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yutzen · 2 months ago

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A Quick Biological Primer on Subterraneum Citizens

(From the archives again, this time more a lorefile than a story. But I would prefer to rescue this one quickly for the sake of clarity in the future. I will be linking back here often.)

So, if you've been following me for any length of time, been keeping up with certain writing prompt accounts, or generally just stumbled onto the things I've been writing that have the Subterraneum_(Yutzen), you may have a variety of questions. Mostly ones like "the fuck's an Ifchi".

In the interest of giving folks and also myself a reference for the more appearance-based or species-related questions, and keeping track of general biology and capacities, here's a quick (by my standards) primer on each of the Subterraneum's major sentient species. Arranged in no particular order, with names (formal and very informal), basic measures and some elaboration on their looks, anatomy and more esoteric capacities, if any are involved. I will get to elaboration on their nations' actual setups on some other primer in the future, hopefully.

Included is also a quick, but probably necessary introduction on the "magic system" (for lack of better terms) in the Subterraneum, intentionally vague as it may be. The stuff goes deep enough to be biologically important after all.

Anyhow, here goes, hope it helps! And I apologize if any numbers seem ridiculous, which they'll probably be. Feel free to correct me but also physics are a little weird down there.

A NOTE ON AFFINITIES AND AMBIENT ENERGIES: It’s not just creatures that enter the Subterraneum through its various Exits. Ambient energies, background fields and other phenomena have been leaking through the rock for centuries on end, and the ever-present Radiance has blended them together over time into an uneven backdrop of strange, unrelated and even contradictory essences. The residents of the caverns have been affected by these background fields, and have changed to attune to and manipulate them in turn, with varying amounts of success.

The so-called “elemental” energies tend to manifest strongly and directly, by infused terrains and by the various species alike; whether this is part of how the elements work or an interaction (if not direct “preference”) from the Radiance it’s mixed with is unknown. Nevertheless, each of the usual species can often manifest such energies in their own unique ways, and individuals often show shockingly different affinities, even within the same species. Affinities with the Radiance itself vary similarly, though not one species can be said to be untouched by it.

It bears mentioning that the Radiance often interferes with other energies even in the midst of manipulation, adding a dose of unpredictability to the results. Those that can harness this, and tap into the Radiance’s unique metaphysical properties, can reach what is known as one of the ill-understood Sparks: Manipulation of a given element or property that actively, though selectively, breaches specific rules that usually govern it, reaching into metaphysical and sometimes even semantic territory.

Ifchi/Olms

(Singular and Plural are both Ifchi)

Average height: ~1.65 m, with length (including tail) closer to 2.2 m

Average weight: ~75 Kg (including tail)

Description: In truth they’re hardly olms, as most of their traits are closer to axolotls, down to the color variations; it varies on a spectrum, as stories tell of them being two species once that merged together post-arrival with Radiance-granted ease, leaving axolotl traits as dominant - though olm traits have been known to assert themselves in old age. Bipedal, slimy and damp at all times when healthy. They have four-fingered, nail-less hands with little strength, wiry limbs made more for quick movements than strength, and large, paddle-like tails that drag across the ground and let them swim faster than they can run. They have the expected branching frills, growing with age until they sag and droop during older ages; in especially ancient individuals they can even touch the floor. These frills can be a whole spectrum of colors themselves, too, solid but highly variable. The color tends to indicate affinity to ambient fields and energie, for these frills can sense, connect to and work as a focus when manipulating the ambient energies in a given area, Radiant or otherwise. As a result, “spellcasters” are widespread among the species, and their their manipulation of ambient fields oft takes highly recognizable, obvious forms, usually one-off high energy movements that do plenty, but don’t last long.

Ferigozi/Shard Moles

(Singular and plural are both Ferigozi)

Average Height: ~1.4 m

Average Weight: ~70 Kg, mostly (but not entirely) muscle

Description: Stout and bulky creatures on short hindlegs, with powerful forearms and hands bearing oversized claws that can crack solid stone. They have beady eyes and elongated, sensitive snouts that in some strains have extra-sensitive “whiskers” like star-nosed moles do, while others have more proper whiskers running along their snouts. Their eye-sight is lacking even by Subterraneum standards, but they have excellent senses for vibrations in the area, even minor shifts in the breeze. Early in their lifetimes they are almost entirely mole-like, with short, dense and very smooth fur in shades of brown and black; as they age, however, they start developing interlocking chitinous plates like pangolins do, reaching full tesselating coverage around middle-age. Their underbellies always remain furred, however, sometimes necessitating protection. Affinities with ambient energies are limited, and concentrated almost entirely in hands and claws, moving limited amounts of energy with very high precision. Given time and skill, however, Ferigozi can learn to infuse any and all materials with higher concentrations of a chosen ambient energy, with great control over the way they manifest into the material in question; such concentrations can take decades to dilute with a reasonably skilled practitioner.

