MSPA Fanfiction VII: End of Thread 6 Flash

[Redux]

I had an idea to write something even though I'm not much of a writer. I got inspired by listening to this and reading it's commentary, so here it is.

Jack: Save a life

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Your name is Jack Noir, and you have just ruthlessly murdered one of your subordinates. You're quite aware that you sent the droll to murder the girl, but for some reason you were very angry when he actually went through with it. Considering his lack of success in his previous orders, you would normally be very approving of his actions; but no, instead you were filled with anger. You aren't quite sure why, but you have a gut feeling about it. You didn't think it was possible, but it seems as though you were driven by this terrible, gut-wrenching, and disgusting emotion called love. You're positive that this isn't genuine love you're feeling, rather it was passed on by whatever dog-abomination that was prototyped by this girl. You're positive that this isn't genuine sadness you're feeling either, but you can't stop the emptiness that's swelling in your stomach right now. You wanted the girl dead, and you got it, so why is it that you want to beat yourself up over a justified desire of death?

The sky above is still acting funky, you suppose it's only a matter of time before the Scratch happens. You've overheard snippets of the girl's plan to restart the session and the thought doesn't sound too swell to you. Sure it will prevent the girl's death from happening, but in turn it will cause you to cease existing and you'd be terribly angry if that was a thing that stopped happening. Thankfully, you know much about what Skaia has to offer and you know what options for escape there are present to you. Even more thankful is that you know what you can do to bring the girl back to life. You retrieve your eldritch tentacles from its holding place and take the girl, you have places to be.

----

You've had to travel over half the goddamn planet in order to find this place, but here it is, the Quest Bed. You know this will bring her back to life because of what you experienced with the Windy Boy. You were sure that you killed him back on his oily, blue planet on his stupid looking bed, but you saw him back on the Battlefield for some reason. You presume it to be the work of this cold slab of rock that barely passes off as a bed. You set her down and put back your eldritch tentacles with the hope that you arrived in time before she keeled over for good.

----

You look up, the sky continues to pulse and convulse; there's only a matter of time before the Scratch thing finishes. Again, due to the knowledge you came in to some time before, you know where to go. You lift off from the platform and port away to a distant meteor in the veil, it's very distinctive because it has a fucking frog temple on it. Once inside you see a seed ready for planting and decide this to be the best course of action, you head inside and begin waiting for who knows how long.

I normally don't write fan fiction, I just wanted to get this idea off my head.

[kwisatzdan]

ArcFour, I made an account just to tell you how much I enjoy The Game and Those Who Play. It's my favorite Homestuck fanfiction and one of my favorite anything fanfiction. So I hope you're not disheartened by the recent updates that established title canon. It's been a while since you made a post and I was afraid you decided to call it quits.

I just want to encourage you to keep on writing; ignore or assimilate the new info into the stories, but please keep going. I can't wait to see the rest of them and I'm sure the other readers feel the same way.

[NeoDarklight]

I can't seem to get fanfiction.net's forums to be working quite right, so I'll post my challenge here-

Star Wars x Homestuck Crossover Challenge!

At least 2 characters from each universe, one of whom must be a villain, must be the central focus of the story. No OCs.

No restrictions on the setting or timeframe. AUs are acceptable.

No restrictions on themes.

Ships must have a reason. If something seems cracky, you'd better damn well explain things.

Unless the focus is pure humor, there must be personal growth for all characters involved.

[Kestral]

Hi all! I have not stopped writing Hex Ascending, and here is the next part to prove it. Links to earlier parts in my notes.
I am going to be getting an Ao3 soonish, and I want the version of Hex Ascending that I post there to have a good name. Anyone have any ideas?
This part has some swearing in it, so if that will offend you, don't read it.

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Be someone we haven’t met yet

Um, ok, you do that.

You look out your window and wish that you were somewhere else, anywhere else. Ok, not anywhere, you can think of quite a few places out of anywhere that you would prefer, but right now, out of your room seems like the best option. And the worst, fuck it.
The best, because you are running out of canned food and constantly having to re-barricade your door is getting tiresome. The worst because outside of your room there are people who want to kill you.
You have never got the idea of willfully ending someone’s life, but it appears the people around you do.
It all started when the leader of your former gang decided to drive all the adults out of town.
“They say use kids grow up best if adults don’t interfere, so why are there adults in this town? Let’s drive them out!” He declared. But Theon got it in his crazy head that the adults should stay and the gang attacked him. What were you supposed to do? Let him get killed? So yeah, you got up there and defied the gang too to save your boyfriend’s sorry ass. He wasn’t your boyfriend then, but after you two absconded, you decided to stop pretending to be “platonic”, whatever that means.
Apparently, you two are escaping tonight. Theon tells you how romantic it is, running away together in the wild, flying for your lives. You tell him it’s his god dam fault and you to will be lucky to survive it. He says D’: You just can’t stay mad at him. Ah, think of the fuckin’ devil, guess who’s messaging you.
enthusiasticExtraordinaire [EE] began pestering disheartenedWarrior [DW] at 16:30
EE: <3!!!!
DW: hello
EE: :)
DW: how are you? are you ok?
EE: yes of course i’m fine :) i wouldn’t have said :) if i wasn’t
EE: what about u?
DW: the barricade is holding up, but i’m running low on food.
EE: :0!! good thing we’re going tonight.
EE: :(
DW: WHAT’S WRONG!
DW: IS EVERYTHING STILL ALRIGHT
DW: WHERE ARE YOU
EE: calm down, i’m just :(
EE: i will miss this town
DW: WTF HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT EVERYONE HERE WANTS TO KILL YOU
EE: O_o
EE: no :(
EE: i just wish it didn’t have 2 b like this
DW: GOD SOMETIMES YOU ARE SO
DW: wait i need to calm down
DW: sorry. i wish it wasn’t like this as well
DW: so whats your plan
EE: it’s funny that i know u like me because u yell so much <3 :)
EE: it really shouldn’t b the case but I can tell u really care about me
DW: <3
EE: hehe :)
EE: the plan is at dusk i come over 2 ur house & shoot an arrow through ur window
EE: D-->
DW: where did you get an arrow? or a bow?
EE: I was hiding in the museum for a bit. shhh
EE: on the arrow is a string D ~-->
DW: i get the string, tied to the string is a thicker string...
EE: yes smartypants OuO <3
EE: i stand guard with my awesome bow while u pull up the rope & secure it
DW: why did this plan take so long to come up with
:EE: it didn’t
EE: i had 2 learn how 2 fire a bow
EE: :) D-->
DW: ok
EE: i will b cupid or whatever D--> <3
EE: u should change ur chumhandle, it’s depressing D:
DW: when we are NOT IN A FUCKING DEPRESSING SITUATION I WILL CHANGE IT ACCORDINGLY
DW: sorry
DW: what’s the deal with enthusiasticextraordinaire?
EE: i’m enthusiastic, & it would b cool 2 b an extraordinaire :)
DW: what does an extraordinaire even do?
EE: i dunno, b extraordinary?
DW: then you’re already there
EE: d’awwww!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3
EE: :D
EE: c u tonight
DW: don’t forget to bring lots of food
EE: got it :)
EE: bye <3
enthusiasticExtraordinaire [EE] ceased pestering disheartenedWarrior [DW]

