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twofootedbones · 4 years

Text

Rose Colored Shades

Summary: There was once a moment where Latula knew who Cronus was, but when you’re wearing rose colored glasses, every flag is just a flag.

A look through Latula’s eyes and her view of was had happened between her, Cronus, and Mituna that made them break farther apart than she would have ever liked.

You know those stories, those ones where they always start with the “just us three against the world?” Well that’s how this one starts. It was just me and my boys, my two goofballs that I loved with my whole bloodpusher. My matesprit Mituna Captor and my considering morail Cronus Ampora. The days we spent together were always perfect, it didn’t matter if we got a skate trick wrong, got chased away for loitering, or just couldn’t get past this one level in some dumb video game we picked up from the discount bin. We were the perfect Kingdom Bloodpushers trio! One epic heroine and her two boy sidekicks.

Then we started the game. Me and ‘Tuna saw it as the perfect challenge and we dragged poor ol’ Cro along with us. It didn’t take long for a lot of things to go sour though. Everyone started screaming and punching, pretty sure half of the screaming was Kankri’s fault but it was chaos nonetheless. We all went from one radical kickass group into a clusterfuck of horrible words and totally not rad violence. No one listened to each other and everyone tried to be the leader. Many of us actually broke away from the group to do things our own way. Blame is on teenage angst.

Then it happened. I wasn’t around to see it and I beat myself up about it every single day. The only one to see it was that stupid mime and he barely showed an ounce of pitty in those cursed eyes. Just bringing the body to us, plopping him on the ground, and walking away like he didn’t just deliver us the most horrific thing we had ever seen. No one knew how to act at this point, we stood there just staring at him. The Tuna I once knew was gone, none of us knew how to help him, he laid there on the ground just shaking and crying. He was covered in his own

The cursor flashed on the screen, waiting for the next words to be written. Latula leaned back in her desk chair, wiping the sudden tears away from her face ultimately ruining the minimal mascara she had put on just hours before. This was going to take a while. She didn’t know why she was trying to write something like this, Aranea claimed that writing gave “feels closure” whatever that meant. Just a few feet away sat lil Mituna. Well he wasn’t that little as he towered over her by a solid foot, but he was her little honey bee. He was starfishing in the bean bag chair as he idly chewed on a necklace he found somewhere in his hive. His hair was held out of his face by one of Latula’s scrunchies and he sat in just a pair of gym shorts, the fern leaf-like scars that danced across his body being revealed. He hated it when the others saw them, she was the only exception. She was allowed to gaze upon and touch the flowing scars. It was as if his veins had been dyed faint shades of red and blue.

He had yet to notice her eyes on him and continued to just stare off at the wall, not even paying mind to the show that was playing on the TV. Latula took a deep breath and turned back to the document.The same blinking cursor ready for her to continue.

When he woke up he wasn’t the same, or so I was convinced. When his eyes finally opened, they weren’t the same red and blue slushie color I was so used to seeing. They were completely void of his colors, a black and white that he carried with him to the dream bubbles. He was afraid and confused and he didn’t recognize any of us. He tried to run from all of us whenever he was awake, but all he gained from that was agitating all the harsh electrical burns he had. I was starting to grow sick of yellow being smeared all over the room. The day ‘Tuna first woke was the same day I saw Cronus Ampora genuinely cry for the last time. He stopped coming to visit Mituna shortly after, claiming that everything that came out of his mouth was wrong even though all that really came out was screams of fear. The last time he visited he lashed out at him, it wasn’t much just a shout of the words “shut up” before he ran out of the room. I was willing to push that aside back then, I was at my wits end too. We thought that my matesprit and his best friend was gone. We both believed that our trio was soon going to be a duo. Cronus couldn’t bear to see his friend like this anymore, leaving me alone to take care of him.

It didn’t take long for Tuna to start using words again. Guaranteed they were in the wrong order, but they were words. He stopped screaming at everyone and he stopped trying to run away from all of us. But he would still pick at his scabs and burns.

One day he asked me what my name was for the ten-thousandth time. Except instead of repeating it back to me or forgetting it immediately, this dork said and I quote: “That’s pretty, like you!”

At that moment I swear I was falling in love with him twice over. Every time I would come into the block we kept him in he would call me pretty. He eventually started calling me by my name, but for months he would always ask for me by calling me “the pretty lady”

Not even a sweep passed before we were all done for. Our game failed and now here we are living forever in the dream bubbles. Totally not a rad ending I kn

A crash interrupted her typing, she quickly turned around only to see that Mituna was no longer in the block with her. “Tuna?” she called out. A faint mumble came before she heard the boy in question reply from the nutrition block. “I DIDN’T BREAK ANYTHING,” was all he screamed. Latula had long gotten used to his lack of volume control. “It was plas- pl- not glass!” he followed in a completely different tone. “Are you sure you don’t need help bee?” she got up out of her chair and started walking towards the block. Standing in the center of a tupperware war-zone stood Mituna Captor and his perfectly poured cup of orange juice. “Hi,” he said with the largest smile plastered onto his face. Latula’s smile came slowly before she was just flat out wheezing at the scene before her, Mituna joined his cackling laugh mixing with hers. The Captor stopped to take a sip of the juice before kicking around at the tupperware. They couldn’t have anything glass in the hive because of this and the glass they do have is hidden in the lowest cabinets where this gentle giant doesn’t think to look.

“What happened?”

Mituna pointed up towards the cabinet. “I put the-them away lasst,” he admitted. The boy’s version of putting away the dishes is to stack up a disaster that will ultimately topple over the second someone would open the door. He put his cup down on the counter and started to clean up the mess. Latula joined him. This wasn’t anything really that new, he would always set up the dishes this way in Cronus’ hive whenever they would visit, just to watch the seadweller open the door to be pelted by this psionic’s genius pranks. Now it’s become a normal schedule to never open the cabinet door fully. Kankri has told them that Cronus still does that as a habit, having to watch the seadweller cringe before opening anything every time he goes over there to lecture him. Meenah has even just told Cronus to remove the door if he’s going to keep complaining about it

After fixing the nutrition block back up and settling Tuna back into his spot, this time with juice and a movie he would actually kind of focus on, Latula returned to her husktop, spamming the space bar to wake it back up.

Ya know, when you look at the world through rose colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags. Things started to get worse and worse with Cronus the more ‘Tuna recovered. Cronus just couldn’t see the friend he once knew anymore but that gives him no right to treat him the way he did and still does. The day we started to completely cut off all contact with Cronus was the day he actually hit Mituna in front of me. Me and ‘Tuna were just out skating, trying to find the best place to try some basic tricks when we came across Cro’. We took a short break to talk to him for a bit, I should’ve noticed this so much sooner but Mituna was extremely uncomfortable being around him. It’s my fault for not hearing it in his words. Cronus continued to speak some kind of friendship nonsense and wrapped his arm around my bee’s shoulder. ‘Tuna tensed up and shoved the guy away, hard. Cronus looked at him shocked just standing there. Then the bastard said something I will never forget. “I should’ve fucking culled you after we found your broken sorry-ass,”

Then he reeled back and punched ‘Tuna square in the face. The visor on that helmet cracked and shattered. They started to brawl. Mituna pulled off his helmet to throw it right at Cronus’ chest and managed to pick up his skateboard to slam it into the dude’s side. I grabbed onto ‘Tuna and got out of there ASAP, the poor boy continuing to scream, swear and shout jumbled words all the way until we got back to my hive. I don’t know what happened to the beaten fucker in the dirt, but he could just sit there and wallow for all I care.

I blocked Cronus on every single platform we shared that night, went into ‘Tuna’s accounts and did the same. While he doesn’t use any of his accounts any more they are important to me and I wouldn’t want that asshole touching any of it. Each and every post being a museum of what Mituna Captor once was and continues to be.

There have been more times where the two of them have gotten into fights, usually times where I’m not around. I try my best to stay by his side and keep him away, but I can’t coddle him. I refuse to baby my baby. There’s-

A sudden weight on her shoulders interrupted her writing. “Whatcha writing, Tulip?” her boy said in a sing-song voice. She lifted her arms up to grab onto the ones around her. “Oh, nothing too important,” she tilted her head up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Mituna giggled and rubbed his face in her hair. She laughed, pushing the arms off her and getting up. “Wanna watch another movie? I’ll watch with you this time,” she asked, hugging him close. She felt those same awkward lanky arms wrap around her. “Nah, let’ss play Trollio Kart,” he said.

“Flushed for you,”

“Flushshed for you tooo,”

#homestuck #mituna captor #latula pyrope #mitula #latuna #dancestors #homestuck fanfic #hs mituna #hs latula

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auxanges · 4 years

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tresses, stresses, princesses

my fic entry for @seadwellerzine in all its emo introspective teen idle glory. it was my first time writing meenah centric fic so enjoy and all that

BUT HEY. do you like fish? like real non-2d alien fish? if so please consider throwing a couple bucks to the coral reef alliance when you download the zine! surfs up binches

You are four and three quarter sweeps and standing in front of the floor-length mirror in your ablution block. There is a twinkle in your eye that some trolls mistake for a squint. There is a knife in your left hand; in your right, a fistful of curls.

The reflection heaves a sigh and says, “This is seariously dumb.”

Ain’t that the truth.

She’s shorter than you would like, your reflection, with skinny ankles that make her jewelry clink quietly. (Most things underwater are quiet, but that’s another problem to unpack later.) Her hair is halfway to her elbows, and when you let go of the locks in your hand they kinda drift back into place like seagrass. There are many more feet above her to the top of the mirror, and you have to tip your head back to look at where the tines of )(er diadem would reach.

You sigh, again, and wave away the bubbles that float up in its wake. The knife disappears into your sylladex. You have a stint at conchmunity service you’ll be late for if you keep brooding like this, even if it is, at least for the time being, one of your more versatile hobbies.

Nofin really reminds you of the endless possibilities of your eternity like not being able to try any of it.

Barely after breaching five you find yourself swimming against the current of a whirlpool, stretching your fledgling curse vocabulary as far as it will go. Now and again it sucks you back a waves, and you set your jaw and flex your feet and kick and kick.

Eventually, the current dies away, and you float on your back all the way to shore, staring at the moons, breathing hard. Your hair snakes out around you, black as the sky you’re under and twice as heavy. Sometimes you have dreams about something yanking you by the roots to the white-sanded bottom of your domain, where the pressure will squeeze at your fins and your bones will bend like mangled driftwood. Pain, you think on evenings you wake up from those visions, is something you don’t mind being acquainted with, as long as it’s on your watch.

Speaking of which.

You stomp, barefoot and dripping, into the unassuming halls of the secretarial wing. The tealblood clacking away at the husktop looks up. “Miss Peixes,” she chirps, a little unsure. Unsure teals are rare, and you don’t pity this one. “You’re done earlier than expected. Did, um, did you want your scores?”

“Don’t fuckin try me, penpusher,” you reply pleasantly, sloshing past.

She trips over her seely protocols. “Do you have an appointment?”

“That sounds like tryin me!”

You push open the door, your slowly drying curls leaving puddles in your wake.

Of course s)(e isn’t there. You’re greeted by one of her cohorts, some placid goldie who, by the looks of it, has outlived his expectations by several decades. Neither of you acshelly acknowledges the other.

He says, “You don’t have an appointment.”

You say, “You don’t have fuckin eyeballs.”

“That’s fair.” He stands from his desk, stretching. He’s lanky; you think of another psion kid you know, growing into his limbs like it’s a coddamn race. “Here to leave )(er a message?”

“Yup.”

“Lay it on me.” The psion waves a hand, bored, and all the adrenaline you thought you had expended in the whirlpool comes back to flood your chest cavity.

You cross your arms. “Shore.” A deep breath, a faint, not-at-all frustrated pop of your gills. “What in the fresh frozen hell is the point?”