Bannerbound/Hobgremlins

(Bannerbound works for both singular and plural)

Average height: ~1.7 m, though Bannerbound fluctuations are an exercise on why averages are more useless than you'd think

Average weight: ~70 Kg, with the same warning as above

Description: It’s theorized they started as an abundance of species rather than just one, and that the Subterraneum’s effects merged them into one; with the sheer variance in their forms, this is both likely and near-impossible to actually prove. They are the single most Radiance-susceptible species in the Subterraneum, displaying the changes of excess exposure even during early stages in their lives and going from there even when hardly exposed further. The basic and initial framework would be called humanoid, if the Subterraneum knew humans, ones with glowing eyes all over the spectrum and whose “skin” tends towards single, solid hues; beyond that everything from skin colors and hair to internal anatomy can vary depending on the individual and their affinities. Even things as basic as number and nature of limbs can vary in especially attuned Bannerbound. Their cultural imperative to hide their bodies under multiple layers of garments and secretiveness about their bodies does not help either. This extends into their interaction with ambient energies as well: They are attuned enough to the Radiance that they can infuse specific actions and even creations with the capacity to stretch, and even breach, specific principles and laws. They also have easier access to the Sparks than most other species in the Subterraneum, though their affinities with non-Radiance energies tend to be lower than usual.

Korves/Deep-Crows

(Singular Korve)

Average height: ~2.2 m

Average wingspan: ~4.7 m

Average weight: ~55 Kg

Description: Unquestionable corvids, barely straightened from a theropod stance. Tall, black-feathered and with tough beaks (and necks) that can crack flarewood with a peck. Their eyes are solid in color, often red or yellow, but highly variable in number; anywhere from one to six have been observed, often arranged asymmetrically. By themselves, Korves lack fingers on their wings, with the closest being the dexterous talons they stand on; unusually for the Subterraneum, such growths never came to pass, leaving the limbs only useful for flight and stunning blows. In theory, and in times past, they’ve made do with their legs for tasks requiring fine motor skills, but the species-wide symbiosis with otherwise infectious fungal species in the Valley have given them options: Korves are especially compatible with mycotic infiltration and growths, resisting most harmful effects and taking particular control of the species’ unique structures to the point of commanding its growth and movement. Often inoculated as hatchlings, even the most average Korve can grow finger-like protrusions at the end of their wings that can manipulate objects with a slow, but certain and powerful grip. Other such manipulations have been observed, from carved and immobile growths to whipping tendrils and all in-between, and in rare cases even modification of the symbiote with ambient energies. All this is available to a skilled and willful Korve – so long as their ravenous combined appetite remains sated at all times.

Chelies/Swallows

(Singular Cheli)

Average height: ~1.2 m

Average wingspan: ~2.5 m

Average weight: ~30 Kg

Description: While clearly avians, Chelies are more anthropomorphic (and smaller in all aspects) than the Korves, standing more directly upright. Their wings are thin and thickly-feathered, with flat, claw-like growths on the inside of the wingtip that can grasp like hands would and still fold back into the wing to keep its shape aerodynamic. In addition, they have a similarly bony, though much thicker spur closer to the base of each wing, naturally sharp and often given further edge by the Chelies themselves. Between that, their raptor-like talons and beaks that have lengthened and sharpened with generations, their resemblance to actual swallows nowadays is dubious – though they still retain their red and blue plumage, even thicker and more intensely colorful than ever before. Their need for flight has given them strong, though wiry musculature that grants them speed and agility alike, showing less maneuverability but greater speed than Vezarym in the air. Unlike the Vez – and most Subterraneum species at that – Chelies have excellent eyesight, both close up and at a distance, able to pick out details and movement even in the most spore-choked of caverns. When it comes to ambient energies, they seem entirely unable to affect inorganic materials, or themselves for that matter: Every effect they can induce through their claws and spurs is a “slow burn” applied to other living beings. This is most often applied in their well-known fungal gardens, manipulating otherwise mundane species into something else entirely.

