The following is a whacky sci-fi crossover between two of my favorite franchises, Rick and Morty and the webcomic Homestuck.
I had so much fun writing this back in February of last year. If I could write an episode for either story, it would look something like this. Hope you enjoy!
Snuffles, formerly known as Snowball, the peaceful leader of this paradise planet, communes with you one last moment before your return to Alternia. You arrived here hours ago, you think, via the strange “portal gun” that Vriska found along the cliffs of your hive. You still have no idea how this thing works, but you’re here. She won’t let you hold it, of course.
You sit in your wheelchair, as ever, before the complicated mechanics that tower this fluffy barkbeast over you.
Vriska is waiting below the grand palace for your procession with the leader to terminate, growing impatient. Not impatient with you whatsoever is Snuffles, his thin, robotic voice smooth in your thoughts.
Most of the intelligent robot barkbeasts have been kind to your brand of tourism, just trying to learn more about them. But Vriska has, in her way, upset the local barkbeasts by openly questioning their society to such a degree that you have to leave now, hours in.
So it goes. She just wanted to make sure things were in order, that they’d be safe if the Condesce came through.
But is it just her order, Tavros?
You can see your reflection in the shine of Snuffles’ steel frame, as you hear his voice. You look tired. Adventuring used to make more sense, just for the shit of it, before the accident. Then you thought Vriska forcing you to spend time together was just her trying to make it up to you.
Now? This other world is perfect to you. It’s a deadly, freak accident that you’re here. If any adults find out you left, you’ll both be culled on the spot.
But the white sun outside here does not scorch the skin. The grass is actually greener, there is no widespread violence just for entering the street, just for being a different breed.
The society was created because it was a dictatorship once, learned its lessons.
Though you’ve never seen this variation of a barkbeast creature before, in your eight sweeps of life, as soon as you felt them in their dimension, you were able to connect.
What does that mean? That you’re meant for more in the universe than Cavalreaping at conscription?
I don’t know.
Snuffles lowers the chamber containing his body, more level to you.
What happened to you was not your fault. Do you want to walk again?
Uh, yeah. But –
Do not ‘but.’ We can supply you with our technology, to restore your usage of legs. We will have to make some adjustments, but it can be done.
You roll your chair back a bit, stunned. The hairs on the bumps of your skin stand on edge.
“But that must be so, uh, expensive, for you, and I’m not a barkbeast, so, how would it connect to my biologies?”
That is why I said we will have to make some adjustments.
Vriska’s bellowing, outside.
Not now. She wants to unleash some kind of revolution on Alternia, now, with this “portal gun.” Create an underground railroad to funnel out young trolls, some witchcraft tech that she found in the ground.
What about this world? If the Condesce ever comes through?
What about you, Tavros?
“I don’t know, if I have time – “
“You may return whenever you like,” Snuffles speaks through the equipment. “We will be waiting for you. You remind me of an old friend.”
You take the elevator to the ground, slowly making your way to the entrance. Vriska has taken a seat in the center of the path to the double doors, yards away from the barkbeast guards who keep turning around to observe her. She has a panel of the portal gun open in her lap, staring intently, her vision eightfold at work.
The doors open automatically, but she doesn’t turn when she hears them.
“There you are. Man! Thought I was gonna have to go up there and interrupt some mpreg.”
“Uh, what’s an ‘mpreg’?”
“Some shit Terezi’s lusus told her in a dream once. Thought it sounded funny. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what she thinks it means.”
“Okay, I don’t.”
That gets her to look at you.
A little too saucy. Oops.
“Are you fucking ready or what?” Her voice drips with venom. Your hairs stand on end. “You took forever. I can’t believe the idiot this gold mine belongs to just left this on Alternia? What were they even doing here, spying on us? Doesn’t matter. We can go so many other places than this, Tavros, probably anywhere! If we don’t get killed the second we get back, anyway.”
How is she able to joke about things like that?
“Oh, please,” she reads your mind, cheater, “you and Gamzee joke about that all the time.”
She exaggerates all her vowels at the end there. You aren’t exactly sure what she’s making fun of you for. Is that what she’s doing?
“I thought,” you say, “you wanted to go back to Alternia now.”
She stands, abrupt, and regards you with a glare.