He opens his mouth like he wants to interrupt you already. You plough onward. “I don’t wanna hear that lifesaving capability bullship or whatebber it’s called this week. Okay? It ain’t my fault a couple dipshits go past the safety line. You expect me to give a fuck about these idiots who can’t defend themselves from half our glubbin planet?!”

The psion looks at you to the best of his ability and says, matter-of-factly, “Yup.”

“Fuck you, old man. I have betta shit to do than wriggler-sit drowning starry-eyed morons. I have moar impoartant”— ick, the same pun twice in a row, you’re slipping — “things on my plate if I’m gonna make any difference ever. So sorry if my pump biscuit don’t bleed like a hemophilic lobster.”

Even a mock apology does not sit well between your fangs. Who the shell are you, princess in name and queen in dramatics, to be sorry?

He rattles out a very long sigh, and you realize with a start that you may have a thing or two in common. “I’ll pass along your complaint. Anything else?”

“No,” you grumble.

Your hair is drying in frizzy clumps against your fins; the knife stays on your dresser when you drag your ass hive and flop facefirst into your coon, and let yourself dream.

“Nah, I get you,” Cronus is saying from somewhere in your curls. “The ocean’s a prison with a high salt content. Our shackles are just particularly shiny.”

You’re a league away from six and Cronus Ampora does not get you even a little bit. His hands are more graceful than yours, though, and you let him attempt to comb your mane and half-listen while he prattles on about the liberty of things lower than you.

“I ain’t talkin aboat the ocean, picklebrains. I mean this whole…this.” You wave your hands in broad semicircles at your sides.

His fins cock forward, attentive, before he can do his stupid thing where he tries to suppress it. “You’re losin me.”

“I’m naut! You just don’t get it. No one could possibly get this except )(er, and it was )(er stupid mandates that put me here in the first place!” You twist in your chair, and Cronus glubs at you in protest when your hair swallows his comb. “I have fuckin millennia to squander watchin over ungrateful shits who can’t even spell the damn word.”

“Bein fair, Meen, it’s a complex jumble of letters.”

“Whose side are you on, buoy?!”

Cronus frees the comb back from your hair, sticking the end in his mouth. Ew. “What other choice you got?”

“When I find it, I’ll be shore to let you minnow,” you lie.

He does not call you on it, and works the tangles out while you watch the moon from your window, too familiar a colour for comfort.

Until, one of its cycles later, you figure it out.

“I figured it out.”

Cronus looks up from the instrument he’s tuning. He’s a decent singer but a terrible tuner: you don’t ever mention the former and work the latter into several conversations. “Figured what out?”

“What I’m supposed to do.”

He twists the peg closest to him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. When you were younger, you would snap and bite at each other with restless energy. Now, you…well, you still kinda do, if at a slowed pace—Cronus pushes your buttons passively, like an itch just outta reach. You long for the kind of synchronicity that’s been leaking moar and moar into your daydreams.

The prawnblem that you have finally acknowledged, at least for your immediate future, is that this synchronicity doesn’t exist, not where Meenah Peixes is concerned.

You lean forward in your chair and stare yourself down. Your ‘do, untamed, takes up most your respiteblock mirror’s width, leaving you with no silhouette that is truly your own.

“Make yourshellf useful, will you?” you call behind you.

Cronus finally wrenches his attention from the penned rose-coloured garbage he’s turning into a paper wingbeast. His feet barely make a noise as he hunts down ties; his genes are wasted on him, and the both of you agree on this for entirely different reefsons.

You haven’t braided your hair since you were two. Back then, they were stumpy, and lopsided, and when hatchmates pulled on them you chomped just a tiny bit on their limbs before a guardian wrestled you politely away. Now, as Cronus twists em good and even, his tee shirt collar adorned in bobby pins, you run your tongue over your fangs.

Your features are more prominent; you can’t tell if that’s from the braids pulling your hair away or cause you’re coming on another moult, but your eyes behind your glasses are darker, your cheekbones are sprayed in pinkish freckles. You look, tragically, like a princess.

“Done,” says Cronus, snapping an elastic and reaching in his pocket for a smoke. He offers you the pack, and you grimace until it disappears again.

Yes, you think. “I gotta go. I’ll text ya.”

He shows himself out, his guitar slung over one broadening shoulder. You don’t watch him, already busy cramming shit into your sylladex—husktop, charger packs, clothes, shiny shit, whatever your current impulsivity decrees to be required. When all is done, you find your best stationary and spend ten minutes bedazzling FUCK DIS SHIT IM OUT and taping it to your door as you ride the current to the nearest spaceport.

Never let it be said that you don’t know how to make an exit.

Not long after your sixth wriggling day is etched into your bones, you will find something lodged in one of the craters some miles outside your hideout. Ain’t much else to do on the moon but explore, after all—a blank slate domain is still a domain that you much preefer to your old lot.

You will fuck around with the conchtraption until it boots up, and then you will send an ill-fated message to an ill-fated gill about another, somehow blanker slate.

CC: guess w)(at

AG: If I start guessing, will you block me again?

CC: o)( s)(ip youre probubbly rig)(t

CC: fine ill save you the trouble

-- CromwellsCosmos (CC) has sent AftwardGraces (AG) a file! --

AG: ::::O

CC: you fuckin know it

You will be nine years old and staring your death in the face, and the sea will be light years away, and you will raise your face to the sky you raised into being. Your braids will touch the ground, and probably get some blood or somefin gross on the tips, and when you burst free of the last of your planetside bonds you’ll think, maybe there is some truth to lifesaving, if it’s yours.

AG: What do you want me to do with it?

CC: pass it on du)(

CC: were aboat to do somefin AW-ESOM-E

-- CromwellsCosmos (CC) has disconnected! --

#seazine #meenah peixes #homestuck fanfiction #f cronus and aranea because its my fic and i love to cause problems on purpose #auxfic

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chimericarchitect · 4 years

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> It is with no great pomp or circumstance that Saness plops herself down onto the rug in the livingroom of her old favorite place, cardboard box in tow. "Old" favorite place, because, while the transition was strange at first, a bit frightening and gradual after sweeps of isolation, she can no longer love this place of solitude above the home she'd built with her pitch. Dulled vines frame the trellis outside the bay window, gleaming white with snow along their frozen ends. In the warm season they will bloom, a thick sway of color and life on the other side of a perfect pane of glass, but tonight they are silent and still. It is not snowing, and in turn the frozen sky has opened up, an impossible shifting fractal of unnaturally intertwined segments, each rippling and changing with mirrored stars from a carefully selected number of galaxies. Glacial flurries blow down from the tops of slumbering plants in the unstable flux and glow of starlight, whirls and whorls tracing their way low to the buried path. It is a magnificent view to be sure, but the wonders of her manufactured paradise do not hold her attention. Outside is a place of cold and silence, but inside the hive this night, it is a place of great warmth.

> She curls her legs beneath her, a basket of limbs with which to cradle her treasure, and traces the lid with a claw and a sigh. There isn't anything fancy about it, it's just some garbage shoebox lifted from a garbage TV series, but that's part of the magic, isn't it? It is an artifact of the mundane, of which she has managed to become a part. It is symbolic and indicative of the contents, a simple pleasure. Saness removes the lid and begins picking through the collection of postcards contained within, reading the backs, admiring the handwriting, scrutinizing the pictures on the front...

> She plucks out a pair of novelty sunglasses from this box of gifts and, after a moment of inspection, puts them on, a hot pink filter over the reflective gleam of uncanny lime. When revisiting memories, one really ought to ~get in the zone~ she thinks.

> It is an idle process, slow in the undertaking. What are these places like? Did Meenah write on the back of these one by one each night, or were they cranked out in batches? Did Mituna think anything of it, all of these souvenirs just for you? Did Meenah? Were they selected at random, or did she think you would like these things? And of course, the lipstick prints... those keep Saness's attention in lingering snatches, transfixed by the shape and nature of their being, further transfixed by her greedy thoughts. By the time she has gone through the contents of her precious parcel, an eccentric amount of ornamentation is decorating her form. A staggered stack of souvenir sunglasses are clattering around her horns, threatening to spill off the twists of dandelion hair as she shifts to her knees, her chest nearly armored with layered tacky t-shirt padding. The state of her being dawns on her as Saness sets the box on the ground with a squint, imagining somebody arriving in her hive at just this moment. How utterly absurd she would appear, decked out in touristy trinkets from places she has never been.

> Not that it matters. It is fashion of the heart and she shall not be deterred by ghosts of the mind, not when she has just reached the end of the box. No one will see this, thank you very much.

> Gingerly, delicately, surrounded by a half-ring of postcards, Saness removes the final item: a paper sleeve, that when opened reveals the polaroid print of Meenah and Mituna sharing a peaceful smile. Inconspicuous human faces with familiar features, the Knowing of it... Looking at them, the fuzzy feeling in Saness's chest tweaks with a pang of melancholy, just a little.

> They are so close. They are family. They seem so content in this snapshot, this flash of encapsulated time.

> It's a beautiful thing.

> Saness flops onto her back, photograph in her outstretched hand. The helpless tower of sunglasses falls around her head in a halo of shitty plastic, another wistful sigh in her throat to match the whistle of a lonely breeze outdoors. Here, inside, she feels warm. Here, inside, she feels happy. Meenah is talking to her again, seemingly back to normal. It is a kindness that soothes the ache of having missed her, a balm against the fears and theatrics even if Saness still cannot visit her friend.

> After all, so long as the people she loves are happy, what more could Saness ask for?

#ooc eyes only #saness does a thing #long post

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maneaterpeixes · 5 years

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(Public Vore) Swallow down a big tiddy Latula right as she was accepting a game award on stage~ (omnipointmuses)

Meenah stood on stage, her fatass easily visible from behind the podium. “And finally, first place prize of t)(e annual Troll Pro Skater 4 competition goes to...Latula Pyrope!” The heiress said, the crowd cheering as she walked out, Latula cheering to the crowd as well, her massive tits bouncing up and down with each step and skip, nearly slapping herself in the face once or twice as Meenah took a step back, letting the big titted teal blood take the stage, resting her breasts on the podium as she began her speechHowever, halfway through said speech, her face was moved down into her own cleavage as Meenah lifted her body up, forcing her head into her breasts, muffling her as the heiress opened her mouth and began swallowing Latula feet first, slowly slipping the teal blood’s body further and further into her mouth and down her throat, the crowd gasping in shock as their gaming celebrity was slowly devoured by the host. Latula just flailed her arms, barely able to breath as more of her descended into Meenah’s body.Though eventually Meenah hit Latula’s chest, the sizable beanbags halted her devouring of the E-Celeb, Meenah let out a disappointed groan and stretched her mouth as far as she could, chomping down slightly on the breast meat, using her hands to move more of it into her ravenous maw, Latula just barely able to look around till the last of her breasts were engulfed, freeing her head for just a moment before Meenah reached up, grabbed her head, and, with one good shove, stuffed her head and the rest of her into her mouth and swallowed hard, depositing the winner into her already churning stomach.“O)(, sorry, it actually said “Meena)( Peixes” )(ow strange~” She laughed, slapping her gut as she grabbed the trophey, about to walk off-stage until a large pressure rose up from her stomach, her cheeks puffed out as she turned to the mic and let out an absolutely gigantic and room shaking belch, busting several speakers and most of the audience’s eardrums, Latula’s glasses rocketed out of her mouth and onto the head of some lucky fan, the last memento of the gamer as Meenah shuffled off stage, hoping SHE’D get some of that tit meat for her own...

#omnipointmuses #Anonymous

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

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Homestuck Liveblog #183

UPDATE 183: Narrative Takeover

Last time everything went wrong for so many characters. John’s fight with Caliborn went awry, Jane’s plan to seduce Jake didn’t work because he kept thinking of Dirk, and Dave and Karkaroni’s political strategy meeting got derailed by Jade deciding it was a good time for romantic overtures. So now let’s continue.

