#nitram and zahhak wrigglers

[hiredpencil]

A commission for @contemplativetraveller and @bullflight of their muses' wrigglers

[binx-art]

Took a stab at redrawing this moment

[redpoppussy]

timeline canon so far

      ok this page is the Actual Canon Trolls and where/how they are. IM me if you somehow want to play someone, or something??

basics are, no game, but yes handmaid can do time stuff don’t make me explain I can’t. this is really just “ancestors do parenting” AU

Aradia Medigo: Aradia was killed in a drone sweep, but before her soul could be whisked away into the afterlife, the Handmaid snatched her ghost out of time and, since then, she’s lived in the space between timelines as a spirit.

Tavros Nitram: Tavros was adopted by the Summoner, as well as Vriska Serket, and has grown to be extremely arrogant. although he still had his accident and is still reliant on a wheelchair, he has reached new heights in his control of animals and has a lot more fighting skills than he might have otherwise.

Sollux Captor: Sollux was taken from real time as a young wriggler by he Handmaid, who saw potential and what his timeline would possibly end in, and wanted to save him. he spends his time floating between times, halfway searching for a timeline not currently occupied by a Sollux for him to inject himself into while not wanting to leave his palemate, Aradia, in the ether alone.

Karkat Vantas: Karkat got adopted by the GHB and is now the worst person alive.

Nepeta Leijon: Nepeta was found in the forest by Darkleer, who had accidentally injured Pounce and felt responsible for caring for Nepeta until her lusus was well again, but got attached. Nepeta has never been to civilization and scavenges all her electronic goods from burned out cities or dumps.

Kanaya Maryam: being the ward of a virgin mothergrub, Kanaya was discovered and taken in by the jades in the caverns to protect her and the mothergrub. she’s been raised in the system and knows pretty much all the ins and outs, and is the matron of a rather large section of caverns.

Terezi Pyrope: after accidentally blinding herself in the sun, Terezi was miraculously found by none other than His Imperial Tyranny, who decided to keep her for her keen nose and potential to eventually learn to overtake him. she has no manners and no fear, because she’s been taught to eat anyone who opposes her.

Vriska Serket: Vriska was adopted by the Summoner, in memory of Mindfang, along with Tavros. she’s trained her abilities and physical strength, and grew up listening to first-hand accounts of her ancestor. she and Tavros have a contentious, competitive relationship and act similar to siblings.

Equius Zahhak: )(IC, the Empress, missed Darkleer, who she had shown special favor to in allowing to live but be banished because she had a vague, almost pale relationship with him. on finding a direct bloodline descendant of his, she took him in to at least take over as the E%ecutioner, and then quickly got attached. Equius is extremely spoiled, always wears some pink, and has probably never heard the word “no” in his life.

Gamzee Makara: Gamzee, after being abandoned by his lusus, began to eat sopor and fell off the face of the planet. On a whim, he recorded himself baking a sopor pie, and people liked it. He has since built a small empire of devoted fans, and self-identifies as a cam-clown. Though he has gotten clean, he still struggles with his addiction, and his status as a figure on GoreTube has made it hard for him to create deeper relationships with people.

Eridan Ampora: Because of his gills not developing properly, and other issues with his development, he was kept secretly by a group of elderly jadebloods who raised him like a prince at the edge of the sea in an old cavern. He has never heard the word no, but is also all-round considered a gentleman, and relies heavily on this. Knowing his gills are underdeveloped and his fins aren’t prestigious looking, he leans heavily on being able to make people like him, and will resort to cruelty and disgust if someone sees through his facade.

Feferi Piexes: Feferi grew up in her palace under the sea with a rotating cast of caretakers and fair-weather friends. She is not used to or comfortable with deeper emotional connections, and can come off cold or even hostile to people she doesn’t see as immediately “useful”. Think Heather Chandler, but with the capacity for growth.

[skeletorific]

man i just wanna throw this out there and i think you'll catch it, how do you think some of the ancestors would take an invite to a human thing like a party or a ceremony? like if it was prefaced with 'compared to troll events there's a strict no one dies policy and a be human-style nice to people you don't particularly like or care for rule as well' idk if even the first ship crew would come along, and tbh i wouldn't really fault them because it's new and spoopy and they're dead after all

Ok, so you have thrown it, and I have caught it. I am unsure if I caught it in the direction you threw it, but I have caught SOMETHING and it is something I love dearly.