“We wouldn’t’ve even spent so long in this boring little prairie if you weren’t so obsessed with sharing your feelings through that feeble little mind of yours. I wanted to know if this was a planet worth taking over someday, but no, you wanted to discuss the finer nuances of barkbeast shit!”
You don’t point out that her psionics disallowed her primary access to the most powerful beings here.
That was just your luck, for once.
But she heard you.
Moments in the future…
The air is thicker, almost suffocating. You know home. You open your eyes to find yourself rolled back into your hive, from the same place you left, in front of the nearly barred window. Vriska follows you shortly after, closing the green, glowing portal behind you.
“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Vriska begins. She opens that one hatch on the portal gun, frowning, scheming, scheming. She starts to pace around you. You turn back to the window. “This is way, way more important than I’m sure you can even grasp.”
“You got that right.”
Both of you turn to find the strange voice coming from an alien in a new portal, floating ominously across the room.
“What the fuck,” you say, without even meaning to.
You wish Tinkerbull was here.
Vriska doesn’t play this, whatever this is, tucking “her” portal gun in her inner jacket. If Gamzee’s hellish clown gods are real, maybe this is one of them.
Equipping her current sword, Vriska charges at the fragile, blue-haired, bipedal thing in the portal.
“Hey, hey, murderbitch, knock it off!”
“What did you just call me?”
Quickly, the alien barrel rolls out of the portal under her slice, coming up unstable, but finding his bearings as Vriska tries to slice at him from behind.
“What are you? How can I understand you?” Vriska demands this while almost taking his head, but he ducks quick, unbothered.
“A simple voice recognition system, sweetheart – “ He dodges a lash to his face, keeps dodging and dodging, how can he move like that? “Translated into millions of dialects across galaxies – part of the way the portal system works, since I’m here, now it works – which you’d know if you didn’t fucking steal my portal gun.”
“This is yours? Ha! You’re a pathetic, ancient demon!”
“And you’re a future war criminal.”
“You don’t know anything about me!”
Vriska throws the sword and it laces his arm, cutting the white lab coat down to the skin.
“Fuck! The fuck is wrong with this planet?”
“You are, right now!”
“Oh, Morty, you’re really in it now. But no, you weren’t gonna drop the extra portal gun somewhere so obscure that it fled your cumfilled brain the second Jessica even breathed in your perimeter.”
“Who, uh, are you talking to?”
The grandiose alien turns to you, but just for a moment. You’re almost invisible.
“Not you, half breed. Man, it must be hell for you on this world, living under a violent fascist dictatorship where she basically left you to die and you’re disabled? Quick, someone – someone get, the Hallmark channel, or, fuck, is it TLC? Yeah, yeah – ”
“Don’t fucking talk about him like that!”
Vriska defending you? In your sci-fi fantasy nightmare come to life?
Another portal opens, bringing with it a draft of cold and another alien, and this is way too much foreign activity happening in a random brownblood’s hive off the Southern Coast. It’s still evening so the drones won’t be around for hours, and you don’t know how that makes sense if you were in the barkbeast utopia that long, but still, but still –
Vriska always puts you here, too deep in political shenanigans. And you can’t walk out anymore.
The other alien looks like this one, sort of, meager skin pulled over thin bones, but a young one, disoriented from falling ass backwards out of the portal and into your crowded hive.
He has another portal gun, maybe his own, clumsily fixing it to his belt. This forbidden science magic from these aliens, it intrigues you, even if it might be why you die –
“Oh hell no,” says the old alien to the young one, “bitch, you took another one of my guns to look for the gun you already lost?”
“Rick, lay off, I didn’t mean to lose it – “
“Morty, this episode’s only been on for a few minutes and you already fucked up this spectacularly, you’re, you’re wanted upstairs.”
“You were here? How?”
Vriska wants answers. Now.
She marches over to her sword on the floor, expertly kicks the hilt to flip it into her hand, and points it at “Morty,” the young, now mortified alien, whose skin is turning red. You wonder what blood color the old one has. Him, like you, running around with a guy like that? In your outer space?
“Uh, hey, n-no, not really, I was just, y’know, p-passin’ by, up above, just passin’ through – “
“Wow, Tavros,” snorts Vriska, “I think this unintelligent creature is you.”
