works? :P

[Sionnan]

I have been really, really behind on the Homestuck updates, but here's a little bit of what I've caught up on, turned into a Guardian fic.

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>> Not this one, too.

She remembers each child, in some distant scrapbook, snapshot part of herself. With each failure, she feels it as keenly as though she had lost each and every one.She watches the stars for the signs, and walks the silent laboratory, listening to the sound of her footsteps in the cavernous space. Lately, she has been sleeping less and less, every fiber and nerve attentuated to the slightest signal. She is waiting.

She drinks to dull the roaring pain that all that buried grief imbues her with. She drinks to keep herself from remembering specifics, the way they smelled right after a bath, or the feel of the small bottom in her lap as she sits with them...


She drinks, so that she can pretend this one has been the only child she has ever had.

>> Not this one, too.

There are certain points where he is overwhelmed with grief. He is not a man of terribly strong affect; many would call him gentle, subdued. This isn't entirely true, but he doesn't put himself out trying to rectify their misconceptions. He is a man of strong, deep passions, and capable of a kind of all consuming love that is usually only storied. He remembers every child.

It has come to him that there are ineffable, inevitable certainties that exist in the universe. Sudden, catastrophic, and wrenching death being one of them. He has lost his wife and mother to them, and countless sons.

It is inevitable that they must always strike off on their own. But until that time, he wants to treasure every one of them, for all of their novelty and vivaciousness. He coddles them, and each second passed is a second too soon in passing, because there is never enough time in the world with them.

>> Not this one, too.

At some point, numb shock and grief has slipped into anger. He has no idea how many times it's been now. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if it's been only one since, or a hundred. He figures, nothing has the right to decide whether or not some kid gets to live. No one gets to decide that the universe is going to fold up and cease to exist, on the back of some kid.

But the thing is, he can't stop it from happening-- but he can try every time. The thing is, he doesn't want these kids to be heroes. He wants them to be kids. So he trains, and fights, and studies, but he knows, deep down, it will never be enough.

He preps each kid carefully to survive the shit they're going to be put through. He's not old enough to be a proper father, and at best he can be a much older brother. His youth leaves its mark on each kid.

But the both of them have a strong, burning desire to live, and rectify the situation so strongly that it doesn't matter.

He doesn't want the kid to die; he hopes that throwing himself into the gears will either break the machine, or slow the whole process down long enough for the kid and his friends to fix it.

He never knows if it's ever worked.

[linkhyrule5]

... that was awesome. Don't know how it would fit into canon, but it's... a really creepy AU. And explains a lot about the Guardians.

Especially Bro. "Break the unbreakable, go Beyond the Impossible," indeed...

(Write one for Grandpa, or Bec! )

[Archaeopteryx]

Mind if I steal Bec?

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>> Not this one, too.
It bewilders you, sometimes, how in four billion, five hundred forty-eight million, three hundred fourteen thousand, two hundred and sixteen years and 103 days, you can become so attached to a child of the species you saw grow from wandering proteins in the primordial soup.

You remember the great vivid explosion of life in the Devonian, the sudden diversity of life in the vast and endless seas, and you thought you understood your own creation, because this world was worth anything, so bright and beautiful and vibrant. You were not as you are now: you swam in the sea, because the land was dull and dry and lifeless, and the sea was full of things to chase and catch and fetch.

You remember the great reptiles, the ponderous monsters and quick, clever bipeds, and the dragonflies to jump and snap, and the herds of beasts that lumbered across continents.

You remember watching them die, and vowing, in your puppylike consciousness, that you would never let it happen again: that the sky would never strike down at your world again.

You watched them crawl up onto the land, and you watched them climb down out of the trees, and you watched them wander across the plains, and when one of their number struck stones together to spark, you knew that this was your purpose, and the sense of love and wonder that filled you then was equalled every time they leapt forward again, every time they showed you their cleverness. You loved the great and primitive reefs, but these creatures are beautiful and creative and the things they make with their clever hands amaze you, and they know so little and are so fragile.