Troxi/Quillskinks

(Singular and plural are both Troxi)

Average height: 1.3 m, with length including tail closer to 2.1 m

Average weight: ~45 kg (including tail)

Description: Skinks is not necessarily the right term, they have too many hints of theropod (and maybe even kobold) in them to truly call them such, but they are reptiles nonetheless. Troxi always have long, whip-like tails that can be shed and regrown, almost always longer than the rest of their bodies, their eyes have invariably slit pupils, and their scales are always in patterns of three different colors. As a norm, their bodies and limbs are toned and slender, with small, yet rough scales. However, this is but a guideline: Variations and mutations – scarce at first, yet reliably transmissible unlike Bannerbound alterations – have made themselves present startlingly quickly, putting the species in biological flux since the establishment of the Republics proper. It’s speculated this is the same process of accelerated “evolution” that affected all previous dwellers, though all projections hint that it’s happening far faster than expected, for unknown and oft-speculated reasons. Whatever the truth may be, Troxi can be seen with different scale patterns and types, spikes along their sides, variable tongues, among many other possibilities. The newest generations even exhibit one uniform change in comparison to their forebears: The emergence of a pattern of colorful feathers along the ridge of their backs, never equal between Troxi yet always present. It’s this newest alteration to the species that’s given them their informal (and sometimes unwanted) nickname.

Shumhaq/Sandhusks

(Singular and plural remain the same)

Average height: ~0.9 m (length including tail is closer to 2.1 m)

Average weight: ~85 kg

Description: Semi-upright arthropods like the rest of their “family”, Shumhaq are closer to arachnids than insects, and closer to scorpions than spiders in that regard; they are the tallest of the Hive members, with the hardest exoskeletons as well. Their framework varies relatively little compared to other Subterraneum species: Six strong, chitinous legs their bulbous, armored abdomens stand on, a scorpion tail that stretches back complete with a sharp stinger, and an upright, armored half with an eighteen-eyed head with grinding chelicerae. Their grasping limbs are “concentric” pincers, with a large, crushing pair surrounding a smaller, more dexterous set of pincers that fit neatly within sockets at the base. Their stingers secrete toxins, with variable but powerful effects that can be affected by the infusion of ambient energies – the only manipulation of such Shumhaq appear capable of – which change how they affect biology and even inanimate materials. Much like other Hive members, they have different castes, but they vary very little in comparison, simply altering their anatomical proportions; mostly, their stingers and their claws tend to be inversely correlated in size. Shumhaq as a whole are, in fact, particularly hardened against any altering and mutating effects, whether Radiance-related or not – it is suspected their genetic sequences and general anatomy have “hardened” in response to such exposure to the point of “burning out” any capacity for further change.

Syhaq/Candlebees

(Singular and plural remain the same)

Average height: ~0.7 m (length is closer to 1.8 m)

Average wingspan: ~2 m

Average weight: ~60 Kg, though often heavier thanks to wax production

Description: Semi-upright arthropods like the rest of their “family”, Syhaq are undoubtedly bee-like in look and physiognomy; they are the shortest of the Hive members, and often the portliest. They all have iridescent wings, fuzzy, stout abdomens striped in black and white, four furred legs to bear their weight, and four-fingered hands at the end of two chitinous limbs, as well as oversized compound eyes with unusual white bioluminiscence. Their antennae are often thick and a foot long at minimum, and the main source of the beeswax Syhaq are known for: They’re used to both secrete the substance in significant amounts, sculpt it as it goes, and even infuse it with varied elemental energies that create different “recipes” with very different properties. This is far from the only place this wax comes from, however; their entire bodies are almost always covered in the stuff, clumping together if not groomed, and in certain overproductive castes they often form stiff “tendrils” (much like planthopper nymphs) that the Syhaq can sculpt to their leisure for different purposes. Another anatomical matter that depends on the caste is the presence of a stinger; not all of them have one, and in those that do its effects can vary from a simple, empty stabbing weapon to an injector of powerful paralytic toxins.

