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CRUCIBLE OF CREATIVE POTENTIAL: The Homestuck Request Meme
ACT TWO
(also known as SHITSTAIN ASSMASTER)By popular demand, a general request meme for MSPA, at long last. Have an idea you want to see drawn or written? This is the place to ask. Both romantic (of any kind, het or slash) and general prompts are accepted. Reply to those comments with art

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AA: Try to intimidate Dave Strider

[anonymous]

Dave Strider. Approx 12y, 0m, 5d, 6h, 20m, 54s old.
Dave Strider. Scared for his mortal life.
DAVE STRIDER. MY B E S T E N E M Y.

Something you had to do. Words that both of the Strider Brothers hated. But, they couldn't do anything about it. Bro said that the old bastard had some wicked shit that he (Dave) did not want to mess with.

And the fuckton of wierdass shadow zombie ghost monstrosities that seemed to obey the goddamn whispers of that old bastard did not help the appearance the bastard was going for. Classy. Genteel. Non-threatening. Dave guessed that the red haired bastard in the old ass suit was going for those. The deck of cards and the suit helped, but they didn't hide the maw behind the smile, or the bloody brand.

Doan worry, little guy. I aintgunna kill you yet. We're just gunna have ourselves a little game-a poker. Nice and civil. The monster smiled at Dave, and for some reason, the kid felt a sickly chill down his spine.

“Shut up 'n deal.” Aww. His soon to be best enemy was looking all brave and shit and he just wanted to go over there and put his hands around that lovely little shit's face and then squeeze until he had warm, wet, flavorful mush between his hands to enjoy. And then feast on the warm insides and cooling outsides.

But that wouldn't be right. He and Dave Strider had shit to settle properly, in that place and damn what the whispers said.

'right Mister Dave Strider. One game a poker coming up. I'm Mr. Undershadow, just, so ya know.

The kid frowns slightly as the cards get dealed, but it doesn't matter. You've been alive long enough that any human's an open book to you. And with your little ghostly spy, you even know the shit that ol' Max-y said about you. Gotta do some nasty shit to that boy before he gets offed.

Oh, by the way, it's sudden death that we're playin'. No draws. No second chances.

“What's with the extra hands?” Well, it's not like it's something you could hide, but points to the kid for not freakin out when you change the rules on him.

Ohsforthose lil' friends-a yours. You slash at the little shenanigan from wrongtime, painting the kid red. And yet he doesn't scare. Don't run. The little fucker has the gall to let a big bit of himself die rather than show weakness to you, and really, that's why you're not going to kill him before he can become your best enemy.

The hands were predetermined. Even with the time shit that wrongplace saw fit to grant him, he can't see through your cheating. His hand's trash but for the trump,mixed, almost a straight but for the missing five. Yours is a Royal Straight Flush, but for the trump replacing the Jack.

Didn't win this time, kid, but I think next time you might do better. But lemme give you a bita the future. Things are going to change. Shit'll go down and when we meet again, I'm going to beat your ass into the ground kid. Just grow from it and make sure to get better. Or I will fucking murder you.

You have Cold Comfort spy on the kid on the way out. Make sure he doesn't die. There's a moment of panic as Gunnigagap, the one you have the least control over, nearly pastes the kid on the way out. You're not going to make it. The kid will die. And then he glows.

And seeing that glow fills you with mercury. No. That's a metal. It fills you with silver happyness. Your best enemy is newly born, and crushes the monster. But just barely.

And for this moment, this glorious moment, you don't mind being the Nameless Blade. You cloak yourself in darkness, and kill a few whores, dedicating them to your best enemy.