So, now that they have been dumped in middle of the chaos that’s destroying all the known existence and reality, John checks the situation. Lord English is up there, in front of the black hole, seemingly impervious to its strong absorbing effect.

Unlike his younger form, his eyes aren’t flickering wildly. They’re locked in place, an eight ball in each socket.

If I remember correctly from the booklet about pool I read like six years ago when I started playing pool for fun, the eighth ball is the last one you must sink, so I’d say it indicates it’s endgame. I think it also had happened in Arc 7. Symbolism!

Tavros is over there, leading an army, Vriska is nowhere to be seen and presumably is very dead, and Meenah was supposed to be going away, I think? Anyway, it’s fight time! Everyone already has their weapons at the ready – all the weapons that are supposed to hit Lord English pretty hard – and Rose tries to remind them what exactly their plan is. She barely gets a single word out before she’s dead.

But Rose doesn’t get to finish what she was trying to say. Lord English’s mouth roars open and a wave of energy blasts through your group. Rose is the only one caught in it. She dissolves in slow motion. You can see the outline of her body in shadow. One arm thrown up over her eyes, shoulders pulled up defensively, cape billowing out behind her. She leaves an afterimage of shimmering light in her wake and then dissipates, drifting apart like a handful of salt tossed out to sea. You can almost hear the cosmic clock counting down, tick tock, and a chime to accompany her fate: Heroic.

This fight lasted like three seconds before it all looked grim as heck for John and friends. This is going to wreck everyone’s morale and ruin whatever effective plan they had, as I really doubt Rose was supposed to stand aside and let everybody else act. They’re so doomed.

As if to underscore how screwed they are, Jade tries to use her powers and finds out the black hole up there is where the green sun used to be. It made Lord English vulnerable, but she’s powerless now too. Whooops. Kind of a big oversight. How didn’t John or Future Rose foresee that detail? It’s kind of important!

With that, two of the four are now dead and they haven’t gotten started for real. Dave is trying to cut Lord English with the cueball sword, John is...standing around, I suppose, until he snaps out of it and surrounds Lord English with wind, capturing him until he tries to smash his skull with the hammer. Lord English eats the hammer. I’m...okay, I didn’t see that coming. I appreciate the move a lot. John can’t do much else because his glasses are broken, so he can’t see well at all. Good thing Meenah is around now! What a lifesaver!

Time to assess the situation and check how badly things have turned in...like a minute or so. As I always say: a minute is quite a long time in a fight!

Ghostly Tavros and another one of John’s hammers join the list of casualties, Meenah deciding to go in for the kill. Not unless you turn into Dave, gal! Not that Dave is faring much better, he’s trying to harm Lord English but he’s way too fast, even for Dave, who is no slouch in the agility department. That’s incredibly quick, and he’s not fueled by the green sun right now. Everything is awful for the heroes here!

Meenah is launched away and I can only guess she’s dead, because in this scenario being thrown away is kind of fatal due to the huge black hole up there. Dave is under Lord English’s foot, John barely saves him by throwing more hammer at Lord English for him to eat, and tries to set up a hammer barrier to prepare that silly thing he made with the legendary Zillyhoo and Vriska’s dice. If they need a lucky hit they sure need it now!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < waaaaaaaaaaaait

...oooooooh no. I had completely forgotten this existed. Hey, what’s new? Will you be able to defeat Lord English? At least Dave is reacting with horror, which is the right reaction when you see a copy of yourself that was merged with a cat. Davepetasprite is being inspirational, trying to psyche up Dave, and it works!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i know it looks pawful right now but we can do it

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in fact were literally the only ones who can do it

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < after all

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < it is our destiny B33

You also are the last three people left here, so I don’t think it’s much about destiny at this point.

Somehow, between the three of them they manage to do real damage on this monster. John’s hitting him with hammers even if Lord English keeps eating them, Dave slashes and actually gets blood, and Davepeta scratches with the claws. The cycle continues, Lord English almost eats John’s favorite hammer, just that this time he almost gets John himself. Well then. This story is truly something.

Apparently John got injured with Lord English’s teeth or something, because he’s bleeding heavily. I swear, if John dies because he got bitten by Lord English I’m going to be astonished, because that was never a cause of death I imagine would ever happen.

You lift your chin and see it: Lord English’s gold tooth cracked off at the base and embedded in your chest. It must be stuck between two of your ribs, you think, because it hurts like a bitch when you try to breathe.

Oof, you’re in big trouble! When you have something embedded into you you really shouldn’t take it out unless you’re in a professional’s hands, so it’s pretty likely John will have that tooth embedded into him for quite a while. Dave isn’t doing too badly, managing to stab Lord English with the cueball sword up the hilt, unfortunately leaving him vulnerable to Lord English’s maw. Oh god, he has tasted human blood, everyone run! Too late for Dave, though, he gets his head bitten off.

Won’t lie, that’s pretty brutal as far as deaths go. Damn!

Obviously this enrages Davepeta, who grabs Lord English and flies up to the black hole, dragging him along. That was an option? Maybe it’d have been great to have done that much earlier, before Dave died. Really would have been nice.

The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English home.

English and Davepeta are sucked in with a subatomic whimper. The reunion sends shock waves across the pitiful remains of Paradox Space. And then everything is wholly, utterly, and categorically silent. It’s over. Lord English is dead.

Ding dong, the witch is dead. Somehow it’s done! Excellent! Now, here comes opinions about this whole sequence.

To be perfectly honest, this left a lot to be desired. The least of my complaints is the length – for a climactic fight it’s a little bit short. Which isn’t really a problem here, given this isn’t Homestuck anymore, it’s the epilogue. The fight not getting focus is fine and dandy, honestly. I’m actually surprised we got a fight at all.

What I will complain about, though, is that for something that pretty much only Davepeta got to do something worthwhile. It feels like pretty much everyone else who intervened, both alive and dead, were there just to die. It’s pretty disappointing, really. I think I’d have been okay with that if they at least had managed to do something before dying.

Curiously enough, if this had been incorporated into the story, characters dying so fast would have been less bad. I’d say this being part of epilogues is what makes this be treated differently to how it’d be otherwise. But yeah, Lord English is dead, and there’s plenty of epilogue left. I suppose that means the political stuff is what’ll fill the rest of the epilogue in this route, no?

You collapse against whatever is passing for the floor at this moment of utterly null corporeal conditions surrounding you. It doesn’t feel possible. You’re not sure you can even trust your perception well enough to believe it. But it seems to be over. You’ve convinced yourself of this truth well enough to allow yourself to exhale. Enough to allow yourself to suddenly acknowledge the agony coursing through your body, emanating from the gold tooth lodged in your chest. Enough to allow yourself to succumb to the overwhelming urge to sleep.

He’s so dead. And so, all the Wonderkids are dead, total party kill. They tried and they succeeded, mostly thanks to a timely intervention by what turned out to be the best sprite just for killing Lord English, and now they’re all dead. I’m pretty sure by now this makes Homestuck qualify as a Greek tragedy.

Ah, there’s the conversation Rose and Dirk are going to have. She starts by talking about that novel she wrote in her diaries, the ones about wizards. She feels the story as written by the adult Rose Dirk knew from his original world didn’t have as much passion as she did when she wrote the original draft in her journals. Maybe! When you write something for a widespread public, you have to kill a liiiiittle of your own passion to tailor it for a wider audience. It’s a cynical thought, I admit, but I believe I’m right.

ROSE: Anyway, my point is that I’ve long suspected my story was a pre-manifestation of my Seer of Light powers. I was seeing beyond my universe into another.

Doesn’t sound farfetched to me, I must say. It’s possible that, from her early ages, she was unconsciously starting to tap onto the many powers and abilities that come with her title and role. I mean, Mom Lalonde was there, and I believe in her own way she’d help pave the way for the kids to achieve what was needed to triumph. She may have done something, inadvertently or not, that led to Rose writing her novel in a fit of inspiration. Who knows. Certainly not me, and it’s such a minuscule point in the vast net of Homestuck I doubt it’ll be ever touched.

I hadn’t noticed until now that in the end a total of twelve players had crossed the door into the new universe. Fun number for that. Also, Terezi’s name is among them, so she did get to the new universe after all. What happened to her?

All these numbers may or may not have significance. Hah! Well it depends on what kind of author writes the story. Given it’s Hussie, well, I’m inclined towards thinking there’s some significance. Whether the reader will find out about it is an entirely different manner, of course.

Of course Dirk has given his current situation a lot of thought, he even has theories about what’s it. I’m listening, pal, enlighten me about this new plotline.

DIRK: I mean, some of us have stopped using our powers completely. Not a whole lot of need for emergency resurrections or complex timeline manipulation on a planet that’s never had a conflict more serious than a sportsball riot or a rumpled hat shortage.

DIRK: But even aside from how often they’re used...

DIRK: Some powers don’t lend themselves to the infinite expansion of one’s mind, the way ours do.

ROSE: I see.

ROSE: So what you’re saying is, it’s more a matter of one’s aspect than it is whether one’s powers are practiced further, or allowed to atrophy.

DIRK: Yep.

So it all depends on the power. It’s not like everyone’s going to start suffering this too, it seems to be limited to what aspect it is. Perhaps Jade and Dave would go through this too? Other than them, I’m not sure anyone else would.

ROSE: In that case, perhaps Terezi had the right idea.

ROSE: Getting away from this place, I mean.

ROSE: Maybe I was a fool for imagining I could settle down here.

Ah, so that’s what happened to Terezi. She left. Maybe she had a feeling things wouldn’t go well, it does make sense she’d be feeling the awfulness Dirk and Rose feel right now. With her Mind aspect, it does make sense she would. Where’d she go, though? Is she a nomad around the world or something?

Dirk’s taking this easier than most would because he’s used to multitasking. Ah, right, he did have his dreamself and his realself, dealing with both must have given him some practice. Still, two is nowhere close to the infinity of everything, so I’m skeptic it’s as good of a training as he says it was.

ROSE: I’m caught in the liminal space between reality and reverie, where people once believed demons dwelled. But the only reason the demon is still sitting on my chest is because I refuse to banish it. All it would take is looking directly at it.

ROSE: I’m forcing myself to stumble through my life as a sleepwalker. All this pain and sorrow could go away if I would just allow myself to wake up.

DIRK: Then why don’t you?

ROSE: Because I’m not sure that the person opening her eyes will be me.

Brings to mind that about us being someone’s dream and, when that someone wakes up, it’s all over. It’s the kind of thing that brings existential crisis when you think about it too hard, isn’t it? So, if Rose here’s experiencing something similar, she’s not going to have a good time because she’s the kind of person who thinks a lot. Nobody should be jealous of these two, that’s awful.

Dirk, in what’s unusually close to sympathy, crouches and takes off his sunglasses, looking straight at Rose’s eyes. He admits he’s a very flawed person and shouldn’t be always right, and that he knows all about his own flaws.

Rose’s eyes have grown distant, almost mirrorlike. Dirk can see himself reflected in her vacant stare.

ROSE: All the pieces in their place.

ROSE: The mechanisms all running smoothly.

She says this in a hollow tone. It’s the disarming voice a puppeteer ventriloquizes for a marionette.

...okaaaay, something happened. If I’m understanding this and the next few sentences correctly, Dirk pretty much took over Rose. I don’t know why, he just did. Althoooough...hm. It’s still early. Maybe the reasons will be revealed later. But hey, you can’t say this was predicted! Also, if I had to guess, the moment Rose was taken over was when he took off his sunglasses. It just makes sense, really.

Whyyyy is the text turning orange. Dirk, are you taking over the narration?

Yup, he did, and he’s addressing the reader. He sounds pretty bitter there are readers, and brags about he can make the reader’s perspective change and turn into a character’s perspective. No complaints from me for you doing that, really, be my guest.