So, this question: I had to think for a moment. What scenario results in every single ancestor being in the same locale, in such a capacity that they are forced to interact, not only with each other, but with humans, to the point that not only can they not kill anyone but there is literally no point in killing each other?

....

....OH WAIT EARTH C-

So yeah, everyone say thank you paradox space. There had to be at least one dream bubble out there from a timeline where the alphas got yoinked into sburb as their Alternian selves by mistake right?

So, let’s assume they’ve had a few months to settle in, adjust to modern life. Troll kingdom has issued an ultimatum to the more....chaotic Ancestors in terms of the rearranged hemospectrum. They will, to quote Karkat, “FUCKING DEAL WITH IT”. Not an easy pill to swallow for a few of them, but then, a few millenia in the dream bubbles has forcibly mellowed them quite a bit and eventually its just more trouble than its worth.

I have a lot of thoughts on this timeline (ancestors get apartments are you kidding me, the potential), but let’s return to the question at hand.

The invitation makes the rounds through a lot of ghost communities, but a particularly bold human approaches the Ancestors themselves with an invite to one of the bigger ragers being thrown in the human kingdom. The celebration of the return of the gods is always a blowout, and this year promises to be especially so, with something between a gala and a block party planned to be pitched.

So here’s why they all show up, and here’s what they do:

The Handmaid is an odd duck. Sure, there’s a certain morose pleasure in watching the cosmic plans of the man who abused her from childhood fall apart because of a handful of chump kids, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy to be back here with these assholes, and it doesn’t mean she’s looking to build a social life. She’s perfectly happy to spend the rest of her days haunting the abandoned house she found on the outskirts of the carapace kingdom and terrorize any local teens that stick their noses where they aren’t wanted. When the uni student turns up with a flyer she cusses them out but good and sends them on their way with a couple of threats to life and limb.

And then shows up anyways.

Not to socialize, mind, just to watch. From the rafters probably. Snickering at all the drama going down, dropping spiders in Makara’s drink and stealing Dualscar’s watch when he’s not looking. And maybe see if Condy gets drunk enough to want a rematch. Laws be damned. Now THIS is a party.

The Signless’s entire crew is a bit of a chain pull. The Disciple wants to go extremely badly, so of course she manages to purrsuade The Signless to come with her. The Psiionic doesn’t want to go period but he’ll be damned if he’s letting Vantas out of his sight into an unguarded area. The Dolorosa wanted to go this whole time and is the one who got Leijon all riled up about it in the first place, but pretends she’s just doing it to keep an eye on Vantas and Captor.

Once there, they’re not exactly social butterflies, but compared to the others they’re practically savants. Leijon prowls on the edges of crowds, listening for snatches of information, and enjoys constructing narratives in her own mind about the relationships between all of them. Vantas finds himself pulled into a lot of conversations just to explain his life’s work (and, to his chagrin, to destabilize a few myths he’s accrued over the centuries). He tries to keep a level head but after a few beers though he’s hotly debating politics with three or four Kankri ghosts and has to be dragged away by Captor, who’s been following him and Leijon like a kid following their parent at a family reunion. Maryam disappeared hours ago and doesn’t get back home late, looking a little bit smug but tight-lipped about her evening. All four of them avoid the other Ancestors like the plague.

Neophyte Redglare of all of them has probably adjusted the best to this new life. Unlike the others, she’s actually gotten some friends that weren’t a part of the dream bubbles, and would happily spend most of the evening chattering with them. Still, for reasons we’ll get into it later, she spends most of it babysitting Makara and doing a bit of pitch-flirting with everyone’s favorite pir8.

Speaking of the Marquise Mindfang Spineret, like the Handmaid she protested loudly she was too cool for this party and then showed up anyways. Still, its not like she’s there to socialize. Most of what she does is spot the people who look like they might be heading off to bigger and more illegal things outside the party and without a word installing herself as part of their social circle. She invites Nitram, but her matesprit is a little occupied with an old enemy. That’s fine, she appreciates a score to settle, but its not fun if someone isn’t paying attention to her antics. Fortunately, Pyrope is happy to oblige her, and Dualscar is a delightful enough lackey while he’s still sober enough to handle it (so, for about five minutes). All told, an entert8ning evening indeed ;;;)

Executor Darkleer shows up for roughly ten minutes, near the very end, and does what he’s done at most social gatherings since they left the dream bubbles: stand awkwardly in the corner, stare at Leijon, and wonder if they’re still cool. Are they still cool? Probably? Right? But who’s to say. He absconds early to go work on his personal projects and probably punch something.

