Deep in space, The Author is surrounded by shards of glass. She has nearly managed to claw Youtube's wall to smithereens. It totally wrecked up her nails, but she doesn't care. The Author throws her shoulder into the wall, and hears a satisfying, glassy crunch. She paces to the other end of the room, turns on her heel, and gets a running start.
Glass shatters around her as she breaks the fourth wall.
With Ficwad and I hanging out all the time, I haven't been able to speak to HSG in a while. I miss him. Does he miss me? We need to set boundaries in the thing we have here.
And Ficwad is nice, although she smells a bit weird. She hates water. Hates water! Unbelievable! Nobody hates water. And since we've been sticking together for two weeks, we're almost out of adventures to have. Killing imps and skinning basilisks is fun and all, but it really starts to lose its appeal. Seriously, if we go spelunking one more time, I will honestly like die or something. But while I was down there, I managed to find my quest bed. Sweet deal, right? So maybe I had to leave half my stuff down in the grottos in order to Captchalogue it, but I'm pretty sure it'll be worth it.
Intero tightens the knot. Him and I have made a small raft out of tree trunks, and he tied a jump rope to the end of it.
"Pretty cool, buddy! Let's go try it out!" I shout as we drag it to the water's edge. Interobanaraangsprite did most of the work on that thing, and he knows it. I get a roll of the eyes from him, which is okay, because he could easily flip this thing over on me.
The raft floats and bobs in the waves. Fretardsprite isn't too far away from us, and he's splashing in the water.
Ficwad's sitting in the middle of the beach, shivering her butt off. Her planet was super tropical and she hasn't adjusted to LOPHAL's climate yet.
"Hey! Ficwad! Intero's gonna pull us out! Let's go!" I call and wave her over.
"No thanks!" she shouts back.
"Aw, c'mon! You never do anything fun!"
"Do too! I don't wanna fall in!"
"You won't! Swear on Tolstoy!" I shout.
Ficwad gets up, and hesitates, walking carefully over.
"It'll be fun," I reassure her, but she doesn't look convinced. "That's a lot of water," she says doubtfully, but steps on nonetheless.
The Black Queen's airship lifts up from LOFAM. She didn't find the Mage there, but she found the two renegades who stole her airship.
The Knight of Life is skulking around on the next planet. If he thinks he can just sleepwalk all over Derse and never have to face consequences, he's got another thing coming!
The Black Queen wants to throw her head back and laugh maniacally, but that notion suddenly strikes her as ridiculous. It's so gaudy and evil villain-y. Should she chuckle? Not giggle, definitely not. Titters are too...lighthearted.
For the first time, the Black Queen wonders if she is getting too old for this.
The raft is bouncing over the waves. Interobanaraangsprite's pulling us around, laughing happily. Fretardsprite is sitting on one end, dragging his tail happily in the water. Ficwad, however, is clinging to my bicep and shrieking, half with laughter and half with fright.
"Chill out! We can still see the beach!" I call to her. The raft hits a big wave and jumps. Ficwad holds on tighter to me and whoops. The beach is a grey bump, but it's still close enough to probably swim to, if you don't die of hypothermia first.
Intero takes us on a hard right, and the left edge of the raft tips up. Ficwad screams and wraps her arms around me. I make like to throw her in, but she starts wheezing so I cut it out and hold onto her.
Interobanaraangsprite's arrows start to glow, and he raises a big wave up to the right of us.
"Oh no! Ficwad, hold on!" I say, and hold onto her tight.
The water's always cold here, and it numbs me like an ice-cream headache. Spitting out freshwater, I call to Intero to not be such a douchenozzle, because if he does that again the raft will sink.
Fretardsprite, on the other hand, is happy as a clam with all the water, gurgling and shaking water out of his hair.
A shadow passes over the boat, and Interobanaraangsprite stops pulling, letting the raft bob in the water. Man, that thing is huge! What is that? A sky whale?
Ficwad grips onto my arm. "What's that?" she asks, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.
"Uh, something really big and grey?" I respond, watching it touch down in the water. The wave it creates is enough to lift and push the raft closer to the shore.
Interobanaraangsprite spots the purple Dersite flags at the same time I do.
My stomach feels watery, and my shoulders feel like they've been stretched out. Oh God, I haven't been practicing a lot. Man, I'm gonna get my butt kicked.
"What's that?" Ficwad asks again, and points to a black figure standing at the top of the ship, near the stern. The front. The pointy front bit.
She can't be here yet. I'm still having fun.
Oh, crap! Ficwad! We have to get out of here!
But if we leave, she'll catch us, and then she'll kill us.
My lips feel cold.
