Hello, Diamonds here with a bit of an explanation.

So, the Card Carrying Villains all named ourselves after card suits before anyone started reading Homestuck, and the results are rather amusing. I am one of the Homestuck writers on this account, the other being Spades. She was expecting to be the one to write the creepy, but so it goes. Enjoy.

Homestuck, probably for the best, does not belong to me.

You are Gamzee Makara and this is your real life.

The sopor slime ran out a while ago and now you're awake, more awake than you have ever been before. You know exactly what you have to do (though you realize gradually that want is a much better word) and you've wanted to do it all of your miserably inebriated life. Only now, however, do you realize this is so. How much you've missed while wandering around in a haze of slime and Faygo and terrible rapping. It's time to make up for that.

The first thing you do is tell your friend who hates you, the one who won't reveal his blood color to anyone. You suspect this is because he is so low on the hemospectrum that anyone with the slightest clarity of thought would cull him without the slightest hesitation. After you talk it becomes apparent that he will now be avoiding you, but you are the best of subjugglators and this doesn't bother you in the slightest. You will find him soon, and you will make very, very sure he knows his place.

You don't have to search for the strong blue one; he comes to you willingly with little fear in his body. Perhaps he sees the red lenses you now wear and is disarmed, or perhaps he simply feels he has nothing to fear. Either way you soon bring him to his knees with a well-placed arrow, though you feel he would kneel for you even unaided. He succumbs to you with pleasure, knowing one of his beloved highbloods was the one to end his life.

The bright-green feline one is not so eager to die, and upon seeing the blueblood go even bluer from lack of air she leaps at you, artificial claws bared and previously innocuous teeth set in a vicious snarl. You're tempted to laugh at how ridiculous she looks, like a housecat playing lion, but then again you're tempted to laugh at nearly everything nowadays. You catch her wrists midleap, allowing the pinned cat to claw your face just once and release three lines of indigo. But she has been a very bad kitty, and without punishment no pet will learn. You think as you drop her limp body that her ridiculous blue hat will go nicely with the blind teal one's sunglasses.

That same teal one has been safely transferred to an empty respiteblock, where she will soon wake to find the note from her blue spidery rival. The note, of course, that you fabricated. She will reach the obvious—obvious to her, anyway—conclusion and will soon ascend to the roof where the spider-turned-goddess is waiting. You know the almost-royal seadweller will be there too, if his own darkness hasn't broken him in half. The Prince of Hope, who never had any. It is time for you, too, to ascend.

You can see them at a distance, and it seems all has gone according to plan. The spider, who now seems more orange than blue, and the prince, all white light and berserk fury, stand ready to clash with each other. You will take great pride in interrupting what would otherwise have gone perfectly for both of them. That is, you will assuming everything goes as you hope. But luck is on none of your sides today, even for she who has all of it. The pure green one you thought had been run through with white light returns, shedding that same light wherever she walks. As she realizes exactly what she has interrupted, she makes a quick decision and runs towards you, delivering a hard kick to your crotch. Stumbling backward and then falling from the roof, you can honestly say that you are just a little surprised. Perhaps it is time for the carnival's intermission.

It is a long climb back up to the roof, but you will return powerful: you have the John human's precious Warhammer of Zillyhoo and you know exactly what to do with it. You suspect you were unconscious for some period of time and that by the time you return to the battleground the remainder of the survivors will have arrived. As it turns out you are correct, seeing the angry gray one and the two-faced yellow one who no longer lisps, but more than that has happened.

You draw nearer to the still-unsuspecting group of trolls and can see an orange figure sprawled on the ground. Clearly the goddess has met her end. But heroic or just, that doesn't really matter to you. She was always a pawn, as much as she thought she controlled the others. You see, too, that the prince has fallen. He lies on the ground, bisected, with a pool of purple connecting the halves. It seems the rainbow drinker has taken her revenge on the one who thought he killed her. This is all irrelevant to you. You can bring darkness to any one left alive. As you prepare to bring them down the mage, the sylph, the seer, and the knight turn as one to face you. It is time.

First is the seer, wearing the neophyte's clothing that even to you seems gaudy, though she wears it like the royalty she has never been. You see her long white cane is covered in deep blue, and you realize that it was her who brought the thief down. How fitting. She raises her cane and lets out a long hiss, her sightless eyes full of hate. But the gray one runs towards her, shooshing her and waving his arms until they collide with the cane and she drops it.

Next the mage, now blind but as divided as ever. One side prepared for love, the other for hate, but both are silenced by the same relentless shooshing.

Finally it is the sylph's turn to do what has always been her duty: she looks between the two hate-filled trolls and you, ready to serve as the go-between yet another time. The gray one, however, stills even her with a silent assurance of something you can't quite determine.

Now it is his turn, and you know already what he will do. You have managed to out-maneuver even the best of them, and now it is time to show them all just how dark the night can be. And oh, how much fun you will have. He raises his laughable sickle and rushes you and you raise the hammer, letting out your loudest and most exuberant honk yet. But right as you expect the clash of weapon against weapon, you instead feel something else.

A gentle prod on your shoulder, and yet another shoosh? You have no idea what this senseless gray one is planning, but it won't deter you. You resume honking, but at the same time his hand moves to your face. Pap. Pap. Shooooossshhh.

The noise is oddly calming, and it has a strange effect on you. You can feel your eyelids begin to droop, but you won't go down without a fight. You honk again, wildly, desperately, but it is no use. As your eyes finally slide closed something clicks in your brain and suddenly…

You can think again.

You aren't hazy like you used to be, but the merciless subjugglator is, for now, gone. You hope fervently that your friends will forgive you for everything you've done today, but for now you're going to put it out of your mind. You feel a comforting warmth around your body, and let your typical sleepy smile spread across your face. Now you remember. It's your best bro Karkat, and he just saved your life.

You are Gamzee Makara, and you have never screwed up this badly.

A/N: Whew, second person.

There's more in my brain where this came from, so if you're interested, please review. Thanks.