But I haven’t revealed myself to you just to boast about the abilities arising from the gradual obliteration of the constraints on my consciousness. I’ve only taken a moment to answer a few questions. Not ones I heard you ask—because again, you are nonspecific and therefore do not matter—but ones I imagined you asking. And by imagining these questions, they became less fake, and as such, demanded similarly non-fake answers. No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get down to fucking business.

Eh. Sounds to me like Dirk wants to ramble and wants an excuse to do so, even if he has to make that excuse himself. Golly, pal, you have free control of the narrative. Ramble all you want, go ahead.

To continue the narrative, John has to wake up and does so. I suppose he being sleepy and exhausted after the fight was just he being sleepy and exhausted instead of being borderline dead because of blood loss. Dirk forces the narrative to make John apologize to no one for everything that happened in the battle, and it’s all so heavy-handed even John notices something’s going on with his head. Dirk, you’re not doing a very good job at being subtle.

Suddenly you remember: Lord English’s tooth is still embedded in your chest. You panic, wrap your hands around the base, and give it a little tug. It’s excruciating. The tooth makes an awful grating sound as it grinds along one of your ribs. You gasp and lose your grip, biting the inside of your mouth so hard that you taste blood.

Can’t blame you for trying, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Without someone to administer proper medical care, you’ll bleed to death pretty much instantly.

Yeah, exactly! Not that there’s anyone to administer proper medical care in the middle of literal nowhere, so he’ll have to transport himself somewhere else before he touches that tooth any further. Where’s John, anyway? Is he still lying around underneath the black hole? Did he zap himself somewhere else?

On the other hand, the tooth is poisoned. So you’re pretty much fucked either way, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.

Oh. That’s a thing now? Well then, guess you’re screwed, John. Thanks for everything, have a nice death. I suppose it would count as a heroic death because he received that fatal wound fighting someone who was obliterating reality, so being revived isn’t an option, I suppose.

John wanders around for a very long time, depressed and feeling pretty awful, until he sees Dad Egbert’s wallet. It’s a coincidence to find it anywhere in the infinite expanse of reality! John opens the wallet, aaaaand...end page! Quick, make a distraction and go check some other place. It’s the usual Homestuck style, so that’s what happens.

Jade’s explaining Dave and Karkaroni’s political ambitions to Roxy and Calliope, once again using the terms ‘neoliberal austerity measures’. I’m still unsure what that’s supposed to mean, but whatever it is makes Roxy groan, no doubt because she has heard about said measures too much already. They’re bad, and Karkaroni’s underdog populism is the counter to those, she argues. Give him a chance! Unfortunately for Elect-a-Troll 20xx, it doesn’t seem like Calliope and Roxy are very interested in getting involved in this at all.

ROXY: i just dont rly

ROXY: care about politics that much i guess

I suppose this means she’s not going to support Jane either. Hey, better for her to not be interested than for her to be on the opposite side. This is a victory of some sort.

She’s reticent to supporting anyone not only because she’s not interested in politics, but also because it’s a fight between her friends and she sure isn’t eager to going against a friend. She also knows this is something Jane has been planning for a long time, so she’s not into ruining Jane’s plans – even though she won’t really go out and say she supports Jane. I really disagree Jane is fragile, though. She’s anything but fragile.

In the spirit of full disclosure, Roxy’s the only one left I haven’t been able to crack. Her mind remains a total enigma to me, just like it always has. If I had to guess, it’s her Void powers that make her invisible, even to increasingly omniscient parties such as myself. For all intents and purposes, it’s like her thoughts don’t exist. She’s the same person, as far as I can tell. She still wears her heart on her sleeve. But the bottom line remains: Roxy Lalonde is still utterly fucking inscrutable.

Which is a very good thing for her. I wonder if this means Dirk would be unable to do anything with the narration involving Roxy, if she’s invisible for even the increasingly omniscient parties. In that case, she’s the luckiest person in this entire canon. Good thing, too, given how Dirk is a fervent supporter of Jane, so he can’t manipulate her into doing anything.

Roxy’s staying out, but what about Calliope? She doesn’t want any of this either, because it’d be stressful as all hell and that’s a very valid reason to not want to get involved in politics, especially if it’s between competing friends. At least Jade understands well enough and doesn’t insist.

Apparently Roxy asking Jade to call both Calliope and her by ‘them’ throws Dirk off to the point he has to hastily say aloud he doesn’t care and that he’s very okay with this, you guys, it’s totally okay. I don’t know, when this kind of thing is written or said like he did I can only think that person is indeed not okay with it. Dirk really should stop his rambling for once before he shoves his feet deeper into his mouth.

For a person that’s starting to be omniscient and spent an entire page mocking the reader and being vainglorious he sure is pretty concerned with keeping up the appearances.

ROXY: i mean what am i gonna do

ROXY: get married and pop out 100 bbs?

I mean, with ectobiology that’s far easier and simpler than you make it sound. You don’t even have to get married for that.

I choose to believe Dirk has gotten so flustered by the conversation about Roxy and Calliope being non-binary he chose to make Jade be unconscious. He had to stop the conversation somehow, so he made her do astral plane stuff. Smooth, Dirk, smooth as a brick.

I may as well stop here for the time being.

Next update: next time

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #webcomics #liveblog #webcomic liveblog

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ezee-street · 5 years

Note

Fluffy kurloz ❤️ kankri fic? Maybe with Kurloz picking up Kankri or tickling him? The tag is, deprived

Here you go, I hope is suffices your need!

Kurloz sighed as gazed up at the starlight sky. It was a third night in on the road trip that Meenah had somehow talked him and eleven other’s into going. Some people he knew and was pretty comfortable with and some others..were not so great. He had pulled away from where they were basically camping out for the night to have a smoke by himself, think about existential shit and all. However as he made his way through the brush to where he thought he’d be alone, Kankri Vantas was sitting there, on the edge of a deep divot in the terrain, staring up at the sky.Great. So now he was going to have to find somewhere else to be alone. He began to walk behind and past the other, only to step on a stick with a loud crack, which he thought nothing off. Kankri on the other hand jumped as if someone had fired a gun off next to his ear. Kurloz then watched, wide eyed as Kankri tumbled down into the divot and let out a pained groan. Oh god damn it.With a huff Kurloz went to the edge of the divot then carefully made his way down. If he could actually talk he would’ve told the other to shut up his moans of pain already. Kurloz stood over him, a brow raised as he offered the other his hand.Kankri looked up at him, face wet from shocked tears and covered in dirt and small scratches. Jesus. Shakily Kankri took his hand,”Kurloz I-” The Vantas went to stand only to give another moan of pain,”My ankle..I think I..I think I sprained it.” He looked to the top of the divot,”How am I going to get out of here?”What a drama queen. Kurloz huffed, scooping the other up into his arms with ease. He supposed he did owe the other a little bit, having been the one who spooked the other in the first place. By the time he had reached the top of the divot once again Kankri was sniffling and his face was red, probably from embarrassment and frustration. He made his way back to the vehicles, his own parked furthest away from everyone elses and by the looks of it everyone was fast asleep at the moment.Kurloz opened his trunk and laid the seats back and covered them with pillows and blankets with a huff, holding Kankri in one arm all the while. He wasn’t even that strong, Kankri was just light as hell. Once the back of the vehicle had been set up Kurloz set Kankri down and opened a first aid kit he had packed away. Kankri hadn’t spoken yet. Kurloz wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t wake anyone else or because he was still embarrassed. Whatever. Kurloz tended to the others ankle, then turned his attention to Kankri’s face again. Yeesh. He grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned up the other’s face in silence.“Thank you Kurloz.” Kankri’s voice was shaky and raw. Kurloz let out a huff through his nose, signing,’you should sleep’“I..yeah.” He looked over to the car he had been riding in with Cronus and Meenah,”Would you mind if I slept in here? It gets kinda cramped with Cronus and Meenah in the car.”Kurloz shrugged, then gave a nod, laying back in the car, after closing the back door. “Thank you Kurloz.”He nodded and laid back, closing his eyes. Kurloz soon felt Kankri laying next to him..He didn’t think too much of it. That was until Kankri was softly snoring and nuzzling against his chest. Okay then. Was kinda nice though. He wouldn’t lie. Maybe he’d let the other share the vehicle more often.

#homestuck #kurkri #kurloz makara #kankri vantas #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction requests #quick fic

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

Text

HS Epi: Meat p23&24 reaction

So, uh, how about that Meenah, huh?

---

I'd actually wager she's not collaborating with Alt Calliope, just intent on confronting her solo, logic be damned. Then again, assuming Alt Calliope's really evil, if she has a silver tongue* she might have made Meenah a convincing offer, don't mind that she wants to consume all and everything. *Figuratively, since she should have a white tongue - although, consuming Caliborn might have changed that, I guess?

As for what the next page might hold - I'd like it that Kanaya, Dave and Karkat would band together and go to Dirk's place. But it's just as likely Dirk will get back to Kanaya nigh-instantaneous after narrating this last part. And he might just influence them into dropping their suspicion, for now.

---

"KANAYA: Why Are You With Rose KANAYA: What Is Going On" Ah, well, so he really did only spent an acceptable amount of time keeping Kanaya on hold. Just enough to pen down what happened to John. ... He won't pretend he's righting John-fanfiction to cover up his previous remark about John & the plot, now, will he? :P

"DIRK: Why would you think something was going on?

DIRK: By which I mean, why would you automatically assume that what’s going on has a sinister overtone.

KANAYA: Did I Say That I Suspected Something Sinister Was Going On

DIRK: Not with your words, no." ... I didn't realize, but because Dirk and Rose are so similar in demeanor, it's basically time to dust off ye olde flight-broads-and-their-horseshitometer, isn't it? There's going to be a bit of back and forth here, for sure.

"DIRK: But in the grand scheme of things, isn’t something always “going on”? Why would you even ask “what is going on” if you didn’t assume that the thing going on was both abnormal and untoward.

KANAYA: Well Now I Definitely Think That Something Sinister Is Going On Because You Are Obviously Trying To Distract Me With Semantics" "Phrasing!" is not something Kanaya is focusing on when people might be in jeopardy. Nice try, Dirk.

"DIRK: A tactic I’m sure you’re familiar with.

KANAYA: Excuse Me

DIRK: I’m just making an observation. You know your wife pretty well.

KANAYA: ...

DIRK: You know all of her tricks, all her little personality quirks. You’re confident that you know everything about her.

DIRK: But for some reason, you have no idea where she is right now." ... Is he trying to make Rose look guilty of something now? ... I would almost think he's trying to bluff his way out with his omniscience, but Kanaya's actually not going to take it well if he demonstrates he knows more than he should.

"KANAYA: Why Dont We Start This Conversation Over Again And You Can Say The Correct Thing This Time" "KANAYA: Hello

KANAYA: Excuse Me But I Would Like To Speak With My Wife Rose

KANAYA: Whose Phone I Do Believe I Am Calling

KANAYA: As Even These Primitive Human Smartphones Have Acceptably Accurate Caller ID Technology" This is Kanaya at her best. Longwinded and accidentally(?) sarcastic.

"DIRK: Sorry, Rose can’t come to the phone right now.

DIRK: She is otherwise... /occupied/.

KANAYA: Where Is She

DIRK: She’s at my place.

KANAYA: Im Sorry What

KANAYA: Rose Is Extremely Ill And Should Not Be Leaving The House Alone

KANAYA: What Is She Doing At Your Place" Rose didn't seem bothered by Dirk's request to come over, but that might have just been her overestimating herself. Plus, Dirk claimed he had a solution to her condition. I don't think the solution is getting her to fall asleep. Unless it gives her time to readjust, but then why wouldn't her pills have helped? I also don't think he's induced a situation where Rose is in a sort of trance, a dreambubble-like dream, communicating with her alternate selves while she absorbs their knowledge. Would be a fun conversation to read, though.