If I leave, Ficwad will die. She's died for me once. And I can't, okay, I can't let her die again for me being selfish.
Well, there's only one option here, isn't there?
I barely even turn away from the grey sky boat. I just shift my weight violently to one side, sending Ficwad stumbling off the edge of the raft and screaming blue murder into the water.
"Fretardsprite! Take her back to shore!"
It's an order, and he understands what I mean. Ficwad shakes free, though, and paddles to the edge of the raft. "What's going on? Why'd you do that?" she asks, teeth chattering. Her hair's slicking itself into strange patterns.
"Ficwad, that thing's from Derse. I don't want you here. You gotta go back," I tell her, kneeling to undo her grip from the raft.
"No! I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you!" she says, trying to dig her dead-white fingers into the logs.
"You can't. Let go. Go find Pottermore, he'll help you."
"But you'll die if it's just you!" protests she.
The lady doth protest too much. I won't die.
"Ficwad, I'll be fine!" I say, and think out a quick apology as I pry open her fingers.
She's crying, looking pale under her tan.
"Don't go, FFN. Please."
Fretardsprite starts to tug under her arms and hauls her back to shore. Ficwad lets go of the raft and lets herself be pulled like a corpse through the water.
Interobanaraangsprite's watching me, and I take out my Most Jot Strife Rapier.
"What?" he asks me, spitting the word out.
"We just have to slow her down long enough for FW and Fretardsprite to get off the planet," I tell him, lining up a playlist.
"Whayocrayzay?" he says, looking back at the retreating form of Fretardsprite.
I decide not to answer him. Like, I know this won't end well, but I'm a good enough fighter to hold her off. I don't expect to die, not really, but mutilation is probably what's coming down my side of the pike.
Will losing an arm hurt? Breaking a bone hurts enough, so I don't think it'll be any worse than that. The blood loss will be bad, though, I think. Exsanguination is not a nice thing.
On a whim, I switch the Most Jot Strife to my left hand. Fighting left-handed might give me the element of surprise which could come in handy later.
I turn from the back of the raft, and well, look, in my own Hamletesque state, the Black Queen is nearly upon me.
Good God, she is hideous. She's got two heads, which are catlike, but still plated with crustacean armor. The ebony shine of the plates is offset by tufts of hair sprouting between them, with the same texture as crabgrass.
"Fool!" she bellows. "Prepare to meet your death!"
She unsheathes her claws, and I don't know if it's because I'm spending too much time with HSG, but I snort derisively and say, "Seriously?"
She blinks, thrown.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I mean, sure, I'm probably not going to come across well in this fight, but still, it's kind of pompous. Calling me a fool and all," said the idiot in Knight's clothing.
She's quiet. Then, a simple, "Oh." Her ears flatten down to her skull.
Wow, why do I feel guilty all of a sudden?
"Hey, um, it's okay?" I venture.
Her ears flick back up, and she says, "I did not ask for your opinion!"
"Well, sorry! Didn't mean to offend, you just have some repartee to work on!" I point out.
Intero's looking at me like I'm stupid. Why am I discussing witticisms with a creature that killed my cousin's dream self?
And tried to kill mine?
Did she kill Youtube? I can't recall. But she is still really bad news!
"Do we fight now?"
Wow, I am articulate.
There's a thick, awkward silence.
"Yeah, I guess so," says the Black Queen, and lunges for me. I block her first hit, reverberations clattering up my arm. The thin, silver blade of the Rapier seems awfully flimsy now.
Arrows are lighting up on the plates of the Black Queen's armor, and the sea starts to tip. A wave sends the raft spinning hard to the right, and I bend my knees to keep my balance. The beach is getting further and further away, and there's a new cliff outcropping coming up. The Black Queen's there again in my face like a horror movie tactic, but I parry and go for her ribs. Music's blasting loudly, mixing with the sounds of the storm. Intero lifts his arms, raising water behind him. He shouts and sends it down.
The two of us space out to avoid most of the wave, and work together on either side. That always seems to work in the movies, but since she's got two heads she can keep an eye on both of us. Intero pushes the raft away from a cliff edge, the beach far behind us now, and I go for a very ambitious forward grammar slant. I miss and land hard on one knee. The Black Queen's claws come whistling down, but Intero grabs onto her arm, belaying her long enough for me to stagger up.
The arrows on the arms of the Black Queen glow, and the cliff face beside us shatters, tan boulders raining down. Intero diverts them enough to land beside us, shooting the raft forwards instead of sinking it. She's quicker than I thought, and manages to get a few claws into my abdomen. Not particularly deep, barely anything. It feels like a popped stitch at first, and then the pain kind of shoots through me, sharpening me up.