Author Notes

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I am well aware that the romance between EE and DW is not well written at all. My excuse? They are twelve. I also have never written anything romantic. As usual, critic would be very appreciated.
Past parts of Hex Ascending part one part two

[homestuckisthebest]

Jus to say, um...
I'm writing one now, and its about 70 sides of A4 (just on one side; cant remember the word for just having the writing on one side.)
If you wants previews, jus let me know.

[NeoDarklight]

Jus to say, um...
I'm writing one now, and its about 70 sides of A4 (just on one side; cant remember the word for just having the writing on one side.)
If you wants previews, jus let me know.

Okay, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps a little clarification?

[SkaianRedeemer]

Okay, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps a little clarification?

He or she has a 70 page (presumably handwritten) story and would like to know if anyone would like a preview, probably because typing up 70 pages is a pain. I consider transcribing two pages to be a pain because my handwriting is a spitting worm drawn through graphite and ink from the realms of madness, so I sympathize.


As for the question they asked, I use the phrase "single-sided."

[homestuckisthebest]

thank you for clarification, SkaianRedeemer.
It wouldnt be a pain, so much as a big time consumer really.
I woulnt mind, but a preview of the story woul set it up for the rest if I ever decided to type the whole thing up.
Also a heads up, it nowhere near completion.

[Red Pen]

This is the last full chapter of Unhinged, but there will be a very short epilogue when I find the time to write it.

This story is also on AO3!

Previously, on Unhinged...
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Unhinged - part 21

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For the rest of the game, stories of how it all ended would fly through the Medium, growing more and more elaborate and inflated with each retelling. Carapaces and consorts would describe to each other the writhing black anvil thunderheads that towered over the skies of Derse, the arching bands of purple and red lightning that lanced across the sky, the ancient ocean eyes of the Elder Gods filling the void beyond as they gathered on the edges of reality to watch the show, while in the distance green fire crackled atop the spheres of the kernaltowers and ripped windows in the world to a vast and forgotten sun.

Bat Out Of Hell strapped screeching to her back, heart fluttering dangerously with caffeine and raw adrenaline, Rose Lalonde shot from the black smoke in a streaking, screaming comet. Trails of static danced across Jack Noir's carapace as he met her from above and the gleaming ivory Tecrix clashed with the blazing black around the Thorns of Oglogoth. His ring hissed and spit sparks of green plasma, and when wands and blade split, the green, red, and purple power snapped between them like a hellish Jacob's Ladder.

They were doing battle with sound and silhouettes, stark outlines flashing for a moment against the dark smoke as their blasts of lightning went roaring past. A conversation was scrolling rapidly past on the scorch-flecked screen of Rose's hubtopband.

EB: rose did you get all that?
EB: dave's back here in his real body, he says everything went ok.
TG: mission rescue the flighty broad is fucking accomplished
TG: both dreamselves safe and secured in an undisclosed location
TG: shit is locked down
TG: ill leave any further instructions to general egbert
EB: stand down, soldier, it's time for a tactical retreat.
EB: rose are you there?
TG: rose
TT: Busy at the moment.
TT: I'll get out as soon as I

Jack's Red Miles came snapping like some feral animal out of the smog, and the hubtopband exploded. Rose screamed in surprise and pain and tore the molten metal away from her face before it had a chance to scar or blind her, and let it fall to the city below. The scrape on her face that she'd gotten from that sandy beach what seemed a million years ago had reopened, and blood welled up against her cheek.

Ropes of red were surrounding her, lancing around her body, seeking her out and making her hair stand on end, and in that brief moment of surprise, the Sovereign Slayer materialized out the the darkness behind her and wrapped a tentacle around her neck.

The Tectrix flashed through the air and buried itself in the Bat Out of Hell, and his hand reached out and tore the jetpack from her back. Eldritch straps writhing, sword and jetpack went spiraling away into the clouds of smog, and now it was only the uneven beat of Jack's wings that held her aloft. Without missing a beat she raised her wands, and he moved to stop her; they grappled for a moment, scrabbling for an advantage in the darkness high above Derse, before at last his other tentacle managed to flash forward and constrict around her wrists, trapping her arms in front of her.

There they hung, for a while, at an impass.

Rose panted, pinned against Jack and smeared with sweat and soot and blood. She could hear him breathing just behind her; a desperate, laborious gasping that she felt, hot against the back of her neck.

"You want... to know something, Lalonde?" he rasped softly, and his hand reached out from somewhere behind her and touched the blood on her cheek. She winced, and jerked her face away. "Why I don't make promises I don't intend to keep?"