"DIRK: Chillaxing, whilst we discuss the inevitable heat death of the universe and the unknowable, solitary nature of human consciousness.

KANAYA: I See" That second part may have been discussed somewhat, but it already passed. Kanaya's not going to buy this even it laid in the discount bin.

KANAYA: If She Is Capable Of Such Abstract Polemics Why Is It That She Cannot Speak With Me

DIRK: That’s a damned good question." I had NO idea Dirk was this bad a liar. Guess it was only due to his AI nature that Lil Hal was so good at it, huh?

"Kanaya loves Rose, but sometimes love just isn’t enough. Sometimes what you need is /understanding/." He can't really work his magic on her through the phone, right? ... Plus, even then, she's not a god tier, she isn't growing towards an ultimate self, why would he bother?

"KANAYA: I Am Not Making A Joke

DIRK: Me neither.

DIRK: I don’t really “do” jokes?

KANAYA: Neither Do I" Why is Dirk even pulling her leg like this, I mean, he could've lied convincingly OR told the truth, why this? ... Maybe the "understanding" bit didn't mean Dirk's trying to understand Kanaya. Maybe he means, Kanaya can't help Rose but Dirk can. But still, why all this horseshit?

"DIRK: I do often make statements which hold varying degrees of irony, acerbic wit, or dry expressions of amusement.

KANAYA: Yes That Roughly Describes Many Of The Remarks I Make As Well

DIRK: I knew you’d understand." Oh... OH!!! He wants the OTHER people to understand HIM! Somehow, that is what triggered Rose's current state?? And he's trying to make Kanaya faint as well?? But WHY?? Well, now you can start the game of "when did Kanaya's comments start sounding like Dirk's", which her quirks makes more difficult. I suppose it's already happening, when I read back. D:

"KANAYA: However My Commiseration On This Matter Should Not Be Mistaken For A Gesture Of Friendship Or Camaraderie At This Moment" This echoes Karkat's comments in the vein of "this doesn't mean that friendship is what's taking place here".

"DIRK: Then it seems we’re at an impasse." Is that true, really? Not sure if Kanaya can withstand this... whatever it is. Sympathetic linking??

"KANAYA: It Wont Be An Impasse For Very Long

KANAYA: Im Coming Over Immediately

KANAYA: To Retrieve My Wife

DIRK: If that’s what you want.

KANAYA: Tell Her That Im On My Way

DIRK: Sure. I’ll get right on that." WHAT'S YOUR GAME??? It still seems like he might stop her at the last moment, I mean. Why would he allow them to confront him?

"Rose looks up from where she’s suffering on the floor. The shadows around her are growing. She stares at me with glassy eyes.

ROSE: Is everything okay?" Wut?? She's conscious again? ... Don't tell me Dirk was, in fact, telling the truth, and while he wrote the previous scenes, he simultaneously spent time talking with Rose. That's really like a Doc Scratch thing to do, you know, holding multiple conversations at once.

"DIRK: Yeah. Just a telemarketer.

DIRK: You know how those carapacians can be when they want to sell you some chess shit.

DIRK: Impossible to get ’em off the phone." So... He's trying to talk Rose into coming to a certain understanding, then? (All the while isolating her from her loved ones.) Nothing as crude as a soulbot, he's trying to walk her through the final stages of the ultimate self? Even if she specifically stated the idea scares her? She's not well though, in pain as she is, she didn't notice who Dirk was talking to.

'The shadows around her are growing', it said about her. I suppose it's due to the hour, not an indication that her ultimate self is grimdark? I hope?

---

"The server Meenah fled through is a distant speck now." Ooh! Back to John now! Guess Rose's conversation continues in the background. Pleased to see Dirk deems his continued adventures plot-relevant enough to continue narrating after a small time skip. So uh, I guess John wasn't able to open the device himself. Otherwise he'd have wanted to get his ring back.

"It doesn’t really bother you, though. It’s not like you had any plans for it. Taking it from Aranea was, like, a bonus as far as you were concerned." Huh! I didn't think he'd be so 'meh' about it.

"Extra life ring? Nice, maybe it’ll come in handy someday. Scratch that now." I guess the whole "conditional immortality" thing kind of makes resurrection artifacts lose their shine. But Rose, I assume, had a plan for John travelling back to that moment that extended beyond "pre-emptively clock the bitch that killed my alternate self before she could do it". Well, I GUESS it could be she didn't, Terezi messed with him too through her list.

"The young Condesce has it, and is probably hatching bold new plans as we speak. Not that those plans will ever have anything to do with you." Is this John's thoughts, Dirk giving John's thoughts, or Dirk's own opinion? Does he think her plans will have something to do with himself instead of John?

"Hours and hours slip by. Your eyes starts to hurt, and the wound in your chest starts feeling numb. It’s a disconcerting combination of sensations." Okay, so the wound was still there. But is the numbness coming from it healing, slowly, or the poison? :/ I can imagine peaking at white space for so long is a drag on the eyes, especially if your glasses are in such a shoddy state. Plus he's probably getting real tired. Just as long as he doesn't realize he died at one point, when someone mentions his eyes are white. :/

"After a while you think about tending to your wound. There must be something in your dad’s wallet that you could use to bandage the gash." Well, better late than never, I guess? Though that doesn't apply to poisoned wounds...

"You eye the wallet and try to imagine what could possibly be inside it that would be of any use on a medical basis. A straight razor?" So... he did peek inside it before we skipped ahead. Guess he might not have accessed the wallet modus so much as peeked at the literal object, and found a note?

"You notice you can’t seem to make yourself care about healing yourself long enough to continue entertaining ways to MacGyver your body back to health" That the depression talking again, John? :/

"A glint of red catches your eye, just ahead. Then it’s gone. No... there it is again, another glint. It’s flickering or sparkling in some way." I don't think it's Red Miles? :P Maybe Terezi's dragon wings.

... Blaperile has a good idea, it might be the red ruby slippers. Welp. At least John might call his search for Jade over when he finds them? But that seems to go against Dirk's plan for keeping him out there, hmmm.

"What it that? You drift toward it without urgency, worried that it’s exactly what you think it might be.

You get close enough to confirm. Two small red slippers, coated in tiny gemstones." The witch has gone to the wizard's lair, but she won't be coming back from there. End poem. :/

"Jade’s empty shoes are a depressing sight, but you feel a sense of duty to retrieve them. Might as well. You secure them in the wallet, along with whatever other junk is in there." Not sure if they have any magical properties. They DID lead Game Over Terezi to her 'home', in a sense, with Game Over Vriska.

"Your wound is starting to throb again. You can hear your blood in your ears. The rush of your pulse is so loud that it almost sounds like the engine of a rocket sputtering to a stop." Pfffff, that's literally what's happening, right? Terezi finding him, having flown over with her dragon wings. If so, the non-magical ruby slippers worked! In a nice twist from Game Over Terezi finding John while she was gravely injured and wearing the slippers. Well, to be fair, they're red and bright, and that's why GO Terezi took them, of course post-victory Terezi would be attracted to them out here as well!

"Wait. It sounds exactly like the engine of a rocket sputtering to a stop." Finally! I've been looking forward to this reunion. To see Terezi's reaction to everything that's happened, her knowledge of Vriska's current state, and just see how the demeanor between John and Terezi is now, after all this time.

"She hovers in place, looking not a whole lot different from when you last saw her years ago." I think she aged as much as him, though of course a time difference shouldn't be ruled out. But even so, tealbloods age real slow anyway.

"Her arms are crossed over her chest, making knifelike angles where her elbows jut out." Terezi is really all edges, isn't she? Sharp in body as in mind as in glasses as in horns. :D

"She is giving you a look of absolute disregard. It’s an expression of exasperation so performative and habitual, it sends bolts of aching nostalgia and fondness through your heart." <3<, back in business!

"Dumbly, you raise your hand and give her a dorky little wave. It does not adequately communicate whatever it is you’re feeling right now. But then, nothing else would, you suppose.

She waves back. But hearing her voice is what makes it real.

TEREZI: H3Y LOS3R" That's probably how they said goodbye on Earth C as well. It's how they said goodbye before the last fights in the session, anyway.

---

Cool, something to look forward to. I'm banking on Terezi's sharpness/aspect, to notice Dirk's influence on John/the plot! Might be too much to hope for, though.

But hey, now John has retrieved the wallet like Game Over Terezi wanted. Not sure it'll become relevant, since Vriska & Terezi deduced he'd need it to captchalogue Earth C.

Also, I really hope her Mindy thing gets discussed, what she underwent during Terezi: Remem8er.

#homestuck #upd8 #spoiler alert #reaction #homestuck epilogues #homestuck liveblog #kanaya maryam #dirk strider #terezi pyrope #john egbert

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kelebriel · 1 year

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Instead of taking notes on my phone while the flash plays, as I did for Cascade, or just trying to remember them, as I did for a ton of other stuff, I’m just gonna have this post open and flip to it whenever a thought slams into my skull at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound. Now featuring SUBPOINTS! When new info comes up related to the original point.

-Oh man this is when the Tumblr hashtags came in. I don’t remember if I was on tumblr at this point. Maybe. --How did they use commas in the tags. What is this witchcraft

-References to Damara as Aradia does her psychopomp thing!

-Do trolls know what motor oil is? I can’t imagine why, considering all their technology is biological.

-Wait do the treasure chest texts change depending on who opens them. --Nope, doesn’t look like it. Ah, well.

-Was Rose hitting on Meenah

- “i don’t know im not cut out for the reluctant hero schtick” says dude who just got done saying how he’ll be a hero but only reluctantly --And then Dave just called attention to it. Damn you, Dave. Stealing my thunder.

-And you thought other people liked to go on. Kankri just keeps fucking going forever. --”Cisblooded” is a term that sucks actually. --Hey Beforus was post scarcity. Didn’t remember that, but that’s cool for them. --I mean. He’s not wrong about how the longer-living castes could use that long life to codify their agendas into social truths. Let’s see if he ever says what the actual fucking problems are. --Fun fact for all y’all out there - you don’t need to actually bring up slurs in your discussions. Even if you throw it in the middle of a bunch of “oh this term sucks and I don’t condone using it, everyone be careful”, it’s still worse than just. Not using it. --Hey how do the post-scratch trolls learn about the Sufferer? The method we the readers learn is by Scratch monologing in his study. Do the bubbles allow you to look out at history? Mindfang’s journal only briefly alludes to him. But Karkat knows by the time the epilogue rolls around, since he makes some snark calling Jesus a “t-posing human Sufferer”. ---RARE SUBSUBPOINT: Oh Kankri just tells him the whole thing. That’s how that happens, I guess. --Love how Kankri calls the Sufferer’s methods violent and problematic, despite the fact that he just. Went around telling people “wouldn’t it be nice if everyone was nice”.

-God damn it why do I like Latula so much. --It’s certainly not her fucking theme, which is just as grating as I remember.

-Porrim: Also still great. This is probably where I’m gonna go through my pet peeve so here goes: Kankri is not a take that on social justice activists in general. He’s a specific sendup of the keyboard warriors who shame people actually fighting for not being “unproblematic” and who are actually bad at effecting social change. And to help drive this point home, Porrim is right there, being smart and not using her activism as a bludgeon.

-Wait I thought the Demonbane Ragripper was something Kanaya alchemized, but it shows up saying it was a popular model sold on Alternia. -This took longer than I thought and I need to go to bed but I forgot that the last part of the flash is driving my car straight on into another few walls of text from Aranea. --Boy, Aranea, you sure seem quick to jump over Mindfang’s part in Dolorosa’s story, huh

#Kel's Homestuck Reread

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shella-aweswim · 6 years

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Borrowed Time Ch 11

Traumatic memories, suppressed over the years, were torn from the recesses of Meenah’s mind and brought to the forefront of her thoughts. They began to play in her mind like some kind of horrible movie she couldn’t escape from as soon as she laid eyes on that cursed base. Memories of how they were rounded up from the caverns the second they molted from grub to wriggler. How they were herded aboard a large submarine, filled with different violet blooded lusii for the wrigglers to bond with.