The Summoner is in peak form. Like Vantas, he has plenty of questions coming his way, and while no Nitram has ever been arrogant, he’s at least a little indulgent about some, shall we say, popular headcanons that have popped up since then. He’s slamming beers to cover up the usual low level of social anxiety (a battlefield he can handle, but a soiree is another matter altogether), and its working. He’s flirting a storm through the ballroom, something Serket is probably going to give him repercussions for. Its also making him a little, uh....confrontational, shall we say. So when he spot an old, clowny foe, well...

Oh, The Grand Highblood. 

He didn’t want to come. Full stop. Picked the wriggler with the flyer up by the back of their shirt and turned them around. Damn lucky he didn’t just throw them out. He wasn’t going to show up at this meaningless little heretical shindig, bump shoulders with strangers and be bored out of his motherfucking skull to boot. The only reason he got dragged in is Peixes didn’t give him a lot of other options. So here he is. Standing like a grim spectre of everyone’s demise, sullenly scowling at anyone who approaches and snarling at anyone who opens their protein chute in his direction.

For about five minutes.

What can I say, clowns love parties.  A couple of faygos later (if you think Condy didn’t come prepared you’re crazy) and this brawny ass goat is getting turnt out of his mind on the dancefloor. Nobody knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing with his body but its definitely deeply explicit and more than a little alarming. Still, it suits the environment, and there’s this unaccountable field of manic energy that just sort of erupts around him, escalating the party wherever he goes. Redglare has to babysit him (because Peixes, Serket and Ampora sure won’t, and who the fuck knows where Zahhak is), and even still he ends up with a busted keg dangling from one of his horns. He is feeding off of this motherfucking rhapsody tonight, fellas, and the grisly bastard has more than a few sick bars in him.

Orphaner Dualscar is decidedly less enthused. Nothing quite like being a failed romantic footnote in the only surviving account of your life to kill your rep as an intimidating pirate. He’s not adjusting well to modern life, and mostly spends the night in the corner with a solo cup, scowling at any and all. For a while he joins Serket in her activities but eventually is too soused to really participate, and she ditches him. Which is starting to become a recurring trend. He spends the rest of the night trying to seduce someone, literally, anyone, just get him out of this fucking stupid party, he’s so FUCKIN LONELY GOG-

up to you if it actually works or not.

Meanwhile, Her (Formerly) Imperial Condescension.....look, Peixes can’t stay away from a party. Even a lame-ass one for guppies 3>8(. I mean, the no killing thing is REALLY fucking cramping her style, but to be frank its more trouble than its worth. Most of them just come back as ghosts and try to bonk you back. Annoying is what it is. So, fine, she agrees, no culling. 

Doesn’t mean the party can’t at least be interesting, and that’s damn well what she brought Makara to do for her. Works like a charm, too, Makara might be a grumpy basshole but he knows how to cut loose when he wants to. She’s chanting him through chugging an entire keg on his own with a small crowd of people when she spots a familiar pair of impossibly wide horns. Ohhh shit, get the grubcorn-.....wait, is that Megido in the rafters?!

No trolls or humans were (fatally) harmed in the making of this evening’s closing act, but suffice to say the building wasn’t so lucky. Two reenactments of the more legendary battles in Alternian history (which is saying something) was more than the palace could handle. In the end they were separated and sent to dry out in separate cells, Dave using his time powers to keep a handle on the The Handmaid. 

Suffice to say it’ll be a while before any of them get another invitation.

[knight-of-heart-and-art]

(this is so fucking funny to me now)

(yes i know it's horrible)

(it's just GamTav and it was written when gamzee was still locked in the fridge okay)

Your name is Gamzee Makara. Sometimes you repeat it to yourself, just to hear something other than the motherfucking silence of space. More often you recite the names of the people you've hurt. There are a lot of names. 