She was tightlipped and silent, waiting for his grasp to waver enough to let her tear free. The tentacle around her neck was slowly tightening, cutting off breath and circulation, and she struggled against it.

"It's because of sick, twisted broads like you. Hiding behind your politics and your stupid little hidden agendas and thinking just 'cause you smile sweet it means you aren't a monster on the inside. Least I have the decency to act like one."

"I was doing what I had to... to survive," Rose muttered through gritted teeth, fighting his weary grasp. The ring just inches from her face gave off a few more green sparks, and Jack shuddered and hissed painfully - Jade's prototyping was mere moments away. "Your lackeys... kidnapped me and forced me into this. This is war, Jack."

"I didn't force you into shit. Didn't force you to play the damn game and call death down on your planet and start this goddamn war, that was all you, and now a kingdom and a half is dead, one of my crew is dead. And yeah, that's on my shoulders. But it's your war."

The tentacle around her neck tightened, making her head spin and lights flash in her eyes. "I won't lose another one of my crew, and sure as hell not because you broke me bad enough to make me do it myself. I'm not the same kind of monster as you."

Blackness crept into the corners of her eyes. Her head lolled, and Jack simply drew back his tentacles and let her fall.

- - - - - - - - - -

The wind screamed shrilly past her, and her own blood left a trail in the air like glittering red specks of fire as Rose plummeted.

If she had to make a list of places she'd rather not pass out, Rose Lalonde had to admit that careening from an eldritch thunderhead toward the twisted streets of a dark kingdom a mile below would probably be at the top. Wake up, something at the back of her mind was shouting, but the darkness and stars were still dancing in her vision and she struggled to make her limbs respond. Wands, still in your hands. Use them. Catch yourself, cushion your fall, do something!

There was a rushing in her ears. Wind... caffeine-saturated blood... jetpack.

It was the roar of the Bat Out of Hell, but as she fumbled blindly to catch it, something caught her instead. Her momentum lurched abruptly, and she was flying forward and up. The beat of massive, feathery black wings, the smooth grip of a carapace's arms around her, (jack) and she struggled, squirmed, tried to pull away...

"Your Majesty," said a rough woman's voice, "you'll stop trying to fall to your death or I might just let you!"

Rose shut her eyes tightly, shook her head to try and clear her vision, and opened them again to focus slowly on a sturdy Prospitian soldier, face flecked in places with the shale oil she'd hastily tried to wipe away. "Sorry, ma'am," the pawn added quickly. "I wouldn't, ma'am. I really wouldn't let you fall, I swear."

"We'll of course she's struggling, Pariah," said a deep voice from below. "Squawk. We have not been properly introduced."

Rose looked down and realized that she was riding on the back of a massive winged-chessman, a bishop cloned for the battlefield. She and the white pawn clinging to the place where his cloak met the feather ruff of his neck. One of the pawn's arms was wrapped around Rose's torso to keep her from falling, and in the crook of the other was the Bat Out of Hell, still roaring and spitting smoke and fire, the Tectrix buried up to the hilt in its organic machinery. As Rose watched, the pawn wrenched the sword out and let the ruined jetpack spiral away into the void beyond Derse.

"Pariah," the pawn stated sharply, attempting a rough salute with the hand holding the Tectrix. "Warpainted Pariah, soldier of the resistance. This is Traitorous Bishop. We've been working for the Prince of Moon. Sent you an antidote one time, remember? You're one of us."

"Yes, I recall," Rose managed blankly.

"You good to fly now, your Majesty?" Pariah asked, adjusting her grip on the sword, eyes flickering to the black clouds above. "'Cause you should probably get out now. We'll take it from here."

The sluggish, dizzying darkness had cleared from Rose's mind by now, and she nodded. With a flick of her wands, she leapt from the Bishop's back and was soaring off toward the distant blue star that was Skaia, her planet, and her friends.

Bishop and Pariah continued on upward, through the base of the grimdark thunderhead, where Jack was waiting, wings spread, tentacles writhing, his own sleek black sword in hand, ring glowing with red and green fire.

Pariah swung the Tectrix of the Arbiter as the Slayer and Bishop collided. A flash of serene, hazy green, a world away from the spastic color of his sparking ring-

And both of the Sovereign Slayer's wings were severed cleanly from his back.

His mouth opened in a silent scream of rage, and he fell, and in a shockwave struck the street a mile below.

- - - - - - - - - -

Bishop and Pariah descended slowly and landed at the rim of an impact crater half the size of a city block, a clearing of warped cobbles and fallen architecture opened to the abyss of the Elder Gods above.

They were not the only ones. Half of Derse had gathered at the site, a few thousand black pawns thronging in the streets around the edges of the destruction to stare at a broken tyrant, twitching like an insect and bleeding from a dozen hairline cracks in his chitin. Whispers through the air rose like hissing steam, the usurper is weak, the usurper is dying, the usurper is dead. Pariah took a step forward, white sword seeming to glow in her oil-stained hands, and someone in the crowd called out: "Cut the ring off his finger!"

It began as a smattering of cheers, and grew to a tumultuous, triumphant chant. "Cut off the ring and kill the king! Cut off the ring and kill the king! Cut off the ring and kill the king!"

She reveled in it, raising her sword in the air, bathing in the cheers of her resistance of two thousand as she walked across the the barren rubble. Bishop followed a few steps behind, his frame massive and towering over the other onlookers, his beady eyes fixed on the Slayer. At last, she reached the broken, bleeding Noir, and bent down to seize his hand and wrench it roughly into the air.

Wild, furious applause greeted her. "First his ring!," she screamed. "And then his head!"

Her arm swung back, her sword poised, her other hand around a wrist oozing blood, muscles tensed, ready to cut the ring away and end it, and her eyes met those of a barely conscious Jack Noir. She whispered something, just for him, or maybe even just for her. Something about Prospit, about the fairy tales and the princes and princesses of the moon, about a place that didn't exist any more.

"This is for home."