Everyone, except her.

Inferior branded sea dwellers were shunned from preliminary school-feeding aboard the ship. Trolls with frayed or underdeveloped fins, deformed gills, and other physical disabilities were taken to a separate room as soon as the first classes started. Now that she thought about it, she never saw any of them leave either. Not until the Empress arrived.

For a while, she was treated like a queen. Above everyone else in the room, according to the adults. She was always given the best of everything. The best food, clothes, even weapons for military training in between classes. Not to mention the private combat lessons tailored just to her. All because she had the right shade of purple blood.

The base believed that if they began military style training as soon as the schooling began, every sea dweller would grow to be an unstoppable force. While she didn’t understand why then, she was always given extra private lessons while the violet bloods went to rest or converse with each other. When she would complain, they claimed that her ‘bold tyrian nature’ meant she deserved to be leagues ahead of all the wrigglers. Unfortunately, she was starting to find that these lessons were invaluable as the weeks went on.

Some of the violet wrigglers didn’t take too kindly to her special treatment. They would speak out only to be reprimanded instantly by an adult. How she was their better and they needed to treat her as such. A couple of scrappier wrigglers would try to attack her at times, either bare fisted or with a weapon. Adults never stepped in to stop this. Instead, they would watch as Meenah, through better skill and superior strength would beat her opponents time and time again.

There were only a few times where the other trolls would nearly beat her. Where her royal blood spilled on the ground and covered their fists. How she would immediately switch to the dirty fighting tactics she had developed over the weeks just to defend herself. Sharp punches to the throat and gills floored them as they struggled to breathe usually won the fight. An open palmed smack to their earfins sent them stumbling as they wailed in agony. She even headbutted a rather large violet blood in the nose. Hard enough that she could feel it break with a sickening crunch.

It was when they fell when the adults would step in. They would reprimand them for being so foolish as to try and fight a tyrian. Only tyrians can beat tyrians. Those words had gone to her head and it wasn’t long before she started to pick fights and bully some of the wrigglers who fought her and lost. After all, only a tyrian could beat her, right?

It was a strange mixture of entitlement and frustration that settled in her chest as the first month came to an end. Despite what all the adults said, about her not needing anyone as she was superior, she found herself to be quite lonely. She was dragged from lesson to combat lesson like clockwork which gave her little time to try and make any sort of friendship with the others. Even when she was given time to spend with the others, they had already formed their own friend groups. Ones that did allow her close would only do so for selfish reasons, and would drop her the second they realized being her friend didn’t give them the royal treatment as well.

That’s where she began to resent her blood color.

Fed up, she started to skip lessons altogether. When they would find her, she started to become more creative. She crawled through vents, under tables and even began to memorize their daily schedules. Only once was she foiled by a squeaky floor. After that, she started to make a mental map of the floor. She became so good, there were days where she was able to disappear entirely, much to her pleasure.

The high life was short lived, as more submarines arrived, some carrying tyrians of their own from different brood caverns. Many of them had been taught and trained on the ship rides here, and all of them looked as lonely as she was. Despite this, she couldn’t get near any of them. A deep primal rage boiled in her chest at the sight of them. Aggression was encouraged by the scholars and military, almost as if to prove that they had found the best and toughest future leader of all the trolls.

Fights broke out among them rather frequently. Except this time, no one stepped in to stop it. Tyrian stained the floors so much that even when she closed her eyes that was all she could see. It wasn’t like she closed them for long anyways. Any rest she did get was fitful and uneasy as she was unable to fully relax with the other violent tyrians around. Private lessons was her only relief, and she attended as much as possible. One small slip up and she might be the next wriggler who bled to death on the cold metal floor.

Eventually, the empress had returned from her voyage unharmed according to the scholars. Suddenly, she, along with the other tyrians, weren’t the almighty leaders everyone was suppose to love and adore. Now, they were the bitey brats that had a front row ticket to greet the Empress along with the trolls that were deemed imperfect.

To say she was bitter was an understatement. Resentment boiled deep inside of her as she was treated as a pariah. The real leader was back and now they were an annoyance who were shoved away into a small room along with the disabled and unwanted trolls. Anger battled with her instincts to fight, and fortunately for her, anger won.

Meenah was careful to avoid the other tyrians as she scanned the room for a vent. Adrenaline high, she nearly ripped the grate out of the wall before she threw herself into the metal tube. It wasn’t a moment later that she heard the naval soldiers return and immediately usher out the trolls she left behind.

Curious, she followed them through the ventilation system by using the familiar sounds of the soldiers footsteps. A grand room in the center of the base was filled with gold and tyrian, at least from what she could see through the metal slats. Though she didn’t spend any time appreciating the aesthetics, as the sight of an adult tyrian through the tiny vent bars chilled her to the bone.

The massive double ended trident the empress held was hurled from her hands faster than she could blink. Only as it struck the wall did she realize the deadly weapon had buried itself deep in a tyrian wrigglers chest and had effectively pinned her to the wall. Aggression still bubbled under the surface, urging her to fight an impossible fight. Instead, Meenah used this energy to escape and crawled away as quickly and quietly as she could. She only caught a glimpse of the empress rushing the cowering group with murderous intent as she raced away.

An impromptu plan of escape burst in her mind as she approached a vent grate out to the submarines. Voices of the adult trolls that cared for her over the months had finally noticed she was gone, but not in the way they intended her to go. She could hear them cursing her and calling her name as they patrolled the halls.

It was now or never. As soon as she was certain the coast was clear, she burst through the vent and dove into the sea. She ignored approaching heavy footfalls as she swam through the open port into open water. Distant splashes rang out like sirens as she swam for her life. They were coming for her.

Seaweed that had built up along the sides was used as a disguise as she swam through thick bundles and ripped it off the walls using just her adrenaline alone. Water swirled violently around her as she swam down and pressed close to the side of the base until she was at the bottom of the trench the base was built over. Earfins trembled in fear from the sounds of adult trolls cutting through the water in powerful strokes. They called her name with false kindness in their voice as they searched for her. It just left her with a growing sense of dread.

A small crevice caught her eye. An escape. With a final burst of energy, she darted into the crevice and didn’t stop even when the voices faded away. It was only when the adrenaline died and her limbs felt heavier than lead when she finally stopped. The sudden drop in energy left her collapsed in a thick bushel of seaweed on the seafloor.

Ever since that day, she has vowed to never return to this horrid place. Her stomach churned as her memories tortured her better than what Mindfang could ever hope to do. The tuna she ate moments ago, once again got to see the night sky as she heaved over the edge of the ship. Her legs nearly buckled under her as her adrenaline spike dropped, leaving her dizzy.

“Meenah! Please sit! Let me help you, ok?” Vaguely she was aware of warm frantic hands as they guided her away from the rail and onto a small stool. Distressed cerulean eyes filled her vision as Aranea kneeled before her. “Breathe with me, ok? Eight seconds in and out.”

Okay, she could do that. It was easier to just focus on her friend as she followed along. Slowly they breathed, in and out, until her heart no longer felt as though it was going to burst from her chest. The squeezing sensation in her stomach remained as she dropped her head into her hands.

“I’m gonna have to go in there, aint i?” Her voice was raspy, throat sore from the burn of stomach acid from her lost lunch. She grimaced at the sound as she gently rubbed her throat in an attempt to soothe the ache.

Even with her eyes to the floor, her mind an anxious mess, she could still sense the hesitation from Aranea. Meenah glanced up at her only to see the struggle as plain as day on the first mates face. She could tell that she wanted to go against the plan that, only a moment ago, she had full confidence in. Though, as she and Mindfang had said, the information would be invaluable to their little rebellion.

“I...really wish there was another way,” The despondent tone in her friends voice did little to comfort her. Of course, she expected that to be the answer, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. “I’ll be sure we are as close as we can be to pick you up once you finish. I will keep a sharp eye out for you, I promise.”

Somehow, that promise did make her feel a little better. Knowing Aranea, she would probably stand on deck and stare out with her telescope all night if she had to. The thought alone brought a slight smile to her face. Just knowing the cerulean blood cared so much to worry about her like this made her heart feel light despite the fear that tied her stomach into knots.

“But, you could think of this as a good thing,” An arched eyebrow and humorless laugh fell from the sea dwellers lips at that. Oh yes, it was such a wonderful thing having to live for nearly an entire sweep inside those walls. “I mean it, Meenah. You spent some time around the scholars when you were a wriggler, so you should know how they acted. You’ll be able to fit in and fool them more effectively!”

Aranea’s enthusiasm actually pulled a genuine laugh from the sea dweller. Even when trying to cheer her up she would somehow make it apart of a plan. She was always so calculating and intelligent...it really was impressive. Impulsively, Meenah pulled her friend into a tight hug. She felt the first mate catch herself on her jacket by grabbing the cloth in fistfulls as she buried her face into her shoulder.

The closeness eased her nerves as she squeezed her friend gently in her arms. Somehow, even as her horrible memories came crashing down around her, she made it seem not so bad. She did have insight on the inside, maybe she could actually use that to her advantage.

“Just don’t die out here and I’ll dolphinately try not to die in there” She smiled into her friends shoulder as she heard her giggle from her morbid joke. “I’ve seen land dwellers swimmin and I gotta say, its the worst swimmin I’ve ever seen in my whole glubbin life.”

“Yes, well we all can’t be sea dwellers like you, Meenah. Though I will be sure that we stay out of range of their canons.” She snorted as Aranea slowly pulled away just enough so she could see her face. “But, I don’t want you worrying about what happens out here while you are in there. That is Mindfang’s job, as well as mine. I just want you to worry about yourself while you’re in there, ok?”

The concern really touched the heiress. Warmth and affection for her friend only seemed to grow and it somehow dulled the effects of her fear. Sure, she was still fearful about what awaited her inside the base, but it wasn’t crippling like before. “Yeah ocray. But if this ship is all blown to a krillion pieces when I come out, I’m gonna kick yer glubbin ass for doin a shitty job.”

Laughter bubbled up between the two trolls as they ignored the inevitable, for only a moment. Right now, they were just two friends in need of some comfort. That’s all they needed to be for now. Until Mindfang arrived on the top deck and huffed impatiently at their embrace.

“Are you two done blubbering in the corner? It’s time to put this plan into action and I can’t do that while you both sit there and hold each other.” Reluctantly, Meenah dropped her arms from around Aranea and slowly stood from the stool. As she faced the base once again, she felt a little more stable, though she still trembled slightly.

“There should be a ship arriving soon with some...cargo.” Cargo, right. Already she could imagine all of the cargo aboard that ship. Many of them very unlucky. “If you hurry, you could make it look like you arrived with them.”

“Shore.” Meenah muttered as she took a shaky step towards the bow of the ship. Each step became more confident as she steeled herself for the task at hand. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could leave this place and continue on with her life. Besides, she survived once, she could definitely do it again, right?

“Meenah?” The heiress in question hesitated as she climbed onto the railing at the call of Aranea’s voice. Meenah turned at toward the sound of light footsteps trotting towards her curiously. Slender, coat covered arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her down until she felt a pair of soft lips press against her cheek.

It was over in an instant, yet the action had the sea dweller reeling. The feeling was like an electric shock to her system. Warmth seemed to radiate from the spot where her lips met her skin. Her hand came up to gingerly touch her cheek as her heart raced in her chest.

“What...was that for?” She inquired, her eyes shimmering in delight and wonder behind her goggles at this new show of affection. It felt so nice, that it eased the waning anxiety that churned in her stomach to a barely noticeable tremor.

