"And this is you as a pirate," said Vriska. It was, indeed, a drawing of John as a pirate, and fairly well-done. "I used to be pretty terrible at drawing but I just kept at it and now I can do what you see before you!"

"You sure do like the color blue," said John. Every single drawing she'd had in her notebook was done entirely in shades of blue, with occasional splashes of red.

"Every artist needs a gimmick," she said authoritatively.

John nodded, "I suppose so. If you know what to look for, you can always tell the famous ones apart, even if it's a lesser known piece." Still perusing the document, he noticed something odd. It was dated last year.

Vriska kissed him again. "That's enough art, let's get out of here," she said.

"Okay," he said, having forgotten what he was thinking.

"SO. What the motherfuck. ARE WE GOING TO DO?" said Gamzee, spazzing out in the middle of the auditorium.

"Well, I know what I'm going to do," said Karkat. Said. Everyone stared in shocked silence as he strode out of the room.

Everyone looked to Dave. "Well?" said Rose.

Dave shrugged. "Nothing we can do, it's over."

"But we put so much time and shit into this!" shouted Mituna; everyone in his immediate vicinity shielded themselves.

Dave shrugged. "Don't you even care?" scoffed Kanaya. "This was your thing from the beginning! You got us all invested in your project!" She reddened. "You made me sing in front of people!"

"And you made me correct my speech impediment!" Eridan shouted, shaking his fist.

"You two act like that was a bad thing," Dave pointed out. "I helped you improve. Besides, I just wanted to see if I could do it. If it's any consolation I think this would have been pretty cool." He sat back down and opened up another apple juice. He was clearly done.

"So we're not going to sing?" Nepeta asked Equius. He lifted her up onto his shoulders. "We can sing at home," he rumbled.

"I wanted to be the bishop," Gamzee muttered, looking dejected.

"I'll call my mom," Feferi said, sounding panicked. "I know she'll help…." Of course deep down, she knew her mother was not a very helpful person, but she pulled out her little pink phone anyway, and stalked off into the corner, trembling slightly.

"Well I'm good," said Sollux with uncharacteristic glee, "just got an email from Industrial Light & Magic. Deuces," he said, flashing the peace sign as he pulled out his tablet and all but skipped out the side exit. Mituna followed hurriedly.

"What do we do with all this stuff?" asked Jade, pulling off her tricorne hat. "Should we give back to Kanaya?"

"Keep it," she said, putting on her walking shoes but not bothering to go change her clothes. "Rose, we have to go save John before the spider gets her fangs into him," she dragged Rose away by her hand, and the other girl sighed.

"Wait! He's my brother after all!" Jade shouted as she ran after them.

"So we're still getting paid right?" said the leader of the band.

In the ensuing commotion, Dave slipped out of the auditorium, alone.

It wasn't so bad, Dave thought. Sure, the production was canceled, but maybe he could try again. If he felt like it. Certainly not right now, or he'd come across as desperate. The event had been put together competently, if rather hurriedly and in an unorthodox manner. Surely they'd let him try again, with a less 'offensive' play. Would he be able to intimidate the principle again though? And Kankri had probably warned him against Dave Strider. Maybe he could get someone else to do it, and lead the project in secret. John or someone. Yes, John could be the director of the production, but Dave would be the director of him—

It was only then that he noticed the white car with tinted windows driving next to him, moving with suspicious slowness. Dave walked faster and it accelerated. Dave slowed down and it did as well. Dave stopped and the back window rolled down. John's smiling face grinned out at him—no, this guy had green eyes and actually seemed to actually run a comb through his hair once in a while.

"Hello old sport! Would you like a ride?"

"Hell naw," said Dave.

"I think it would be in your best interests," said the boy. Dave hesitated. He didn't seem to exude any menace. "It concerns the matter of your little production. Les Mis, correct?"

Damn. It all fell onto Dave at once, the actuality of losing his project so close to its completion, the first thing he'd ever felt really, truly ambitious about. He got into the car. The interior was the gaudiest possible green leather and mother-of-pearl decor. Only the rich had this little class, Dave thought. "Good evening," the guy didn't skip a beat and was already talking before Dave even sat down. The car took off at speed as they shook hands; he wore a pinky ring shaped like a grinning green skull. "You may call me Jake English, and you may also consider me a patron of the arts," he explained.

Dave nodded. "So what?"