Zivhaq/Flayer Bugs

(Singular and plural remain the same)

Average height: ~1 m (length is closer to 2.7 m)

Average weight: ~45 Kg

Description: Semi-upright arthropods like the rest of their “family”, Zivhaq are the longest, slimmest and most anatomically complicated of the Hive members, most resembling a blend of centipede and praying mantis. Their elongated, wingless abdomens stand upon dozens of long, sharp legs that stop abruptly once the thorax begins – from there, four more limbs sprout, two of which end in four-fingered hands while the uppermost pair ends in sharp, scythe-like extremities that can be tucked almost completely into their bodies. Their faces have flat compound eyes, elongated, flexible chelicerae and long antennae that split apart into multiple shifting protrusions. The entirety of their frame is highly flexible, and Zivhaq have a highly developed kinesthetic sense that gives them excellent control of it. They can squirm through gaps mere inches in diameter, curl themselves up tightly and stretch their own limbs to almost twice their size. This combination is the result of unique adaptations for the sake of disguising themselves as other species: Zivhaq gain their nickname by the capacity to use discarded exoskeletons, pelts and actual skin of other creatures to impersonate them, by crawling and puppeteering such exteriors with their abundant extremities and highly flexible vocal apparatus. Such capacities have naturally pushed them to the fringes from the expected paranoia, making their societies highly secretive. This has made the deeper details of their anatomy, including any ambient energy manipulation, very difficult to publicly discern.

Nirhaq/Longbrook’s Moths

(Singular and plural remain the same)

Average height: ~0.8 m (length is closer to 1.8)

Average wingspan: ~3.5 m

Average weight: ~25 Kg

Description: Semi-upright arthropods like the rest of their “family”, Nirhaq are entirely lepidopteran, closest to moths but still bearing elements of butterflies when it comes to their wings; their anatomies are the most enigmatic of the Hive members, with little study in comparison to the others. Standing upon four fluffy legs, with elongated and thickly-furred abdomens, and six-fingered hands at the end of two fuzzy limbs at their thorax, they tend towards darker colors in both fur and chitin. They have large, compound eyes that shine in the dark with elaborate patterns, curled antennae that twitch and twist, and dexterous proboscii with tiny chelicerae at the end that can slowly snip off solid food. The most intriguing part of their anatomies is their wings: Moth-like or butterfly-like, with the occasional merge of transparencies and opacities between them, they always bear elaborate patterns that shift at the Nirhaq’s will, and have a variety of instinctual displays seemingly kept in their “genetic” memory, which can be expanded further through learning. It is here that their intrigue lies: These Hive members have instinctive access to a variety of supernatural symbology and “languages” that bypass mental filters on perception and directly “tell” the brain to perceive certain things, imposing audiovisual illusions over their forms that are partially at the Nirhaq’s control. This makes them the most secretive of the Hive members, often passing themselves as citizens of other species throughout their lives.

Vezarym/Thrumhorn Bats

(Vezarym works for both singular and plural)

Average height: ~2.4 m

Average wingspan: ~5.5 m

Average weight: ~45 Kg

Description: Tall, slender chiropterans with enormous wingspan and powerful footclaws, graceful in flight and upside-down yet always hunched by the weight of their wings when standing upright. They have arms beneath their wings, an additional pair of limbs with vestigial membranes of their own to aid in steering, and actual (if delicate) hands. Their snouts are closer to fruit bats, though unusual protrusions from their noses are very common, and their needled fangs work on meat and mushroom alike. Their eyesight is decent, but very short, aided by their bioluminescent eyes (usually but not always yellow) when it comes to perceiving what’s right in front of them, but falling off mere meters away. Vezarym have appropriately huge ears with “concentric” growths within that seemingly aid in focusing sound, aiding their pin-point echolocation alongside their powerful lungs and bony throat ridges that serve as both amplifiers and protection. Sitting between their ears are short horns shaped like a lyre, that thrum with sound both emitted and received – this is believed to aid in both echolocation and regular listening, but it’s theorized they are also fundamental in ambient energy perception and manipulation. Said manipulation is always subtle, never forceful, seemingly resonating and either amplifying or dampening a given element (or several) in the area, with stronger effects when working together: Multiple harmonizing Vezarym can completely shift a place’s elemental alignment for however long their ‘song’ lasts.