Aranea just smiled up at her, absolutely pleased at her reaction. She could see the reflection of her fins fluttering in the cerulean depths of her eyes before she finally spoke. “For luck of course.”

Luck. Soft laughter bubbled up from the sea dwellers chest at the first mates reasoning. Of course it was for luck. Well, she could definitely go for more luck if her friend wasn’t half heartedly nudging her towards the naval base. “Please be safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I will be.” She reached out and gently squeezed Aranea’s shoulder. With one last smile, she reluctantly pulled away and dove into the sea. Though now, she had renewed strength. She had that infamous Serket luck on her side now, no way could she mess this up.

It was easy to spot the submarine as it approached the base. The royal symbol emblazoned on the side of the ship in a rich tyrian color as it cruised towards the base. By the size of it, there had to be at least thirty wrigglers inside along with their lusii.

The submarine slowed as it approached the entrance. Meenah took advantage of this as she darted in close and pressed against the underside of the ship. Her earfins swiveled towards the base, listening closely for any scholars or military that may be waiting inside for the ship.

As soon as the ship stopped, she peered out from underneath and scanned her surroundings. There only seemed to be two scholars waiting for the new wrigglers as they stood at attention, their arms behind their backs as they waited for the new wrigglers to emerge. They didn’t have to wait long as the front hatch opened and the bridge extended toward the submarine. The sounds of young trolls filled the air as they were escorted off of the submarine.

As the last of the trolls were guided off the ship, Meenah took this moment to pull herself up onto the steel landing. Her fins twitched anxiously, hidden behind her hood as she rushed after them and took up the tail end of the group. Already she recognized the corridors of the base. How she was once ushered up and down these halls for under both scholar and military supervision. It left her feeling empty and alone. For a moment, she wondered if this was how all sea dwellers felt when they came here.

As they approached the large common room the wrigglers stayed in between their lessons and mealtimes, she noticed one scholar had a clipboard. They seemed to be furiously scribbling down notes as they spoke with low tones with one of the scholars that came from the ship. The captain maybe, or possibly the troll that watched over the wrigglers the most. Honestly, she wasn’t certain, but she did know she had to at least get her hands on those notes.

Aggression bubbled deep in her chest as the doors were opened and the wrigglers were led inside. There was another tyrian in here. Her eyes scanned the room, completely foregoing the clipboard until she saw her. This small wriggler with big scared eyes as she was ushered off by another troll for a private lesson no doubt.

As she was pushed out of the room, she resisted the urge to follow. Hunting down a little wriggler was a waste of time, especially when she was doomed anyways. No reason to put a mark on herself for being unable to control herself.

‘She deserves to live too. Why do you get to be the only one to survive this place?’ Meenah huffed as her thoughts poked and prodded at her hypocrisy. No, she wasn’t going to go after her. She had a whole mission to get information and she was going to finish it, ok?

Maybe...she will get her after. The little wriggler wasn’t going to get in much trouble at a private lesson anyways, right?

As she tore her eyes away from the door the small tyrian slipped through, she noticed the scholar with the clipboard was also heading out of the room. She swore under her breath as she followed, careful to mimic the upright posture with her hands folded behind her back. Despite the discomfort of the vulnerable position, she managed to maintain it until it was only herself and the clipboard wielding scholar in the halls.

He suddenly veered off to the left at a brisk pace, deeper into the base. Soft curses were muttered under her breath as she tried to follow him at a distance. Alone in the halls, she used every trick she knew to soften her footfalls as she hurried after him. Stepping with the balls of her feet to the tip of her toes, her steps were barely audible compared to his heavy footfalls as he strode to the end of the hallway.

The second he stopped she slipped behind a steel beam on the side of the hallway. It was so abrupt that she instinctively crouched low and pulled out a small hand mirror she had stolen sweeps ago. After nearly getting caught in once by a rather furious shopkeeper when she was only five sweeps old, only to be saved by seeing his angry form storm through his shop in the reflection of the windows, she was certain to keep a small mirror around for tight situations.

Slowly she slipped the mirror out around the corner of the beam, and caught the scholar in its reflection as he activated a hidden wall panel. It slid open with a soft whoosh and revealed a dimly lit number pad.

A quick six digit code was punched into the pad, two seven four three two eight. A soft hiss of pressurized air escaping hidden valves echoed down the hall as a section of the wall sunk inwards and slid away. Before she could catch what was inside the scholar strode through the doors and resealed the door from the inside.

Meenah cursed under her breath as she slowly stood, contemplating what she should do next. If she waited, she would be trapped here far longer than she wanted. Though if she followed after, she may face a confrontation and possibly alert the entire fortress. That and she had no idea how many other trolls were in that room with the scholar.

Well, one thing she was certain about. She was not about to spend a second longer than she needed to in this damn military base. With this new resolve, she confidently strode up to the door and repeated the steps the scholar used to get in.

A small green light on the number pad flashed as the code was accepted. She shifted away from the door as it opened, hand already on the dagger hidden under her jacket. Once the door was open, she hesitated for only a moment before she rushed inside, teeth bared and fins flared threateningly.

Instead of an attack, she was met with another hallway. A darker, narrow hallway that was only wide enough to fit two trolls standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms at their sides. Whatever was down here had to be only accessible to high ranking trolls, right?

Anxiety spiked in her chest as she started down the hall, feeling incredibly claustrophobic at the lack of room or escape routes. Anyone could rush her from in front or behind and she would be helpless to avoid the attack. Her grip tightened around the hilt of the dagger at the thought, her resolve shaken only for a moment. She could do this...for Aranea.

A soft whirring sound reached her earfins as she approached the end of the hall. That was when she noticed the door just on the right of the hall. A soft bluish glow emitted from the bottom of a heavy steel door. She could hear the scholars muffled confident steps as he milled about the room along with a few random tapping sounds she was unfamiliar with.

As she squeezed the dagger hilt nervously, she slowly twisted the knob on the door in an attempt to not give herself away. An unsteady breath fell from her lips as her heart seemed to beat so loud she swore it echoed through the hall. Her heartbeat was all she could hear as she shoved the door open and raced into the room.

The scholar’s back was to her as she rushed him. His vulnerable posture gave her a split second decision to release the dagger altogether as an alive victim wasn’t going to be investigated as thoroughly as a dead one. A startled shout ripped its way from his lungs as she hooked her arm tight around his neck and squeezed. She squeezed her arm harder around his neck as she felt his gills flare under her arm as he gasped for breath. The struggle lasted for about a minute as he uselessly clawed and pulled at her coat covered arm. He even attempted to grab and tear at her gills, his struggle weakening until he finally stopped. As he slumped heavily in her arms, she dropped him carelessly to the floor.

Pockets were searched. Any money she found was pocketed immediately, though a pen made her hesitate. Echoes of Aranea’s voice rang in her mind as she held the steel pen in her hands. ‘Sea dweller pens are incredible! They can write on land and even submerged in water! Plus they are refillable, but I have yet to find any available for sale on land. If only I had one, I could finally put that old quill to rest.’

Aranea would love this. With a pleased grin on her face, she slipped the pen into an inner jacket pocket close to her heart. Already her fins were fluttering in excitement at the thought of presenting her with this gift. Though the thoughts didn’t last long as the sight of the unconscious troll sobered her to her situation.

Sighing, she continued to search the scholar until she found a key card. Curious, she examined the official piece of plastic curiously. She always wondered how they worked, as many of the scholars when she was younger would take her to private areas to train and teach her how to be tyrian. Until the final day she was here when it was used to dump her in a room to await her death.

Pocketing the card, she stood and nearly shrieked as she finally saw what else was in the room. An emaciated yellow blood hung before her. Wires and tubes weaved around and through the severely atrophied arms, legs and torso of this troll creating unpleasant ridges in the waxy grey skin. If it weren’t for the heart monitor next to them, she would have thought they were dead.

The subtle glow emitting from the troll made her realize that they were in fact the power source of this facility. She could remember running into yellow bloods that freely used their power to move objects and zap at bugs, but she never saw any much older than maybe six sweeps old. Was this why major naval sea dweller ships were so high tech? They had a literal living battery aboard, left to waste away as they fulfilled their orders from the empress?

Honestly, she felt sick to her stomach at this, more machine than troll that hung before her. Unable to look at the shriveled up troll any longer, she ripped her eyes away from the sickly vestige. Before her, was a computer with an incomplete text document. The notepad was beside it, and it appeared he had been transcribing the written word to the computer itself, and he was nearly done.

That’s when she got an idea. Maybe she could finish it, then take the whole computer. That would work right? Sure, she didn’t actually know how it worked, but it couldn’t be too hard. Determined, she kneeled over the keyboard and poked at the keys with her index fingers. She cursed under her breath whenever she made a mistake and eventually she just gave up. That last sentence she attempted to write was just a mess of letters and typos with very little spacing.

Put out by her failed attempt, she resolved to take both the written information as well as what was on the computer. The problem was, how was she going to get the whole thing back with her without raising suspicion. The notepad was easy, as she just tucked it away in one of the larger inner pockets of her jacket. The computer, however, was going to have to be carried in something.

As she puzzled over the computer, she finally noticed subtle movement in the corner of the screen. Curious, she leaned in close and squinted at the moving figures, trying to make out what was happening. As she did this, she accidentally bumped the mouse and moved the cursor over to select window. As a violet box lit up around it, she shifted back and experimentally clicked on the window.

Immediately it brought up the surveillance system feed from cameras within the facility. Her eyes widened. She could see absolutely everything! The military grade duffle bags in one of the windows caught her eye. They would work perfectly, but just where were they exactly?

A soft groan alerted her of the troll she left on the floor. Right. Guess she better not leave any loose ends. As he began to stir, she kneeled down and slugged him hard in the jaw. She could feel the bone give way as he was knocked unconscious once again, his jaw immediately bruising and swelling from the break. Some spare wire was grabbed and used to tie him to one of the supporting beams in the room, his face towards the steel. Once she was certain he wouldn’t be able to get away without help, she left him slumped against the metal as she returned to the computer.

As she studied the screen, she clicked the feed with the military bags. It filled the whole screen, much to her surprise. Certainly it could do more than show her this. Once again, she poked at the keyboard curiously until she hit the arrow keys, which caused the image to move.

Earfins perked, she pressed the left arrow key and watched as the whole image shifted slowly to the left. Delighted by her discovery, she used the camera to look around the room until she spotted a door and two trolls. A soldier and that little tyrian she had seen earlier.

They were training, or at least they would be if the soldier wasn't so busy scolding her. Well, that didn't matter, because she knew exactly where she needed to be. She clicked the screen again, more confident in her computer skills, and was pleased when it zoomed back out. That way, if anyone came in here, they wouldn’t know where she had been going.

Once again she was in the brightly lit halls of the base as she rushed to the private training areas. She was careful to not raise suspicion as she strode down the halls quickly, her head held high and proud like nobility. A curt nod here and there from passing scholars put her nerves at ease and even made her feel...good. They really believed she was just like them. She never felt so openly accepted before. Even Aranea didn’t treat her like this when they first met.

Those thoughts left her mind she approached the room that held the military bags. Her confident stride slowed as her instincts began to build like a volcano. She could sense the little tyrian in the room, as well as hear the stern voice of a soldier through the door. Damn, she was hoping they would have been gone by now. Well, she wasn’t about to wait. Irritated, she yanked the door open and strode inside. If she was able to walk the halls without raising suspicions, then she could easily walk in and grab a bag right?

The sound of a troll clearing their throat in frustration made her pause just long enough turn towards the sound. “Excuse me, but this is a private lesson. Unless this is an emergency, no one should enter this room until after this lesson is over!”

The harsh tone had her fins flaring aggressively, influenced by the aggression she was struggling to keep at bay. She was not about to be turned away when her goal was within sight. The ocean patterned bags were just on the other side of the room, and she wasn't going to leave without one.