In time they go from plains-wanderers to city-builders, and they harness the power of lightning, and you wait and watch on your island until there is a child.

You love the walking apes, but you love this infant. In four billion, five hundred forty-eight million, three hundred fourteen thousand, two hundred and six years, you have never had a playmate, and being close to one of your beloved makers shows you a kind of love you have never known before, dizzying heights of adoration you had not thought possible.

In every game, every time, you sacrifice yourself; you leap into the flashing kernel, and hurl yourself against the falling stone with all your strength, and you burn your world for the sake of the child you love so much, and it is always, always futile. You feel it when she dies, and your heart breaks and you lift your head and howl for her and for your own failure.

And then you do it all again.

[Windwaker]

Dang, that gave me shivers.

Also, I wrote a thing? I've never really written fanfiction before, so I was really surprised when I say down to write my college essay and this little drabble popped out instead. ;>.>

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The wind whistles through his teeth as he bares them, snarling at the eyes and teeth and mouths and darkness that loom toward where he sleeps. Not the “real” him. Just him.

Not cool. Not cool at all, Bro’d say.

HEY COOLK1D, 1 C4N T4ST3 YOUR T34RS >:]¸ Terezi’d say.

Who gives a flying fuck? Maybe Dave wasn’t allowed to feel anything, but orange feathery assholes certainly were.

caw caw motherfuckers

Edit: The text colors! They are wrong. Damn.

Double edit: Figured out the issue.

[Non-Player Character]

Well, it's been months since I showed my wretched face around here, but I'm back with something to contribute, sorta. There are like four chapters of it.

Alternian Reversal

The ships come, as they come every sweep, to gather the next generation into the vast military machine that is the Alternian Empire. They may be a few perigees early, but how better to keep the new recruits on their toes?

Except that they’re too late, anyway. The Empire is dead and broken, and the only question now is what the victors will do with what’s left over now that it’s gone.

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It's on Ao3, perhaps unsurprisingly.

Please feel free to read, enjoy, and criticize!

[Megafire]

That whole project is absolutely insane.

And I'm going to find a conversation I can do to help.

Up until then, Chapter 16 of Homesick is up on AO3.

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Introducing Myriam Feygin, the girl with quite possibly the coolest name of the group. She has been experiencing trouble with TyrannosaurusRock for a little while now, but after they both spoke with David and Thijs, they finally get to have a decent conversation.

We are also introduced to Myriam's brother and sister.

Introduction chapters tend to take the longest, since I have to coordinate with the person the character is based on quite a bit.

[Archaeopteryx]

So I was sketching, and I accidentally Sn[COLOR="rgb(0, 0, 0)"]owman[/COLOR] Jade.

The progression from there seemed logical.

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> Be Tarot Turntables

You are now Jacks Even.

You really wish you weren’t.

You are sprawled in a dark and filthy alley in a steadily growing pool of your own blood.

You really, really want to stab something.

More importantly, you want to not die.

Your radio is in your pocket, miles away. Your hand twitches. With herculean effort, you slide it the few inches it takes to press the button. The radio crackles to life, and Doubles is on the line immediately.

“Boss?”

You mean to explain the situation, but your teeth and tongue aren’t cooperating. What you get is an inarticulate groan.

“Shit. Boss, I’m on the way. Don’t die.”

Your miniscule reserves of energy evaporate, and you slump against the pavement, every muscle going slack. You’re dizzy from blood loss, and the world seems to be fading in and out around you, and you’re exhausted and cold and wouldn’t it be nice to just...

go to...

sleep...

--

“Boss?”

You groan, lifting a hand to shade your eyes, except you don’t, because your body still won’t respond. The world is bright and harsh and everything hurts.

“Thank god.”