Jake chuckled. "You can take that in the more archaic sense of the word, in that I in fact finance artistic works like some Renaissance era Dodge throwing florins at de Vinci, particularly theatre." Dave could feel him spelling it Britishly in his head. "I always considered myself a film buff, see, but my friends urged me to be more shall we say, cultured?" If this guy was uncultured Dave would hate to meet his friends. "So I took in a production of Phantom of the Opera down at the Grand Fiducia Theatre; a charming little place, have you heard of it?" Dave had, in fact. Or perhaps he hadn't, because there was no way to describe the absolute palace he was thinking of as 'a charming little place'. He simply gave an indeterminate half-nod.

"Well regardless, I was absolutely enamored of the artform ever since," Jake explained, "and when I heard of your ambitious efforts, I absolutely had to involve myself!"

"Well you're too late," said Dave. "The school shut us down. Any help you could have given us doesn't matter anymore."

Jake chuckled. "Are you quite sure of that? I don't think you understand exactly how wealthy I am." The car finally pulled to a stop. "How about instead of being the school's new drama club," said as the window rolled down, "you become my personal theatre troupe?" Just outside was an old movie theater that seemed to have recently been renovated, painted a cheerful buttercup yellow. The sign, newly fitted with copper and brass, read 'The Old Prospitian'. "I've been looking for someone to fill the slot, and what I heard from your school quite impressed me."

Dave was glad he was still wearing his shades, because he didn't want the bewilderment on his face to show. "What do I have to do?"

"Be as impressive as they say you are," said Jake. He leaned in conspiratorially. "And don't tell anyone about my involvement, eh old sport?"

It was now evening and John and Vriska were in a park, watching the sunset over the pond. They were seated on a rock, leaning into each other, arms linked. He smelled the rich scent of her hair. John was entirely uncertain of how they'd gotten there, or even what park it was, but he was happy. So what if he didn't recognize the hills on the horizon? They were beautiful. Or if he felt dizzy? Vriska was there to steady him. Or if people were looking at him funny? Vriska wasn't. Or if he tasted metal—actually that was probably bad.

She planted a tender kiss on his cheek. He chuckled and forgot his problems. Vriska whispered into his ear, low and soothing, as she walked her hand up his spine, spiderlike;

VRISKA

Perhaps I had a wicked childhood…

Perhaps I had a miserable youth…

But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past,

There must have been a moment of truth.

For here you are, sitting there, loving me,

Whether or not you should.

So somewhere in my youth, or childhood,

I must have done something good.

Nothing comes from nothing,

Nothing ever could,

So somewhere in my youth, or childhood,

I must have done something good.

She sighed contentedly, almost a purr, and fell silent. John nuzzled against her neck and took up the song.

JOHN

For here you are, sitting there, loving me, loving me,

Whether or not you should,

Vriska chuckled, doubting there was any reason for her to stay away from him, other than for his own safety of course;

VRISKA

So somewhere in my youth, or childhood,

I must have done something good.

JOHN & VRISKA

Nothing comes from nothing,

Nothing ever could.

So somewhere in my youth,

JOHN

(Hehehe) Or childhood,

VRISKA

I must have done something,

JOHN & VRISKA

Something good….

And for the first time that day, John initiated the kiss. And was promptly dragged off his feet by a pair of surprisingly strong arms. Surprisingly, that is, because the arms belonged to the rail-thin Kanaya and the quite petite Rose. "Oh my God, no!" Kanaya hissed, covering her mouth.

"What's wrong?" John chuckled, feeling light-headed.

"You are a mess John!" she barked.

Rose clarified. "You seem to have a great deal of blue lipstick smeared about your face and neck—Kanaya, what exactly is the problem?"

"She branded him is the problem!" shouted Kanaya, pointing to the mark on John's forehead. John chuckled.

"John, are you…are you high?" asked Jade, suddenly there and out of breath for some reason.

"Yes," John said, nodding vigorously, "high on love!"

Jade bent over, clutching her stomach. "That was soooo bad John! I think you just killed me."

John ignored her. "Where is Vriska?" He pushed himself up with his elbows.

"She took off after we pulled you away," said Rose, looking bored. "Kanaya chased her for a bit but…" she shrugged.

John squinted at her. "Hehe, good one! You guys just got here."

Rose nodded. "Yes, only just ten minutes ago."

John blinked. What?

"High on love," Kanaya muttered. "High on that…stuff she puts in her lipstick!" John blinked repeatedly…what?

Jade sighed and helped him up. "She left behind some stuff," she said, pulling out a sheaf of papers. "It looks like…she's been stalking you?" John shuffled through them. "That's…" he said, face falling. "Kind of awesome!"