The sword began its descent.

Behind her, the Bishop gave a startled "Squawk!!" and keeled over dead with a ragged slash across his throat.

Pariah whipped around just in time to see Draconian's switchblade bury itself in her heart. The Tectrix of the Arbitor clattered to the ground, and was a pen once more. The Draconian Dignitary set a foot atop it and shifted his weight, and it snapped easily in two.

Pariah met the tall Dersite's eyes with an outraged anger that quickly glazed over, and he pulled the knife unceremoniously from her chest and tossed her body aside. The resistance of two thousand roared like distant thunder.

Droll was bending over Jack's body, shaking him gently and babbling something frantic, and Draconian turned slowly, bloody switchblade outstretched, trying not to show his back to a crowd that surrounded him completely.

"None of you," he called, in a voice that was carrying and carefully calm, "Is going to come a step closer to Jack. You're going to turn around and go back to your homes, and pray to the Gods of the Furthest Ring we never decided to find out who you were. Your king isn't dead, and if anyone feels like amending that, I'll escort you to the afterlife to check."

The switchblade wavered. Draconian could have sworn the crowd was drawing closer somehow, closing in around them like a slipknot, a rabid entity with one mind. "Droll," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, and the Courtyard Droll looked up weakly.

"It's bad, Draconian. I think the ring makes him tougher than most people but they cut his wings off and he's bleeding real bad and he won't open his eyes and-"

"If they kill me," Draconian cut him off, watching the hostile mob, now so close that he could see the shine in their blank white eyes, "You end him. Make it fast and painless; don't let them get to him first. End him, and run."

Droll nodded sharply, looking blanched. Draconian stepped backwards as the mob pressed in, as scrabbling hands reached out to grasp him, to tear him away, to push him aside, to pull him apart. His knife flashed, blood spattered the broken street, someone screamed in pain, drew back, more pawns took their place, someone was throwing rocks, throwing bricks, the crowd roared, the knife flashed, the hands gripped from all sides and ripped and tore and the orb atop the final kernaltower-

- - - - - - - - - -

In the twisting weave of Derse's timeline, Jade's finger had squeezed the trigger an eon ago, but at last the bullet struck, and the pinata shattered, and the shards made ripples across the Medium and pulled another planet out of molten code.

- - - - - - - - - -

-burst into a glorious blaze of green.

It flooded Derse with light, made the pawns reel back and shield their eyes; shone blindingly into the Furthest Ring, where the Elder Gods glided quickly back into the darkness.

Draconain was half-kneeling on the ground in a suit torn to shreds and soaked in someone else's blood, one hand shading his eyes from the light of a green sun that filled the world. As it at last died away, a hand gripped his shoulder heavily, and a gruff voice that was animal and angry and buzzing with power but still, unmistakably Jack's, said, "Go away."

Draconian looked up, and saw nothing but a burning green hole in the universe where the Slayer should have been. "You and Droll both," Jack hissed. "Go back to the palace and stay out of my sight. You don't want to be here right now."

"Jack?" said Draconian, staring at the flickering, mind-bending shape.

"That 'go away' was an order, pawn," he said with a smirk in his voice, echoing his own words from a lifetime ago, when they'd found him hidden away in his office.

"Don't destroy Derse," Draconian said automatically. "Don't irreparably wreck the city and don't kill anyone who wasn't in the mob. You've still got a kingdom to run, you know."

"Yes, Draconian," Jack growled, and gave him a short shove in the direction of the palace. "Go."

Draconian turned and went, and after a few steps Droll caught up with him, scurrying along to match the tall Dersite's longer strides. Around them, the crowd screamed and fled, and the two of them walked through a channel parted in an ocean of hazy green fire.

- - - - - - - - - -

John met up with Rose at the halfway point, the ectobiology labs in the Veil, grinning from ear to ear and overflowing with questions. They sat side by side on a bare metal roof at the top of an abandoned cloning facility, and watched the distant fireworks on Derse explode in burst of green. Rose munched on a pack of Gushers to restore her health vital and heal her face, and she spoke on and on about her time on Derse; as hostage, as Archagent, as betrayer...

"I've been thinking about it," she commented, as she pulled apart yet another packet of Gushers. "And I believe I've figured out why Jack and I fell into the roles we did so... easily, I suppose. When I was little I'd sit my cat Jaspers on the couch and play at psychoanalyzing him. Pretend he was telling me his secrets, that kind of thing. And Jack was prototyped with Jaspers. So maybe deep down, we both remembered being that little girl and her cat, pretending to be a therapist." She trailed off softly, and John caught the look in her eyes.

"You feel pretty bad about it, huh?"

"A little. Maybe I'm just concerned about what it says about me as a person, that my first instinct was to lie and manipulate and tear someone down."

John shrugged, and stole a Gusher from the open package in her hands. "I think it probably says you're way smart." He grinned at her. "Plus, the feeling bad means you're a good person after all. You know, waaaaay deep down past all the psycho crazy awesome."

"John," she sighed, a small smile threatening to creep into the corners of her mouth.

"No, really! You're a bamf! They could make a movie about you, and Dave would be played by Shia Labeouf because screw Dave, it's all about the leading lady."

The smile had broken out across her face now, against her will and beyond her power, and John seemed satisfied that he'd done all he could. "Come on, speaking of Shia- sorry, DAVE, he's really gonna wanna see you up and about. And Jade too, she's in the medium now, and you will not BELIEVE how cool her planet is! That was totally a pun, you'll get it later. And now that Jack's super powerful we'll have to alchemize some new weapons..."

The two of them wandered off toward the transportilizers deep within the empty lab, John talking a mile a minute, Rose sauntering along beside him, happy, for once, to be in a place and with a person where she didn't have to be anyone but Rose Lalonde.

The fireworks on Derse made starbursts of green sunlight. Dave and Rose's dreamselves slept peacefully in the cots of two fallen soldiers.

The game went on.