“Yeah well, I gotta get somefin from here aight so just do yer lesson and ignore me" She waved off the soldier as she strode into the room. “Me bein here aint gonna interrupt you yellin at her.”

All caution was thrown to the wind the longer she spent time in the room with the little tyrian. Being unable to express her instincts in the traditional way in fear of exposing her identity; the aggression channeled to other forms of dominance. Instead of backing off in self preservation as the violet blood stormed up to her, she stood her ground and even bore her teeth in a snarl. A sense of satisfaction filled her as the soldier hesitated for a moment upon seeing the look on her face.

“Now you listen to me. I am in charge of wriggler developmental fighting, specifically tyrian wrigglers.” He gestured aggressively to the nervous little troll on the floor with big grey eyes as he spoke. Her little tyrian fins were trembling in fear. Perhaps she could sense her true nature and hopefully she would keep her mouth shut. “Which means I have ultimate say on what goes on when it involves the wrigglers here, so get out before I report you to your superior!”

A wet crack of cartilage snapping under flesh echoed in the room as Meenah’s knuckles mashed into the soldiers nose. Violet blood dripped from her fist as he crumpled to the floor with a dull thud. His face was already starting to swell as two black bruises blossomed around his eyes.

A terrified shriek from the little tyrian brought Meenah’s full attention to the little troll. A satisfied smirk grew on her face as she saw her fins trembling and pressed back against her head in submission and fear. It was enough for her to ignore the urge to kill this little troll, and instead dismiss her with a wave as she headed over to the bags. After all, it satisfied her basic instinct, proving she was superior to her.

“You’re….not going to kill me?” A soft voice made her pause as she grabbed a large military duffle bag. She could still hear fear in her tone, but there was a hint of curiosity in her voice that really caught her attention. “But I thought….all tyrians do is kill each other.”

Fear struck her as those words carelessly fell from the little sea dweller.So she did know what she was. She wheeled on the little troll, bag slung over her shoulder as she glared hard at the small sea dweller. “Now listen here, shrimp. Ya betta keep that shit to yershellf beshore I do acshelly detide to turn ya into chum.”

The little tyrian shrunk away instantly, fear once again maring her innocent features as she nodded quickly. Honestly, seeing this little troll looking so scared and pitiful struck a chord in her heart. Fear so familiar to her that even her own instincts to slaughter the little troll couldn’t override this new urge to help and protect her from this horrid place.

“...You aint safe here though…” She muttered as she kneeled down to be eye level with the small troll. Though she was curious. Why hadn’t she gone aggressive like the other tyrian wrigglers when in the presence of another tyrian? Even she felt it as a wriggler when she saw the Empress despite knowing there was no way to beat her. She just channeled that aggression to escaping instead. “They will krill ya when they sea ya”

Cautiously the little sea dweller approached, fearful yet somewhat in awe of the tyrian in front of her. She seemed to be inspecting her face curiously, most likely her violet colored fins for a sign of her royal blood. It was endearing, her innocent wonder blossoming on her face as what she could assume were a million questions hidden behind those grey eyes.

Up close, she could see many healing scuffs and scrapes from past training sessions. Some looked to be fresh. A few, appeared to have been from an actual fight from another wriggler. A bitey one apparently from those teeth marks in her forearm. Once again, her heart ached for her. Obviously she was suffering just as she had, and this time, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to escape it.

“They said I would be the leader of everyone, unless another tyrian kills me.” Sadness tinged the little trolls voice as she shrunk away. “But, I don’t want to kill anyone! I want us all to live together peacefully!”

Meenah snorted and shook her head with a humorless smile on her face. Poor kid was delusional. Still, the sight of the little wrigglers pout, cheeks puffed up and arms crossed tight over her chest, was just too adorable to ignore. “Don’t laugh! It could happen!”

Indignation was apparently strong enough to shake this wriggler of her fear. Somehow, it made her want to protect her more than destroy her. “Whale...if ya want a chance to do that, we need to get ya outta here.”

“Really?!” Without warning, a beaming tyrian lunged at her and hugged her hard around her neck. Meenah coughed as her gills were squeezed shut by her excitement. Impulsively, she shoved her away single handedly, snarling slightly as the wriggler crashed to the floor.

“Don’t fuckin do that shit!” She hissed hoarsely as she gingerly checked her gills. No damage, but they ached a little from the sudden pressure. “Fuckin shell, don’t ya know to be careful boat glubbin gills?”

“I’m sorry.” The apology was so quiet, Meenah almost didn’t hear it. A soft sniff from the little sea dweller made her hesitate. Watching her furiously scrub at her eyes only reminded her of herself when she was trapped here. Lonely and alone as the brave face she used during the day crumbled to reveal the sad, scared little troll underneath.

“Yeah...whale..I didn’t marine to push ya that hard.” Honestly, she knew that was a lie. Even with the pity for this little tyrian, it was just barely stronger than her natural instincts to kill her. Maybe the fact that she lacked these instincts as well that helped keep her safe. She was definitely going to have to get this under control if this little troll was coming with her.

Somehow her words worked, as a small smile seemed to grow on the little wrigglers face. It was so genuine, Meenah couldn’t help but return the smile with one of her own. Now at least she seemed more restrained as she pulled herself up off the floor. “It’s ok! I won’t do it again.”

Once again she found herself shaking her head in amusement at this little optimistic troll. She didn’t know it was possible for anyone to be this positive and happy. It was definitely refreshing after spending months on a boat with Mindfang, the master cynic.

“Ya need to get in this bag aight?” Meenah dropped the duffle bag onto the floor between them and unzipped the empty bag. It was rather spacious, surely it could fit both the computer and a wriggler at the same time. “Just get in and keep quiet. I gotta pick up some otter shit beshore we leave but it aint gonna take long.”

The young troll nodded quickly as she climbed into the bag without question. The amount of trust she gave her after only knowing her for at least a few minutes boggled the older tyrians mind. Idly, she wondered how long it would take before the cruel word would take that innocence from her as she watched her settle into the bag.

“My names Feferi by the way,” Earfins perked at the new information. It suited her, as the name seemed to be as light and bubbly as the wriggler herself. “What’s your name?”

A moment passed between them as she zipped the little troll into the bag. She left a small gap open for air before she carefully slung it over her shoulders and stood. “Meenah. Now be quiet aight?”

Now more determined than before, she strode out of the room and down hallway as quickly as she could without raising suspicion. Idly, she wondered if it was a good idea to leave that scholar unconscious in the middle of the room. It was probably better than a straight up murder, as the discovery of a dead body may lock down the entire base. Who knows how long she would be trapped here then?

As she neared the room that held the young trolls, a line of them were led out by a rather stern soldier. Something about him felt familiar as she approached, unable to really tear her eyes away from him for long. He strongly resembled her old combat teacher, except he had deep scarring across his face that had nearly blinded one of his eyes.

She was about to dismiss these thoughts to focus on the task at hand; until his uncomfortably familiar, stern gaze landed on her as she tried to pass. “Hold it, scholar. Those bags are for military use only. What are you doing, stepping beyond your station?”

Panic bubbled in her chest like hot tar as his commanding voice brought her to a screeching halt. Apparently she wasn’t the only one affected as she could feel Feferi shift and curl up in the bag as she held it tighter to herself. He was one of the few adults that didn't treat her as more, only because of his devotion to the current Empress. With every session, he made it clear he was doing this out of obligation than anything, and had little patience for tyrian wrigglers. After all, what was the point in training them if they were going to die anyway?

Before she could answer, an alarm went off in the base. Red lights flashed down the halls as the siren bellowed rhythmically. An intercom crackled to life, and it took all Meenah could to not cover her earfins as the blaring sounds assaulted her hearing. “Pirate ship identified on the border! Admiral presence is requested!”

The violet blood swore under his breath as he quickly sprinted down the hall and left the young, terrified violet blooded wrigglers behind. Not wanting to miss her chance, she rushed to the secret entryway and hurriedly activated the panel. Her fingers flew across the number pad, and she barely gave the door enough time to open before she raced in. As soon as she snagged that computer, she was going to get the hell out of here.

Even though she was grateful for the distraction, she couldn’t stop the mounting worry about said identified pirate ship. Were they in the middle of riddling it with a million holes? Will they board the ship and take everyone prisoner? Was Aranea going to be ok?

Meenah raced down the narrow hallway and practically knocked the door off its hinges as she forced her way in. Blue and red glowed brightly from the yellow blood in the room, a pained look on their face as energy was forced from their emaciated body. The alarm system obviously put a severe strain on the poor troll, and honestly she didn’t know how long they could last under such extreme stress. Horrified by their appearance, she averted her gaze as she rushed into the room.

Luckily, as she slid the bag off her shoulder, she remembered there was a small troll hidden inside. Gently she set it down and unzipped it. A terrified wriggler was what greeted her, as Feferi seemed to hug herself for comfort as she trembled visibly.

“Hey...clam down aight? I gotta put some otter shit in here with ya ocray, so stay still” She sighed as big grey eyes stared up at her and nodded quickly. Confident the little wriggler would stay where she was, mostly due to the fact she was paralyzed by fear, she grabbed the computer from the desk.

The wires were a little tricky, as they were coiled under the desk, and some were even screwed in. She ended up ripping those straight from the wall. After all, those wires would still probably work despite a little collateral damage, right? The tricky part was getting the monitor and the computer to fit in the bag with the little wriggler in there. After some nudging and a few choice words, she seemed to fit her and the computer quite snug in the bag.

A generous donation of a coat from a still very unconscious scholar, coupled with the computer wires, seemed to cushion Feferi quite well. If not, well at least it was better than the actual metal and plastic jabbing into her. As she zipped up the bag, she muttered a few comforting words to the small troll. “Hang in here a whale longer aight? We’re almost outta here”

Naval soldiers and scholars packed the halls as they rushed in every direction with purpose. Meenah carved through the crowd, scowling deeply as worry grew heavy in her chest. Images of fire and splintered wood filling the ocean pushed her through the crowd faster than fear had ever done before.

Only when she had made it to the docking area, did she realize she had shifted the military bag into her arms. It was clutched protectively to her chest as her thoughts went to Aranea among the wreckage. She had to get back to her, as soon as possible.

Meenah barely took the time to scope out the docking bay before she dove in. She shot off like a torpedo the second she touched the water, cursing the empress under her breath as she swam through the port out of the base. Though, the farther away from it she swam, the more she realized that something was….off.

No fire blazed from the ship. Aside from the alarms and lights that bellowed from the base, the distinct boom of fired cannons was absent. Was this more of the famous Serket luck coming into play?

Only when she reached the ship did she realize there was another ship from the base headed directly towards Mindfang’s. Alarmed, she scrambled up the side and nearly threw herself aboard just as the ship slowed a docking distance away. Seeing the captain grinning at the steel battleship only made her feel more uneasy as she searched for Aranea.

“Fuck, Serk..what the shell is happening?” Her words came out in a rush as she practically sprinted over to her side. Aranea herself seemed just smiled up at her, looking rather relieved to see her. Honestly, she could relate as the sight of her unharmed relaxed some of the tension in her chest.

“Her kismesis apparently works here.” The cerulean blood visibly hesitated, her arms jerking slightly at her sides, obviously repressing the urge to hug her. Instead, she reached out and took her hand, smiling wryly. Confused, Meenah squeezed her hand gently in return. “I guess he has decided to come and say hello.”

“...Shell whale, I got a bunch of shit from the base. Reel important shit I gotta show ya right awaves ocray?” She tugged on Aranea’s hand as she headed to her cabin when a very familiar figure came to view. His scarred face froze her in place both in disbelief and fear as she carefully shifted the bag behind her as much as possible.

Mindfang’s grin only seemed to grow. “It’s soooooooo good to see you again, Dualscar.”

#borrowed time #meenah #aranea #meenah peixes #aranea serket #mindfang

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