Kankri found Karkat sitting in his chair once he got home. It was evening, nearly but not quite sunset. He was wearing his costume for the play that wouldn't be, a heavy velvet coat, wine-red, a navy blue waistcoat, and a golden-yellow scarf. He looked quite imposing. "What are you doing?" asked Kankri.

Karkat did not answer.

"Are you going to rage and scream and shout at me, like you always do?"

Karkat did not answer.

"Well I don't care," snapped Kankri. "You think I'm the only tiresome person in this household? You think you're such an angel? You think you're always right? WELL YOU FUCKING—" Kankri covered his mouth and turned away.

"Kankri, I know exactly what I am," said Karkat. Kankri shivered. "I'm a miserable angry shit-stain."

"Why aren't you shouting?"

"But you," Karkat continued, pointing at Kankri with his own yardstick, "don't recognize your own faults. You are, quite frankly, a—"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SHOUTING?!"

"I'm trying to preserve my voice," said Karkat. "For the show. It's only a week away."

"THE SH—" Kankri stopped himself. "The show is canceled. I'm sorry."

"No, it's just been moved," said Karkat. He stood up. "I thought long and hard about what to do to you. Honestly, I didn't figure it out until a few hours ago when I got some interesting news. But before that, I had all kinds of ideas. I thought I would scream and rage and yell, but that has never worked. Not on you, and not on anybody. And like I said, I need my voice. You can thank this play for one thing at least, it taught me restraint." He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I thought about taking you out behind the shed with Gamzee and busting your kneecaps with his baseball bat and a crowbar. But you're my brother," he said. "It would leave a bad taste in my mouth, no doubt." He popped his neck. "I thought about putting your stupid turtleneck—"

"It's the same turtleneck as yours," Kankri snapped, slapping off Karkat's hand. "Porrim made them the exact same cut and size and style. It's just that your turtleneck is black—"

"And yours is gaudy as shit," said Karkat with a nod. "Anyway I thought of doing that and going up to Porrim and saying 'hey I just realized that you're totally into me, wanna fuck?'" Kankri grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him back into the room, slamming Karkat against the far wall. He was torn between biting down on his own tongue and letting loose the steaming pile of vitriol building up in his stomach. He did neither, and he felt an awful pain in his throat.

"Oh please, she's practically family, how gross would that be?" Karkat rolled his eyes. "You need to let that shit out once in a while," he noted. "If you don't vent your problems, you're going to snap one day. It'll be epic. There'll be religious movements founded on the day you crack. No, what I am going to do," Karkat reached into his pocket and gave him a business card, "is invite you to the premiere." He patted Kankri on the back and left. "We won."

The card had an address and the name of a theater, and it said, for some reason, "the Lord English's Men."

Kankri felt numb. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He sat in his chair until the stars started to wink on. He crept out of his chair and slipped out the window onto the roof again. He stumbled as he clambered onto the peak. "I've never stumbled all my life," he mused. The stars loomed about like judging eyes. Words came to his lips, entirely unbidden;

KANKRI

I am reaching, but I fall,

And the stars are black, and cold,

As I stare into the void,

Of a world that cannot hold.

I'LL ESCAPE NOW FROM THAT WORLD!

FROM THE WORLD OF—

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU GO UP THERE!?" Karkat shouted from the backyard. "SERIOUSLY, YOU'RE GOING TO FALL!" Kankri stumbled, and he fell, rolling down the roof and into the swimming pool.

"JESUS CHRIST KANKRI," Karkat shouted, running towards him. He pulled his brother out of the water. "Shit, are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, I'm gonna call an ambulance—"

"SHUT UP FUCKASS," Kankri shouted in his ear.

"Fuckass? Really? What even is—" Kankri hooked his arms under Karkat's shoulder and dropped back into the pool, dragging him down with him.

Needless to say, the cast was jubilant about the new theater. It managed to be both cozy and grand, like some Renaissance palace just as Jake had implied. The seats were lined with red velvet and a crystal chandelier as big as Dave was hung from the ceiling. The projector room had been converted into a private box. None of them could find the door leading up to it.

Upon first entering, Gamzee sprayed a two liter bottle of orange Faygo on Dave (which he tolerated), Nepeta rode Equius around the theater like a horse, trying to make him charge people, and the Maryams hugged and squealed, a very un-Maryam act, and sang a little ditty, twin voices filling the air with jubilation;

KANAYA & PORRIM

A-shir-ra la-do-nai ki ga-oh ga-ah!
A-shir-ra la-do-nai ki ga-oh ga-ah!
Mi-cha-mo-cha ba-elim adonai!
Mi-ka-mo-cha ne-dar-ba-ko-desh!
Na-chi-tah v'-chas-d'-cha am zu ga-al-ta!