"Mngnuuuuuuuuh," you say. Doubles correctly interprets your mumbling as 'what happened?'

"Someone decided to fuck your shit up, Boss. Well. I say 'someone'."

You stare at the ceiling. Statuette. Of course it was Statuette. Other people hate you enough, but they would have made sure to finish the job. Also, Statuette's the only one good enough to start it in the first place.

Gradually, it dawns on you that something is wrong with your vision, and not just your myopia. Your hand twitches towards your face. "Mngnuh?!"

"What?"

Tarot's voice. "I believe he is referring to his eye."

"Oh. Sorry, boss. We were busy trying to keep you alive, didn't manage to save the eye."

"Ffuh." You struggle to sit up, and Doubles pushes you back down.

"Whoa whoa whoa. You can't get up yet. Stay on the couch."

"Muh." You scowl, a little off-put by the strange tightness in your face, but give up without much protest. Actually, not moving sounds really good right about now, since every little ache and pain decided to remind you that yes, you almost died. "G... gl..." You gesture feebly, trying to indicate that you want your glasses. Doubles bypasses the middleman and puts them directly on your face. You scowl again, although you don't really mind. You're not sure you could move your hand that far.

"Ghn." Your wrist slides off the edge of the couch, and you don't bother to pull it back. You're going to get Statuette back for this, no question of that. You liked that eye.

You're going to get her back. Later.

Jacks Evens = John
Tarot Turntables = Rose (TT)
Doubles Snake-eyes = Dave
Statuette = Jade

[ArcFour]

So, I found these deep in my Unfinished Works folder. I had totally forgotten about them; I'd written it after John went godtier, and I basically thought "You know, going godtier would have to be REALLY REALLY STRANGE FEELING."

So, have some of my older work, on the house! I considered rewriting them, but nah, I'll leave them as is, for the sake of posterity.

Heir of Beats

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The pain tears through you like a battering ram, rips through your chest and shreds it, and everything is fire and static as your nerves burn, and through it all, all you can think of is that it’s funny that you’re going to die this way, taken down by stone and earth and wood, pulled together into living form, just like you had always dreamed (because outside of Sburb, a rock is just a rock, but here it’s so much more), and as you fall backwards onto the stone table you wonder if the creature that killed you knows just how influential you were in its design, in its creation (because you took prototyping very, very seriously). A creator felled by its creation, Frankenstein and his monster, and if your chest hadn’t been hammered into a bloody fucking pulp you’d laugh.

You hit the table, and the pain blinds you; no more can you see the stone and the mist and the sky of your planet. All of it fades into the random colored swirls of pain that paint your eyelids, as the burning, ripping pain begins to get worse. Your heart miraculously still beats, one-two, one-two, one-two, and you focus on it, hold onto it, even as it begins to flutter, even as you feel tears of pain and fear track down your face.

You never thought dying would hurt this much. (You never thought you’d die.)

And as everything begins to fade, pain and thought and sight and sound and the fluttering one-two heartbeat, your last thought before the darkness and silence descends is that you hope she is okay (that she never has to know how you died).

Then all is quiet, but for your heartbeat (the staccato rhythm of life). One-two. One-two. One-two.

One.

And for a time, nothing is left but the void.

Then, came the word that changed everything.

ASCEND

The void explodes into unmoving motion, unseen colors, and silent sounds. The void explodes into paradox, into brightly colored contradictions and staccato-rhythmic inconsistencies and the unshakable, irrevocable feeling that you know everything and nothing. The void pulses, one-two, and everything begins to take shape, take form, take motion, take sight, take sound, and the world (but not the world at all) is yours to shape, to command.

You are the world, you are the stone and the earth and the rock and the soil and the firmament on which everything stands, and you feel it all.