Toskars/Shard Badgers

(singular Toskar)

Average height: ~1.9 m

Average weight: ~120 Kg

Description: Heavyset creatures, taller than the Ferigozi while keeping similar (initial) musculature. Their tough and unruly fur is always vertically striped, often black and white, though there are some who can have very light cyan and/or deep, dark blue instead. They have somewhat oversized hands and feet on relatively short, though muscular limbs, with tough (though blunt) claws upon all digits. Toskars are not wholly badgers, and even in their early lives they show some seal-like traits like webbing between their fingers and a layer of insulating fat under their hides. With age, their fur grows thicker and tougher still – with time, the fur on their backs starts to harden into chitinous, sharpened quills that bristle when the Toskar feels tense or threatened. More pinniped traits start manifesting more intensely as well, with males and females alike growing further, bulking up and often growing thick, quilly mustaches; some select castes even develop small tusks where their fangs once were as they reach middle age. Their affinities with ambient energies rarely manifest more than a few inches outside of their bodies, with no clear focus organ or limb. Much like the Ferigozi, they can learn to infuse material with such energies, but such infusions rarely last beyond a few hours. However, they find the manipulation and infusion of energies within their own organic material much easier, letting skilled practitioners empower their bodies in unpredictable ways.

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inkedkoi · 5 months ago

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Bingo Card: Part Six

Continuation of "Hold On To “What If”: Overanalyzing and Rewriting Sonic Prime" essay

[Once Again, spoilers for Sonic Prime, all media here belong to their respective creators.]

✨//🌻//✨

And now, we’ve come along to the last row, the one most of you are waiting for:

My Ending Predictions!!!

As anyone has done, I was theorizing how the show would end. These endings may seem pretty vague because 1) I'm not a show writer, and 2) I wanted to get a bingo. I had plenty of interpretations but when I wanted to put them onto my bingo card, I decided to categorize them into one of the five general endings:

The “Tech” Ending

Sonic had a huge impact on every one of the group's world, back once again to the "Shatterspaces could be what each character needs to be" in the Connections section. I think it would be great if he gave one of the four tech accessories to each important character since he no longer needs them. It could be a nod to Sonic's character in general that he kept the gifts given by the friends he made from his adventures, like Sonic Unleashed. It's literally the biggest aspect of his character, that he really cares about his friends. LIke I said, since he has four, he could get give one to every group from each world (that has living Mobians, of course).

One to Kraken crew for the lesson of loyalty,

One to the Boscage Gang for the lesson of trust,

One to Nine for the lesson of hope and perseverance

and Sonic keeps the last one, to remember the journey they had together

Label: "N/A": nope, those pieces just went "poof" (I'm fine, I'm not crying I swear)

The “Chosen One” Ending

Time for different interpretations of this ending:

1) What if the Shatterverse already existed before the Shattering (refer back to Prism has been broken before cycle box if needed) and Sonic was chosen to solve the issues each world has? Which in turn, would that mean that Sonic was destined to cause the Shattering?

2) Sonic is the only one able to travel between worlds after he returns to Green Hill, so he's able to reunite with everyone.

Label "N/A": Not even close...

The “Baymax” Ending

We literally only had Chaos Sonic for like one episode, S2 EP6 (no, his appearance at the end of the previous episode doesn't count). Personally, I love Chaos Sonic, he's just a silly guy :)

listen i just enjoy silly little guys

I wanted to connect this to the Sonic look-alikes theory, that once Sonic makes it to Green Hill, his look-alikes would appear. Each one would have the "purpose" that is connected to the world. Since the Council did have Chaos Sonic's body and with the Rebellion winning over, I would like to think that Nine would find Chaos Sonic out of the rumble left behind. (I do hope Nine does go back to New Yoke.)

Just like in the Big Hero 6 movie, Nine may be motivated by how much he missed Sonic and could try to reprogram Chaos Sonic to be more like the hedgehog he knows. A hero who gave everyone hope. Plus, if the Sonic look-alike theory is true, we don't need to come up with a New Yoke look-alike from scratch, the Prism already gave us one.

Label "N/A": Chaos Sonic, you shall be missed. RIP to you king 🕊️

The “Canon” Ending

We got a sort of news that the show fits within the canon timeline of the Sonic franchise. From what I think, I really don't mind if the show is canon, the show is alright on its own. Plus, it could just be an alternate universe thing, kind of like Sonic Underground (triplets born, the throne awaits).