Na-chi-tah v'-chas-d'-cha am zu ga-al-ta!
A-shi-ra, a-shi-ra, A-shi-ra….

It made Dave think. The Prince of Egypt would be a fine production to direct. If he could get the damn rights….

"This," said Sollux, rubbing his chin, "is an even bigger piece of shit than the school auditorium. There's no way I can get this shit running by next Saturday. You'll have to push it back again."

Dave handed him a check. "This is your budget."

"I have a budget!?"

Rehearsals went swimmingly. Eridan, having been misled since the very beginning, took his character in a very different direction from what was considered 'canon,' playing him as a roguish Han Solo-type, but it was so well done that they had to leave it in, though Gamzee insisted that his legs be hidden at all times to give the illusion of shortness. "The song is called 'Little People'," he said. "HOW ELSE IS A TALL FUCKER LIKE YOU GONNA SING IT?!" Eridan shrank back and did as he asked.

With the money, Sollux and Mituna were able to produce an effects system that left the Industrial Light & Magic people begging for the twins to come work for them.

After much coercing, Kanaya allowed John and Vriska to continue dating, so long as she supervised. "I hope you're aware that she was drugging you with a mild neurotoxin," she said, glaring.

"Of course," said John. "I'm not stupid. She promised she'd never do it again!"

"Yeah Kanaya," Vriska said, flipping her hair. "Don't you trust my word?"

"No," she said flatly. Then she grabbed Vriska's head and scrubbed her mouth vigorously with a moist towelette.

During the week, Feferi and her girlfriends, who had taken to calling themselves 'Strider's Angels', patrolled the streets, handing out flyers. Meenah climbed onto the hood of a car and shouted into a megaphone, "Come and see the show so violent…"

"So sexy!" said Aranea, striking a pose next to her; the story-arc dealing with Aranea's coming to terms with her sensuality having been cut for time,

"And so edgy," Feferi shouted exuberantly, "That they banned it from our school!"

"So here's the deal," said Karkat, "he won't speak unless spoken to and he'll just mind his business and not judge anyone or anything. He'll just read his lines. He's basically a spare me."

"FUCK OFF ASSHOLE," said Kankri. "AS IF THEY NEEDED ANOTHER ONE OF YOU."

"Well technically yes," said Dave, "every member of the cast had an understudy except Karkat—"

"Because I'm so good they can't replace me," he said with a stiff nod.

"Shut up," said Dave. "But we can't just let you join unless do it now!"

"HUH?" Kankri muttered, just as the rest of the troupe leapt out from among the seats and sprayed him with cherry Faygo for a full ten minutes.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said, as Porrim wrapped a towel around him.

"Yes," she agreed, "now let's get you cleaned up, Enjolras 2."

The day before the play was set to premiere, the mayor's banner arrived. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" said Dave, at long last losing his cool. The damned thing was the length of a school bus. "FEFERI, IN WHAT UNIVERSE DOES THIS CONSTITUE A SMALL BANNER?" A few minutes later, a clown with a plastic arm showed up and started juggling campaign buttons while whistling The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Dave almost cried, but he was a real man, so he didn't.

The night of the premiere arrived. The seats filled. Dave peered out from behind the curtain, and was met with thunderous applause. Up in the private box, he could see a pale hand giving him a thumbs-up. It had a pinky ring with a grinning green skull. He took a deep breath. "Show time."

Author's note: I apologize if you thought we would actually see the show. That was clearly not the purpose of this exercise, but now if you read carefully, you know the proper way to write a fusion.

This is clearly a sequel hook. Once I build up my store of theater based humor, I'll do another story set in this universe. So many unanswered questions; why does Jake want to keep his identity secret? The fuck's wrong with Vriska? Can Dave sing? Are Porrim and Kankri gonna do it or what? What was the point of this? Who the fuck knows?

"Something Good"; I thought this song would just be so dark coming from Vriska considering her canon. I actually laughed out loud while writing this chapter, the first time something I made has made me do that. I love how this story went from harmless slapstick and wordplay to black as fuck. Originally, she was going to sing "If I Would Ever Leave You," (in which the singer explains why they wouldn't leave their lover in any season) and John would freak out because they haven't known each other that long. Maybe next time.

Shit my first longish fic that I've finished. I feel accomplished! I feel validated! Validate me further in the comments, loves. And if this is your first story of mine you've read, go read the others.