You and the other unintelligent creature make eye contact.
He doesn’t seem like to you, upfront.
“Wow, if you think I’m like that guy, then, then you’re wrong.” “Morty” laughs, or something. “At least my legs work, and, and some other stuff, am I right?”
You don’t seem to like him upfront. Technically, you have the better blood here, but you can’t say that out loud. You’ve tried.
That other stuff also works about half of the time. You almost say that, because you think it’s funny, but the old one is one roll ahead of you.
“Shit, Morty, the guys upstairs are in talks with TLC for this storyline, you ableist piece of shit.”
She charges Rick again, but this time he pulls out his own weapon – some sort of prismatic gun, hot where the lasers would spill, nothing you’ve ever seen –
Vriska falters, backs up.
“Yeah, no FLARP-ing here, little mistress.” He cocks whatever mechanism, doesn’t pull, which angers her back, defenses raised. He knows what FLARP is? You’re gonna die here. This is a triple agent here to murder you for going off planet. Was it worth it? Is this worse than the drones? “Just give me the gun and me and my grandson will be on our way.”
“Your fucking what-son? Not until you tell me where you’re from, or why you think the Condesce’s territory is your petty playground.”
“None of your business and everything in existence is actually my territory, thank you very much.”
“I don’t belong to you.”
Rick looks amused.
“No, you belong to Fish Hitler.”
“Uh, haha, Hitler,” Morty supplies, “we’ve never been here, by the way, he’s just pulling your leg, um, a-arms, and I don’t know how the gun even got here, that’s, that’s still something – “
“You’re not getting it back,” Vriska growls, ignoring the wide-eyed little one, and you, ever still, “I bet you have eight million! Surely you could spare one for us poor, poor little victims of fascism.”
“Bullshit, you’re probably secretly her biggest fan.”
Vriska jumps for him, physical scuffle, both weapons dropped, and you have no idea why this is happening, neither does Morty, but they seem to have auto-agreed on some kind of villain’s code.
“So, uh, who’s she,” Morty says, suddenly near you, as you watch in horror as their scuffle begins to knock into your desk, throwing things around.
“Trust me, you don’t, want to know.”
It doesn’t last long, Vriska far stronger than him once they’re on the ground, but a sharp elbow to her face that breaks her glasses disorients her long enough that he steals the portal gun from her jacket, bleeding vibrant, uncanny red all the while. She’s barely injured, besides some glass shards to the jaw.
“Morty, let’s get the fuck out of here, stat!”
Vriska roars as she chases them towards their quickly vanishing portal, reaching for Morty’s foot at the last second, taking his shoe, only that.
When the portal closes, that feels like a death sentence.
You almost hear something knocking on your front doors.
You’re just, imagining that.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Vriska sighs, tossing the alien shoe, kicking your floorboards, and observing the mess that is her glasses, the remains of the your Fiduspawn cards on the floor, and the desk turned over with all the trivia you’d been collecting in piles, discarded haphazardly now.
You could, not listen.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean all this up. Put all your little fucking stacks back in their hives.”
That counts as an apology, you think, in Vriska’s world. You guess you’ll take it, if she’s pitching.
“And we’re getting that fucking gun back.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, the sign of her communion attempt, the tendrils of her hair swaying slow. Chills rise all over you, as usual, but you aren’t her target.
“What kind of backwards ass convoluted neuro pathways are these?”
You can’t, get into the alien’s head.
She drops her attempt. “I will.”
I want the gun, also.
That piques her interest, genuinely. Maybe for the first time all night, you think. Sometimes, Vriska can see you. Ironically, she’s not hiding behind all that glaring glass, at the moment.
You wish she couldn’t read the reason why, that her vicious light would stop exposing you. She can see and hear Snuffles’ sacred, impossible promise to you.
“That’s not gonna happen,” she chuckles, coming closer to your chair. She kicks the wheel a little. “There’s no time.”
It’s a nice idea.
“Keep it at that, ‘toreadoormat.”
Hours in the future, but not many…
Your name is Morty Smith, and you really didn’t mean to drop that portal gun on Alternia. You swear. You’re not even sure what’s so wrong about it, to be honest.Continue reading