You feel the beat of the world, one-two, and it’s like

gardening with his brother, shaping soil and preparing it for newly grown life, because he’s always been fascinated with creation, and he’s always wanted to

shape the world around him with powers granted by a game that thinks of him as a pawn, a game that’s given him the ability to shape and create the earth and soil on a scale grander than

his destiny, his fate, and he laughs, because in this dark future he’s learned just what his fate is supposed to be as his blade ends the life of the man he once called his leader, and he

growls and bats his brother’s hands away, always prickly, always separating himself from him, but he loves him dearly, he’s taught him everything he knows, and in his heart he

loves it, he loves the beat and rhythm of the earth beneath his feet, the weapon in his hands, and the falling of enemies around him, as he fights his way through these dark hordes, and tries to

salvage what he can of his ravaged sanity, but all he can think of is the beat, the beat, the beat as he realizes that this destiny is not what he wanted, but it’s what he has, so he kills his friends because he is

the boy who

has to

rise up…

Where once was the void, dark and silent, now is stone and earth and rock, the slow beating heart of creation, the beat that keeps everything in motion, everything alive, and as your body forms together, there’s no heart in you, no fleshy lump of muscle. Instead it’s stone and earth, beating, one-two, one-two, in the rhythm of creation and life and power, one-two, and as your eyes open you marvel at the sound of it, the beat, and in its tempo and cadence is understanding, because now it finally makes sense.

AWAKEN

You died a boy, pathetic and ignorant.

You awakened a god.

And the worlds will know your works.

Heir of Flow

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At first it’s without pain, without true feeling; it’s just a sense of a liquid flow of incorrectness in all the wrong places. Then the pain comes, and you feel it like you feel the cold of your planet, deep and heavy and dull. Then, finally, the realization comes, even as you stand in shock, the seconds slipping slowly by like the blood slipping out your throat and onto your clothes.

Your life flows from you like a river flows from the mountaintop, and as you fall backwards onto the stone table you try to laugh, but it chokes and gurgles through the thin, clean slit through your throat, and the deep heavy pain becomes high and sharp, like the high notes of a song, or the softest steps of the dance.

You hit the stone table, and all you see is snow as you writhe and twist and your fingers dance and scratch the impenetrable stone. You still can’t hear anything; everything has faded into a dull roar except for the staccato sound of your failed breaths and the subtle sound of the ebb and flow of your blood on the table. Your chest burns with lack of air, and your throat can’t decide how it wants to hurt, alternately burning and stabbing, and you finally realize the reality of it all; you are dying, alone, without your love or your brother or your family or your friends and you just want to laugh and cry, and nothing comes but choking gurgles and flowing blood.

Then you stop, and everything starts to fade away. You feel your muscles relax, feel your mind begin to let go, feel the pain fade until all that’s left is the snow falling on your face from above and the flow, the flow, the flow, and even all of that fades, until all that’s left is darkness and silence.

Then you hear the word, and everything changes.

ASCEND

There is no real sight, no real sound, no real sensation; it is more like memory, like thought made real. Thoughts flow around you like the river flows around a stone, and suddenly you’re moving, caught in the current of power and light and sound that is and isn’t real. Turquoise and teal, aquamarine and cornflower, green and blue and all the shades in-between, and the sound of it is immense and strong, the sound of the wind as you ride your bike or the river as it flows over your feet or the ocean as it breathes.

It’s the ebb and the flow, in and out, like breathing, and

suddenly she’s home, and her aunt is there, and they are dancing, flowing through movements with the grace of someone who was

always meant to fight, always meant to pulse with power and paint the world with water and the flow of power granted by a game that thought of her as

a swimmer in the sea, that’s all she is, just treading water as the power flows through her and out of her, just a tool who was always meant to

die, she was always meant to die, that’s what the dreams said, but here it was only a dream as she painted pictures for her friends and ignored the fate that would

define her, give her power, give her strength, give her purpose, even as minions fell and consorts were saved and the bigger picture was

revealed in all of its horrible, terrible glory, as sister faced brother, and she realizes that she won’t win; her brother has shown her that all she can be is

the girl who

has to

wake up…

Where there was once death and darkness and silence is now the ocean, unrestrained and powerful, the ebb and flow of reality rising and falling through your veins, and there’s no more blood flowing through you anymore, nothing but the ocean’s mighty depths, unceasing and unrelenting and unchained. Before you take your first breath you feel the flow of your life, restored and powerful, the same as before and so, so different, and you laugh, free and unrestrained as everything finally, finally makes sense.