[Aldaris]

Man, Unhinged has been quite the ride, well deserved kudos for that.

[SkaianRedeemer]

Congrats, Red Pen! One of the fandom's best works. And I hope to see the epilogue when you've got it.

[Megafire]

Great ending Red Pen.

Loved the whole thing.

[mutecebu]

Congratulations, Red Pen! Weee, internet party!

[MTG]

sorry for the delay, but First Intermission is done!
Feferi is our main character for only for this part of the Act.
the next is going to take a while to finish, so i got ton of work to do. sigh.

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First intermission begins

In a room with bunch of ponies and jewelries and pink (lots of it). There a girl troll inside those weird thingy (still didn't get the name.) she wears a tiara with a pieces symbol on the center, black tube top with another pieces symbol but magenta colored, colorful skirt and jewelries. Your name is Feferi Peixes; you get -EXICIT-ED! Easily and your room creep me a little… you also a royal seaweller high blood, the empress to be! The royal seaweller starts to wake up from her royal beauty nap. She yawn and stretch, but she stop when she saw a message on her computer/laptop. She changed her clothes (because the weird thingy have slime eww) and saw her message. It's from your good friend twinArmageddons.

TA: Hey CC, iimwonderiingiif we can hang out twogether.

CC: S)(ore, t)(at will be -Excited!

Glubglub!

Feferi looks really excited to this person like a dog is excited to see it owner. But then there's another message popped up on her screen. It's from CaligulasAquarium.

CA: hey fefim just wwonderin if wwe can hangout you knoww alone

You about to response, but there's a knock on your door. I wonder who that is.

There's a boy with a bubble on his head. He have two small horns on both side of his head, a red and blue shade, a black tee with a yellow colored Gemini symbol and black shoe on the left and the white on the right ( or maybe his foot). This troll's name is Sollux Captor, we don't know much about him right now, but all I know is he's a computer freak.

Sollux: 2up.

Feferi: Sollux! You made it!

Glub38D.

The two trolls are outside of Feferi's hive and you know, hanging was carrying your trident at the time in case they're under attack or feed your lusus, Gl'bgolyb.

Feferi: So w)(y you want to )(ang out, Sollux?

Sollux: oh, iim ju2t bored iin my hiive.

Sollux: but ii came here two a2k you a que2tiion.

Feferi: Ok, w)(at is it?

The troll did a deep breath and his gray face glow to yellow.

Sollux: wiill you be my m...

But then a blast of some beam is approving to Sollux and Feferi. Luckily, they dodge the beam just in time.

Feferi:W)(at was t)(at?

The person who blasts them came out from his hiding. He has two zigzag horns on his head and also a wavy purple highlight on his hair. He's wearing black glasses, light blue and blue scarf, black sweater with a purple colored Aquarius symbol on it, a large purple cape, and light blue and blue pants and finally blue and purple sneakers.

Sollux: eriidan! what wa2 that for?

Eridan: to get you awwavve from my wwoman sol

Feferi: W)(at t)(e )(eck, -Eridan! we was just )(anging out.

Eridan: im sorry fef but i don't wwant you to han out wwith a landwwhaleer

Eridan shoot his rifle at Sollux, but he dodging it with no problem. Eridan starts to get angry for missing his target, so he starts to shoot multiple times everywhere. His plan work, he hit his target by the foot. But also his plan almost went backfire from almost hit Feferi. Sollux is in agony, but he can take the pain. He really wants to fight back, but there are chances he will pop his bubble. Feferi starts to get angry at Eridan.

Feferi: Stop -Eridan! i don't want you to )(urt Sollux no more!

But he didn't listen and continue shooting, she have no choice but to stop him. She throws her trident at Eridan and hit her mark. He drops his rifle and the rifle fall to a rock. He then turns to Feferi who looks mad at him.

Eridan: wwhatwwas that for fef

Without noticing, Sollux swims for Eridan's rifle. When Eridan saw him swimming for it his weapon, he too swims for it (but he much faster.)

Feferi: O)( no!

All together , the two trolls swims for Eridan's rifle. When they finally reach to the rifle, Eridan about to pick up his weapon, but Sollux punch him and starts fighting. Landweller vs. seaweller, fighting for the weapon. Feferi just watches them and don't know what to do next. If she keep standing and watch, someone will get hurt. She have no choice but to join the fight (which is the dumbest idea ever). She swims to the two-some fight and grab her trident.

Feferi: Stop t)(is now!

But without noticing, Sollux accidentally pull the trigger and a flash of light blast up to the Alternian sky. The three are blind from the light, Sollux scream in agony while Eridan try to rub his eyes. But Feferi isn't so lucky, she immediately move out from the light and hit herself from the sharp rocks. The hit knock herself out cold and slowly drown to the dark part of the Alternian sea. When the light starts tofade away, Eridan and Sollux's sights are coming realize that Feferi gone missing. They look around and shout her name, but no luck. She's long gone.

?: wake up, Empress~

Feferi finally opens her eyes, but can't see clearly. She thought it's her lusussince all she can see is white. But it isn't, it have a female body but made a bloody smile. The body have magenta colored stuff on its teeth. Feferi realize that the magenta stuff is her blood, the monster bite her in the wrist.

?: your blood it's delicious!~

The monster about to bite Feferi again, But she dodge it but was in pain. She holds her wound while dodging the monster's attack and holding her weapon. Feferi keeps dodging and dodging until she starts to get tired.

?: I have you now!~

Uh oh, what will Feferi going to do? When the monster is getting closer, she doesn't want to die, not like this… the only thing she can do is: shout it to stop.

Feferi:I order you to stop, now!

But suddenly, her tiara grow magenta and turn to a flash of magenta. The monster start starts to scream in agony and flies is relief that the monster is gone; but then she starts to fall.

Feferi: A)()()()(!