They put you in this snackchest because you killed someone. Two someones. At least two. You're sorry now, but at the time you couldn't help it, they needed to die because...you can't motherfucking remember. It's been so long. "Equius Zahhak. Nepeta Lejion." Your voice is hoarser than ever. What you wouldn't give for a motherfucking Faygo, or a sopor slime pie... No, not the pie. Never again. Even though you want it so motherfucking bad that you shake, sometimes, wanting it. And Faygo has its own problems. Memories that even the thought of the taste of Faygo conjures up. "Terezi Pyrope. Karkat Vantas." You have more names, but you can't get them out around the lump in your throat. How long have you been in here? You don't know. A long time, you guess. Your friends put you in here and wrapped the snackchest with chains, put locks too large for you to break on it. For a while you could hear them talking and planning. Then you heard them fighting, dying, and rising. Then something exploded—the sound was so loud, like the death of all miracles—and since then you've heard nothing. Nothing but your own voice. The inside of the snackchest is stained purple with your blood, in places. When you realized that you were completely alone, you killed yourself. Repeatedly. Even though you never actually ascended to god tier, it seems that some motherfucking miracle has granted you the powers that go with the outfit. Even if you just made the outfit yourself in a fit of boredom and insanity. You killed yourself...how many times? Twice by strangling. Once by slamming your head against the door of the snackchest. (If you're honest, that one was an attempt to escape. You didn't mean to fracture your skull and suffer that slow, agonizing death.) Four—five? Maybe even more—at least four times by digging at your throat or wrists with your sharp fingernails, or by biting your wrists until you cut deep enough to bring jelly-violet blood bubbling or spurting out. You don't know why that's the way you keep coming back to. Maybe because it hurts the most, and you motherfucking deserve to be motherfucking hurt. "Tav," you mutter. "Tavros Nitram. Motherfucking miracle kid." Did you kill Tav? Did you? You don't remember doing anything to him, but you remember holding his body, kissing him again and again until your face was stained brownish-orange with his blood, and still he wouldn't wake up. You don't remember killing him, but what does that mean? You remember things that never happened. Dating Terezi—that didn't happen, did it? And Kanaya coming at you with her white chainsaw. She didn't do that. She killed Eridan, not you. Didn't she? If you can remember things that didn't happen, then why shouldn't you not remember things that did happen? "Motherfucking miracles." Maybe you should kill yourself again, you think. Maybe it'll take this time and you can escape this snackchest, if only in spirit. Maybe your ghost will find the ghosts of your departed friends. "Motherfucking maybes." You sigh and try to curl into a ball, as you do quite often. As always, the snackchest is too small to let you. "I never meant for things to get this motherfucking bad...sorry. I'm sorry. Tav, Karbro, Nepe-cat, Equius, Terezi, I never never never meant to kill all of you—" Something happens. Something slams into the the snackchest, or the snackchest slams into something, and you're shaken like a grub in a bucket. (That lewd image is almost enough to make you grin. Or maybe it's that you hit your head.) It feels like the snackchest is tumbling end-over-end, down a hill maybe. Which means you're somewhere with gravity. Or maybe you're just in an asteroid field, glancing off space rocks. No use getting all motherfucking optimistic. No, you're somewhere, because you can hear someone talking. It's muffled by the thick insulation of the snackchest, but there's someone there. After a while—you don't know how long, your sense of time is pretty much gone—there's a less muffled snap. And another. Whoever it is, they're cutting the chains. You count the snaps. After the fourth, there's silence again. You're pretty sure that there were only four chains holding the chest shut, so you could push the lid open now. See where you are. You're scared. You don't even know what there is to be afraid of and you're too terrified to do anything but lay there like a motherfucking wriggler. Whoever it is lifts the door of the snackchest open. You forgot just how motherfucking bright the sun is. How bright any light is. You have to squeeze your eyes shut immediately, because the light is like fire. "G-Gamzee?" You motherfucking know that voice. You have heard that voice in your dreams, in your motherfucking nightmares, for years. Even though it hurts, you open your eyes. You can't see anything. Then you can see a grey oval and a pair of blank white eyes. (Well, he is dead. You can't expect his eyes to be the same orange you remember.) A mohawk, and a pair of wide-spreading horns. "Uh, Gamzee? H-how—" You explode out of the snackchest, tackling him in a pouncehug worthy of Nepeta. He's solid and he's real, or as real as you are. "Motherfuck—Tavros, Tav, Tavbro, I motherfucking—sorry, sorry, I can't—thank you, motherfucking thank you—" Tavros is laughing, even though you knocked him onto the ground and you're currently lying on his chest and crying onto his shirt. He's laughing, and maybe crying a little, and stroking your hair. "How did you get here? Why were you in that snackchest? No, nevermind. I missed you, Gamzee." He's talking and you're talking and both of you are laughing and crying. You realize that this is a dreambubble, and you're not sure how much of this is real, but Tavros is real. Even if he is a ghost, he is as motherfucking real as you are. You don't know what the odds are against this happening. It doesn't matter. You know what this is. This is a motherfucking miracle.