I go on the offensive right away, and push her to the edge of the raft. My shoes are soaked right through, and my clothes are sticking to my skin. But my concentration slips when I spot my sister running along the cliff face.
Like, seriously, Fictionpress, of all the times to show up, you pick the massive fight scene?
Claws rake across my sternum, and I jump back, switching to my right hand.
The Black Queen's eyes narrow, and the raft tips down as my sister lands beside me.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Touching sibling moment aside, it's the three of us against the Black Queen.
The Author wanders through the Place Behind the Wall. She recognizes the clocks of heroes, but she doesn't bother them.
She wonders if her boss was just a figment of her imagination, but figures that the universe can't be that cruel. Where is he?
She turns a corner, and closes her eyes. When she opens them, the hallway in front of her is still off-jointed and strange looking. It looks like somebody took a bunch of photo stills and laid them over one another to create an acid trip of a hallway.
The floor still feels relatively solid, so she continues. "Hello?" she calls, and notices a spot of movement.
Something pale white and relatively her size.
"Is somebody there?"
Fictionpress is to my left, my stomach is sick, Interobanaraangsprite is trying to keep the raft level, the Black Queen is in front of me, and I feel like I will puke.
The raft lists right, and is sharply corrected left.
"Watch!" FP shouts, and covers me, ducking in front of me.
She's protecting me.
She's not letting me grow up, it's not fair, it's not fair.
Fictionpress is thrown to the side of the raft, and rolls off, into the water.
"Whoa!" I call, and whoops, guard is down.
The Black Queen rips the Mosh Jot Strife Rapier out of my hand.
"Kneel," she says, and slams it through my thigh.
Oh.
Oh my God.
Somebody's screaming, and I can hear myself breathing, really, deep, heavy breaths.
Right through the bone, oh no, no.
The Black Queen twists the Mosh Jot Strife Rapier to the right, and then rips it out. My leg sprays arterial blood, and the pain is everything now, there's nothing else but pain and I jam my fist into the wound, trying to slow down the blood.
I won't die from this, calm down, you're okay.
You can do this.
Through swimming eyes, I see Fictionpress clambering back onto the boat. Oh, good. Good. She can help.
The sword comes down again, thin silver blade driving deep into my stomach, then out and back into my leg.
The world tips. FP is screaming, screaming revenge, and the raft stops tipping around. Still feel like I'm moving, though.
FP is gone, after. After the Black. Queen.
Intero's sitting with me, gasping, sobbing, blurting syllables, and I tell him, "Go help her."
Sounds like it's coming from outer space, like it's from somebody else.
But he respects.
And he lets go.
And now I'm all alone.
I'm shaking, shivering, teeth chattering. I pull out my sylladex for the last time, and take out my Quest Bed.
Haul up. On. Blood spurting from stomach wound, Rapier sill caught in the wrecked bone of mid thigh. Am I dying?
Reverse it, palindrome. I am dying.
And I start laughing as I pull up a message.
[Fanfiction Dot-Net (FFN) messaged ? (HSG)!]
FFN: hey. You there?
HSG: Implying I'd be somewhere else?
FFN: shhhhh i need to talk to you
HSG: Where've you been, you little fag?
FFN: shhhh
FFN: listen dn don't interrupt
Can't type out the words, because my hands are shaking so badly. So I switch it over to voice command.
"I don't know..."
FFN: I don't know how I feel about you.
FFN: Bros don't mess around but we're not bros, right?
I don't want labels on this. Please, please don't laugh, please. I feel like I'm going to cry.
God, what if he hates me now?
"You confuse me so..."
FFN: You confuse me so much.
FFN: I don't know if I like you like you or what.
FFN: And screw all that label gay stuff or whatever too.
FFN: But I think I might be in love with you.
I am rambling and ruining everything.
FFN: I want to meet you for real and hold onto your hand and stuff. I want to help you fight stuff.
FFN: And I don't care if you're angry all the time. I'll make you tea and pancakes,
I'll listen, I swear to God.
FFN: And maybe some kissing and hand-holding stuff too, I'm not picky.
FFN: Hello?
I watch as his olive-green letters spill across my message system.
HSG: Suck my dick, fag.
HSG: huehuehue what the fuck ever. Sure. yeah. Space Boyfriends. Whatever.
FFN: Thank you.
"Hey, what's..."
FFN: Hey, what's your real name?
HSG: Homestuck General Forums.
HSG: Are you crying? God, you're so gay.
Fanfiction Dot-Net's clock starts to tick back and forth, gauging his uselessness in terms to his death.
The clock is halfway down the acid trip hallway, and The Author puts her hand in between it, stopping it between Heroic and Just.
The clock starts to flash and glow. The Author continues down the hall.