She really don't want to die, she starts to cry in light magenta. If she dies, she'll never going to see her friends again, she going to lose everything. Suddenly, Feferi hear splashing noises. It sounds like the ocean. She opens her eyes and sees an ocean coming at her. And then… splash! She hit the water hard. You know, hitting the water hard is like throwing yourself at a car, trust me, I try it and its hurt… the water is icy cold, but Feferi will able to take the temperature. The water is also dark and dirty, she won't able to see. She swims up so she can go to the surface. But she stop when something approving her. Oh no, it's blades! Get out of the way, Feferi! Luckily she dodges it just in time. She say what the glub (haha funny).she look at the blades and look at it. It's going around and around and the blades looks like its connected to something. Is it a ship? She finally swims up to the surface and sees what it is.

Feferi: O)(! it is a s)(ip!

But the ship looks too small to be a ship. But that not the main problem, the main problem is where the glubin world you in? The sky is getting dark and then light starts to flash out in the dark. She turns and can't believe what new world you just enter, Feferi's adventure begins.

First Intermission ended

[Atarlost]

The Game, and Those Who Cheat

Rogue of Light

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Is it worth it, Rogue of Light?

Sometimes you're not sure. Sometimes you doubt. The Thief may take hope in breaking the game, but you're not so lucky.

Sometimes you're all to sure. It's not worth it. You've been stripped of everything. Your humanity, your family, your future. Only defiance remains.
There are fates worse than death. Not having died you can't be sure whether you're living one, but you have your suspicions. You'll know for sure soon enough.

The Queen is no fool. She's come to stop you, to use the plan of escape you have crafted for herself. Someone must stay behind to delay her. You make the only choice you can. You are the rogue and her luck has just run out, but you're not going to live to reap the benefits.

You see the Queen in infra red with your prosthetic eye. You lift your prosthetic arm to reveal a concealed shotgun. The Queen rounds the corner and you fire. The Queen is no fool. She staggers backwards but her armor stops the flechettes. She lifts her third arm, the result of a prototyping mishap. You aren't armored. Blood pools in your lungs, but she's not lucky enough to kill you quickly and you're not lucky enough to die quickly. You reach out and crush her ring in a titanium fist. As she cradles her maimed hand you put your fist through her exoskeleton sending shards of chitin through her thoracic cavity. You crumple to the ground and choke on your own blood.

You wake. You have succeeded in this much at least: that your fellow dreamers in purple are still complete even though Derse is no more. You are the Rogue of Light and they're lucky to have you. Lucky to have your connections. Lucky to have your arsenal at their disposal. Lucky to have the benefit of your cybernetic eye. And miserable as being turned into a cyborg after a crippling brain injury is you now can say it's slightly better than death.

notes:

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This goes along with the other Those Who Cheat I wrote. I decided I wanted this character to be the anti-Vriska. The injuries are similar, and they're both intended to play out as not quite sociopaths, but where Vriska's arrogance is in her luck and her Flarping experience the Rogue's arrogance is that she can break the game, a trait she takes from the other canonical light player. From those parallels comes the decision that she should be a light player.

[draconicAlgorithm]

A little drabble for the new flash, because I like blood and imagery. I haven't done any update responses in a long time, too.

Crimson and Purple

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The steady drip of blood from the severed head under your arm strikes a staccato on the pavement as you float. Plip, plop, plip, plop, it's somehow precise, like a beat, and you feel like you could rap to it. More blood soaks into the Derse pajama things you're wearing, leaving behind a cloying stickiness on your side, but it's easier to ignore that. It's just a feeling you can push away, not an echoing tattoo that fills your ears.

The Dersites are silent. You know they're following you past the amethyst towers and through the violet streets—fuck, you can see them, hordes of them, not talking or laughing or even acting disgusted by the head you're carrying. Their faces have no expression, just a staring, wide-eyed countenance.

You finally reach your destination with the head still dripping and the crowd still silent. It's easier than you expected to pull the flagpole from its base, and you lift it high. That, finally, catches their attentions. The expressions of the Dersites changes a little in shock and awe, like they think you're raising the pole to rally them to fight or something, and you wonder how they'll react to what you're about to do next.

You slice the flag from the pole, so quick that, to the audience, it probably looked like it fell off on its own. There is a collective gasp. It's almost deafening, after near silence and from the sheer number of Dersites, but you aren't done yet. You lower the tip of the now-flagless staff, take the head you've been carrying all along, and pierce it straight through with the staff. It gives a wet shlick as it punctures the hard carapace on the top of the head, and more blood splatters your shirt and the ground, bright crimson against the purple. You think it's a color that suits you a little better, anyway.

You pull out your informal declaration of war and skewer that as well. You can't help a smug smirk as you fit the pole back in place, blood dripping down from the head and coating your hands. The words are succinct. Perfect for the occasion, in your own opinion. You can see them as you float upwards, bright orange and vibrant.

The Prince is awake. Your shit is wrecked.

[Red Pen]

Well this is it, the wrapping up of the last few plot threads and the end of an experiment in crackfic taken seriously. It's been more than a year since I started this thing, and it's been a lot of fun.

This story is also on AO3!

Previously on Unhinged...
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Unhinged - epilogue

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The last Derse-to-Earth shuttle was leaving. A low roar of engines filled the dark sky, and over it a frantic crowd shouted to be heard, begging to be let on board, one more seat, please, for a child, a lover, a friend who'd just barely escaped the slaughter of the mob that had attacked the Slayer. Uniformed police and lesser agents stood stiffly in front of the boarding ramp. No tickets, no passage. There's not enough room for you all. Last call for passengers. There will be no more shuttles. No tickets, no passage.

At the back, the crowd began to part, murmurs of fear and disgust and confusion rising as they stepped aside to let someone through. She stumbled along, a lone white pawn in a sea of black, blood still drying stickily down her front, heaving the massive, limp form of a genetically engineered bishop along via one wing stretched over her shoulders. As she reached the landing ramp, the guards moved to block her path.

"This shuttle is leaving, ma'am-"

"Tickets," the pawn named Pariah spat.