AWAKEN

You died a girl, weak and fragile.

You awoke a goddess.

And the worlds will know your name.

[mutecebu]

Archaeopteryx, I like it! I'm trying to guess who Doubles and company are, and failing. Is Doubles John?

[Graven_Image]

Guardian of Caelondia

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I tried, Zia. I truly did.

I met Caelondia's First Guardian the day I joined the Mancers. He led 'em, masquerading as a harmless old man.

Saw through him on day one. Figured I was pretty special for spottin' it when no one else did. And in a way, I guess I was.

I confronted him about it. To his credit, he wasn't cagey about it. He was pretty matter-of-fact, all things considered. He told me things. Awful things.

Y'see, every world spinning gets a First Guardian of their very own. How influential said Guardian can get in the affairs of his people varies from planet to planet, though this one had decided on being more low-key than most. Didn't stop him from sticking his hands into quite a lot of the business of us "mere mortals".

He told me about the Game, and how I'd be one of the lucky few to play it. He also told me about the Calamity, and how I'd survive that, too.

How I'd outlive him.

He'd foreseen his death at the hands of the Calamity, and had prepared. He was grooming me to be his successor, a "Second Guardian," if you will. Gave me the ability to speak to people hundreds of miles away. Just as a bonus, he gave me a voice suitable for the task.

The Game normally devastates the world it's played by with meteors. The Calamity beat 'em to it, I guess, 'cause I haven't seen any meteors yet.

In the days following the devastation, I holed up in the Bastion, where the old man said the game would start. All I'd have to do is find the Cores around the city, conveniently made out of Cruxite just for the purpose. I'd find the Cores, bring 'em back... then use the Bastion to blow 'em all up and start the Game.

'Course, wise as he was, the Old Man hadn't figured on me being an old man by the time it all came about.

I had to rely on the Kid, guiding him with that special power the old man gave me. I regret to this day not being able to do anything myself short of stopping Zulf from beating the Bastion's monument into scrap metal.

Once we're in, It's a whole 'nother adventure. I'd let the Kid have just a little break between now and then if I could. I truly would.

So, here we are. Waiting on a Kid to finish the longest journey anyone's ever had, so he can bring back the last shard and start a whole new one.

Bein' a Guardian's a thankless job, Zia. Don't ever let anyone tell you different.

[crash826]

MUTANTMIRED (in which everyone is a mutant except that one guy who isn't)

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> Be the mutant blood.

Which one? There's eleven to choose from.

> ...just do one random one

Alright, cool. Talking to who?

> The not-mutant one?

Go for it.