They watched as she pulled from her pocket two bloody and dog-eared tickets to wave in their faces - fallen from the pocket of Draconain's suit as he fought off the mob, and left behind on the pavement next to the soldier he thought he'd killed. "We've got tickets," she repeated. "Official ones. Got the royal seal on them and everything. We're getting on this shuttle. You gonna stop us?"

The guards huddled for a moment, conferred with each other.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," one of the policemen said at last, as they all turned back to her, and Pariah scowled at him.

"What do you mean, sorry? They're official! The shuttle's still here! Let us on!"

"I mean, I'm sorry, but if you board this shuttle it will have to be without your friend."

She gripped the Bishop tightly, eyes going wide and panicky. "He's coming with me! We have two tickets! He has to come with me!"

"Ma'am," the policeman explained, softly, sympathetically, "Everyone wants off Derse. Those tickets are precious commodities. We've got no room for the dead."

She stared blankly at the policeman. She looked to the Bishop's body, his wing resting on her shoulder, his throat slashed, his blank eyes open and staring. She looked back to the policeman. "I don't... I don't understand."

"These shuttles can only carry so many," the Dersite said, as gently as he could. He gestured to the crowd pressing around. "I can't let him on, when there's live people who could take his seat instead."

She nodded, slowly, and let the Bishop's wing slide off her shoulders.

"Do you still want to board?"

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am, you have to decide now, the shuttle is leaving."

"Do you still want to board?"

"I..." Pariah shook her head. "I have..." A friend to bury. A sleeping prince and princess to guard. A tyrant to overthrow. Only cowards ran away.

The pawn bent down and took the Bishop's weight again, and she started dragging him away. She tossed the tickets into the crowd behind her.


- - - - - - - - - -


Two battered Dersites sat together, somber, in some dark, forgotten room in a dark, forgotten corner of a dark, forgotten palace. Both scratched and bruised, Droll's hat long lost, Draconian's suit bloodstained and shredded beyond repair. For once, it didn't occur to either of them to do something about it.

They sat at a folding card-table hastily decorated with Scotch tape and crumpled red streamers, and passed a wine bottle of some expensive vintage back and forth to refill their glasses. They talked about playing jazz at the back of a bar. About plotting and planning together and looking forward to the day they finally ran this game. About the Hegemonic Brute, who was strong and loyal and a hopeless romantic, who played the bass and whose favorite color was red. And they toasted to his memory, and drank to forget.

The door creaked open. With a tiny clink, the queen's ring was tossed onto the tabletop, rolled for a moment, and came to a rest in front of Draconian.

Jack Noir was standing in the doorway, unprototyped and limbs all present and accounted for, looking utterly grim and exhausted. Draconian glanced up at him dispassionately, and across the table from him, Droll made a small, unidentifiable noise in the back of his throat and said softly, "hey boss..."

"Put it on," said Jack, tired eyes fixed on Draconian.

The Dignitary looked flatly from Jack to the ring.

"Go on. Do it, it's right there. You'd be prototyped before I could stop you. Put it on."

Draconian picked it up. All four tiny prototyping orbs were glowing with a soft white light, but the ring was no longer sparking or buzzing with power. It felt cool against his hand, and he considered for a moment. Considered slipping it on his finger, becoming that thing of raw power he'd seen envelop Jack, considered killing the Slayer and taking over as king and running this place logically for once, never having to deal with the rest of Jack's stupid lackeys again...

He put it back down on the table where Jack had tossed it. "Don't be an idiot. All that green would clash horribly with every outfit I own."

Jack stared at him for a moment.

And started to laugh.

And walked over, still laughing, to sit down at the table in the folding chair Droll had most optimistically set up for him. He rested his elbows on the table and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, and the laughter turned slowly to a shuddering that wasn't quite crying. Droll and Draconian exchanged looks over his head, Droll's worried and questioning, Draconian's carefully blank, but conveying the same.

"Are you okay?" Droll asked, moving hesitantly to pat Jack on the back. Draconian absentmindedly reached out and caught his wrist before it could make contact.

"I'm an idiot," Jack muttered, voice muffled by his hands. "I'm a goddamn idiot. I just had to make sure."

"I don't want you dead, Jack," Draconian assured him flatly. "I never did, and yes, you were an idiot for believing it."

"Made so much sense when she said it," Jack said, more to himself than to Draconian. "All sounded so right."

"Of course it made sense; you're half-dead from exhaustion. Although the part about most of the kingdom wanting to kill you seems pretty justified." Draconian released Droll's wrist with a warning look, and ran a finger idly across the rim of his wineglass. "But we already knew that, we just underestimated it. We'll know to plan for it now."

"To hell with your damn plans." Jack reached across the table abruptly. For a split second something in Draconian's chest twisted uneasily as he assumed Jack was going for the ring, but a moment later the Slayer's hand closed over the wine, and he picked it up and took a swig straight from the bottle. "God it's good to have my left arm back. You know how hard it is to do paperwork when you're missing your dominant hand? It ain't a walk in the park, I'll tell you that."

"That wine was incredibly expensive," Draconian said, without much hope of Jack actually listening.

"Fit for your king then," said Jack, taking another swig. He raised the bottle shakily and grinned, more drunk on exhaustion than alcohol. "So, here's to whatever we're celebrating!"

"Hegemonic!" Droll supplied helpfully. "It's the memorial for him, remember? I put up all the streamers!"

"And they're hideous," said Jack. "To the Hegemonic Brute. He had..." his grin widened, and he waved the bottle around. "He had a... no, he... he had a good head on his shoulders! Wait no... he never could keep his head!"

"Jaaaaaack!" Droll giggled, while Draconian rolled his eyes.

"Is that really appropriate?"

"It's exactly as appropriate as the streamers. I didn't set the mood in here. Wait... I've got one... he knew how to get ahead in-"

"Are you even upset?" Draconian snapped coldly. "He's dead."

The grin slid slowly off Jack's face, and he set the bottle down and leaned back in his chair. "Why should I be? Just another pawn. He knew what he was getting into. He knew..." He rubbed his eyes again, shoulders slumping. "We all knew what we were getting into. All could've walked away, after I killed her."

"But we didn't," Droll said simply.

"Because you're idiots too," Jack mumbled. "Turns out we're all idiots. Idiots with a kingdom. Aughtta make that the official motto of Derse. And this... mourning, this memorial... this could only be the work of idiots." He groped for the bottle, and Draconian surreptitiously slid it out of his reach. "Not like he's dead forever. Just somewhere else."

Droll made a squeaky little "I knew it" noise.

"Did you forget who we are?" Jack asked, sounding almost amused. "We'll be back next session. We come back every session."

"I don't think that counts though," said Droll. "Since we don't remember stuff from session to session. It's a different us." He thought for a moment. "Unless it's just me that doesn't remember stuff. You'd tell me if it was just me, right?"

"It's not just you," Draconian said with an irritated sigh.

"And thank god for that," Jack added. "All those damn lacy dresses I get to forget about."

He slid further down into his seat, started leaning dangerously sideways, and Draconian quickly caught him by the shoulder before he could fall out of his chair. Predictably, Jack tried to jerk away, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "Got a nice buzz from that last prototyping," Jack muttered dizzily. "Prob'ly wearing off by now..."

"So now we're right back where we started," said Draconian.

"I'm not coming up with any plans this time," Droll informed them seriously. "You guys really shouldn't have let me do the last one, I'm not the plan guy."

"Think," slurred Jack, leaning into Draconian's supporting arm, "Think I'm gonna go to bed now. Sleep for a year. Misplaced my ring, guess somebody else gets to be king for a while. Whoops. Lucky them."

Draconian picked up the queen's ring again and slid it into his pocket. "I'm sure your kingdom will still be here when you wake up."

"Ha, hey, I got another one... his head was... heads were rolling... no, that was terrible... that was barely even a pun..."

"Let's get you to bed, Jack," said Draconian, standing up and supporting Jack's weight.

"Dra... Draconian. Pawn. Draconian."

"Yes Jack?"

"If you get me a therapist while I'm out, I'll kill you."

Thanks for reading.

[Katrika]

It's been a long time coming, but I've finished the fourth - and possibly final - part of my Life and Death of the Demoness series. I hope you all enjoy it!

Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori

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Before we come to know her, a young girl sits poised to make a choice. She can listen to her friend, and let her species and her planet fade away and become forgotten. She can make a deal with the devil, and preserve - as far she knows - the legacy of what she loves.

Put like that, it's not much of a choice at all.

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Fic is hosted on ao3.

[Dmatix]

It's been a long time coming, but I've finished the fourth - and possibly final - part of my Life and Death of the Demoness series. I hope you all enjoy it!

Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori

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Before we come to know her, a young girl sits poised to make a choice. She can listen to her friend, and let her species and her planet fade away become forgotten. She can make a deal with the devil, and preserve - as far she knows - the legacy of what she loves.

Put like that, it's not much of a choice at all.

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Fic is hosted on ao3.

Once again, top notch stuff. The prose is beautiful, and if this is the final part, it's a damn good one.

[Katrika]

I worry that my prose gets a little purple at times, but it seems to work...

[Dmatix]

I worry that my prose gets a little purple at times, but it seems to work...

I enjoy fancy prose, and it works for this kind of story. I wouldn't worry about it.

[Decker]

Sorry I haven't been around much. Full time job is taking up more and more of my time. Anyway, I have another Loaded Key fic for you guys.

"Life is tough for Tavros Nitram. He's been down on his luck after a nearly fatal run in with Russian bounty hunter Vriska Serket, and it's hard for a troll in a wheelchair to find work. He finds himself getting help from some unexpected sources. But with friends like these, who needs enemies?"

The Loaded Key: What Doesn't Kill You

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Link to fic on AO3

[childishGambino]

Oh hey these both got approved. Ignore this.

[homestuckisthebest]

I haven't a title for my fic as of yet, but here goes..
This is just a snippet of it, bear in mind...
Oh, and maybe some language in there too.

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Vriska jumps onto Gamzees back.
Vriska: " Hey Gamzee!"
Gamzee: "WoAh! Oh HeY VrIsKa, I WaS OuT GeTtIn SoMe MoThErFuCkIn' FaYgO On. I GoT SoMe SlImE ToO, BuT ThAt ShItS FoR LaTeR."
Vriska: " Cool! can I try some?"
Vriska flutters her eyelids at Gamzee.
Gamzee: " YeAh SuRe! I ThOuGhT YoU MiGhT WaNt SoMe, So I BrOuGhT ExTrA."
Vriska: " Thanks Gamzee! Oh, I can't wait!"
Vriska looks around, then leans in towards Gamzee.
Vriska: (whispers) " I think Tavros likes Nepeta, 8ut i'm not sure."
Gamzee: " ShIt! ReAlLy?"
Vriska: " Yeah! I heard Equius talking to Tav a8out it, and 8efor you got here, they were staring at each other. Red feeelings, methinks."
Gamzee: " HeH! AlL I GoTtA SaY Is ' GoOd LuCk TaVbRo', 'CaUse ShE's GoT KaRkAt On ThE ThInKpAn."

[mutecebu]

Sorry I haven't been around much. Full time job is taking up more and more of my time. Anyway, I have another Loaded Key fic for you guys.

"Life is tough for Tavros Nitram. He's been down on his luck after a nearly fatal run in with Russian bounty hunter Vriska Serket, and it's hard for a troll in a wheelchair to find work. He finds himself getting help from some unexpected sources. But with friends like these, who needs enemies?"

The Loaded Key: What Doesn't Kill You

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Link to fic on AO3

Decker, I love this! I think this may be my favorite "Vriska & Tavros" fic ever. You did a great job mixing problems, poetic justice, and catharsis for both characters into one story.