-- ashcroftCyanide [AC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

AC: B3 < the cautious roamer approaches her friend
AC: B3 < she is guardedly happy to see him!
AC: B3 < she is guardedly happy about most things
CG: OH GOD YOU AGAIN.
CG: WHAT IS IT ABOUT MY PERSONALITY THAT MEANS THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO EVER FUCKING TALK TO ME ARE DOUCHES, RPERS, OBSESSED WITH QUADRANTS OR SOME FREAKISH COMBINATION OF THEM ALL, AND ALSO YOU'RE ALL HEMOANONYMOUS FOR SOME FREAKISH REASON.
CG: IN WHAT PREVIOUS LIFE DID I SIN SO GROTESQUELY TO GET THIS SORT OF EXISTENCE.
AC: B3 < the roamer is quietly offended (by both the roleplaying comment and the blood comment).
AC: B3 < she simply believes that blood color should not be factored into conversations
AC: B3 < rather, she believes that people should be judged on their intellect and ability.
AC: B3 < is that (she inquires rather coolly) too much to ask of her ornery friend?
CG: YEAH, YEAH
CG: I MEAN THE HEMOSPECTRUM IS SELF-EVIDENTLY BULLSHIT MADE UP WHEN WE STILL THOUGHT EATING SLIME WAS A GOOD IDEA AND THE SEADWELLERS GOT AHEAD BY NOT DROWNING WHEN EVERYONE FELL ASS-BACKWARDS INTO THE SEA
CG: BUT IF YOU THINK IT DOESN'T MATTER THEN WHY NOT JUST FUCKING TELL SOMEONE
CG: I MEAN WHAT IS THERE TO BE AFRAID OF
CG: I SHOW OFF THE EXACT-MIDDLE-OF-THE-GODDAMN-RAINBOW-JUICE FLOWING THROUGH MY VEINS AND EVERYTHING IS FANTUCKINGFASTIC
AC: B3 < the roamer sort of sees her friend's point
AC: B3 < but she nevertheless doesn't want to reveal her blood!
AC: B3 < for personal reasons (she explains).
CG: COOL, LET'S IGNORE EVERYTHING I JUST SAID AND MOVE ON.
AC: B3 < she agrees!
CG: OKAY, TODAY WE'RE TALKING ABOUT WHY YOU GO THROUGH THE LONG, FUCKING IDIOTIC PROCESS OF SAYING EVERYTHING IN THE THIRD PERSON
AC: B3 < the roamer does this for a very simple reason!
AC: B3 < she merely does not want to ever break character while in a play
AC: B3 < so she keeps herself in top condition by keeping her personal life out of her conversations!
AC: B3 < she thinks this is extraordinarily simple.
CG: BULL.
CG: SHIT.
AC: B3 < hey, whoa, she says; let's move this conversation onto a fun subject
AC: B3 < the roamer has been rehearsing a new part
AC: B3 < and her masterful skills as a thespian have reached an all-time high~
CG: THAT'S WONDERFUL FOR YOU. EXCUSE ME WHILE I WET MYSELF IN DELIGHT.
AC: B3 < the roamer is absolutely blown away by her friend's sense of humor
AC: B3 < she allows the raging guy a brief reprieve to dampen his undergarments as previously described!
CG: OH NO. YOU ARE NOT GETTING ME ROLEPLAYING.
CG: I WILL FLIP EVERY TABLE IN EVERY SHITTY CAFE EVER FOUNDED BEFORE YOU GET ME TO PRETEND TO BE A MASTER KNIGHT OR A STAR-CROSSED LOVER OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU'RE PRETENDING I AM.
AC: B3 < it's ACTING not roleplaying!!!
AC: B3 < ...she says.
CG: YEAH YEAH WHATEVER.
CG: OH GOD THE FUCKING SOBBING REDNOSED TOOL IS TROLLING ME, I CANNOT DEAL WITH HIM AND YOU AT THE SAME TIME.
CG: I AM JUST GOING TO GO WATCH SOME AMAZING MOVIES AND COMPLETELY IGNORE YOU.
AC: B3 < the roamer is okay with this.
AC: B3 < but she expects to get a real conversation later on!
AC: B3 < she bids her friend a cheerful adieu!
CG: PLEASE STOP TALKING.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] gave up trolling ashcroftCyanide [AC] --

[Archaeopteryx]

Archaeopteryx, I like it! I'm trying to guess who Doubles and company are, and failing. Is Doubles John?

Whoops. D: I gave them all their regular initials, except for Statuette, who is Jade, and Tarot for TT because I couldn't think of anything starting with L. Jacks is John, and Doubles is Dave. I'll edit that into the post, thanks for pointing it out :) I'm glad you liked it otherwise!