Label "X": This one is a bit iffy because it's kind of confirmed and it's kind of not. Not to mention the fans arguing about this. So in the end, I decided to interpret it as "possibility for multiverse shenanigans". Giant question mark there.

The “Forgotten” Ending

I had a few interpretations for this ending:

1) You know how in time travel movies they say "you can't meet your past/future self or all the universe will collapse" and when it did happen, they sometimes merge to become one. Yeah, that's what I imagined it to be. When there was the "each of the OG cast's personalities split up into the look-alikes for each world" theory, I think rebuilding the Prism would connect them all back to the OG cast. As much as I don't want it to be true, this is what I imagine would happen it was. Anyway, all the look-alikes would merge together to be the OG cast, and therefore the existence of the look-alikes would be forgotten. I really hope it isn't this one because it would be really depressing if it was.

2) When Sonic and Shadow return to Green Hill, none of the OG cast have any recollection of what happened after the Shattering.

3) Related to #2, it would be devasting if Sonic and Shadow didn't remember anything about it either. Then again, it could explain the legends thing I was talking about in my Prism has been broken before box, the fact that Sonic could be the one starting every cycle but when he ends it, no one can remember. But maybe, in between cycles, he or someone else has it recorded in some way for Rouge to find this information about the Prism.

4) Ok, technically this isn't an interpretation, it's more me not believing in the higher-ups. I'm not blaming everyone in the crew, but just like in any show, some don't care about the show or the fans. And unfortunately, they are the ones with the most control over the project. After I finished season two, I've been listening to review videos while I draw, getting second opinions over what the fans think. Not every project is perfect, that I understand. But a good project, at least what I think, is good because the crew acknowledges the fans and has such a passion for working on the project. From what I heard, the viewers wanted a satisfying ending, just as I do. But I don't trust a 100% that it will end the way we expect it to.

Label "X": I was right on #2 and 4, the OG cast even noticed a change in Sonic's behavior. And of course, the ending we got was very abrupt and it's likely a last-minute decision to go with it. I'm sure there are people in the crew who wished it ended better. That's why fans have the power to rewrite.

(Yeah, this is a short post compared to the rest but this will be very important later in the Rewrite)

To be continued...

Previous Part || Next Part || Masterpost

#🌻 hold on to what if

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dorki-c · 4 years ago

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My Guardian Demon |Chapter 1, Part 2: Two Dreams

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X (Reader)

Rating: 16+

A/N: Hey! Hey! Hey! Everybody! I just wanted to let you all know that in the beginning of this series like prologue story arc wise, I will only be highlighting the main points of said story arc.

TW: Suffocation and depiction of injury!

[Masterlist] [<--- Previous| Next --->]

(Song reccomendation for this chapter: Feeling Good by Michael Bublé)

PROMPT QUESTION FOR THIS STORY ARC: Are all demons ‘bad’?

When leaving the school gates with a silent warning that he gave to (y/n), there were a few minor details bothering him when traversing through the empty streets leading home.

At least he was able to walk alone to clear the commotion of todays events.

Sure, Izuku was used to Bakugou’s harassment towards him. For the most part, his mind always filtered out the nasty phrases that were thrown at him for the longest time.

However, what Bakugou had said was completely out of line.

Telling Izuku to commit suicide? Wow, what a great friend he was (if you could even call him that…).

Though the green-haired boy could easily say that about (y/n) as well. Even though its him and his stupid demon against society.

Was he sure that something may happen today? No, absolutely not. Even when turning a corner of the semi-suburban area that was closest to Aldera Junior High school, Izuku isn’t clairvoyant to anything that involves him.

Nope, not at all.

Even when making his way under the dark tunnel (to which he ignores his demon trying to hold him back from going in there, saying something along the lines of “W-w-wait! I don’t want to go down this way…”), Izuku still holds his head up high and ventures down the tunnel.

Like I said before, the green-haired boy isn’t clairvoyant that involves around him.

Plus, that shouldn’t exempt him from being cautious about what might lurk in the shadows.

Until this point, (y/n) only spoke in short sentences, though the only thing that caught Izuku off guard was the shaky utterance of “Izuku…L-Look behind you!”

He regrets looking behind him; A thing manifesting as a large murky green glob, paired with two large eyes and razor layered teeth (that scarcely resembled shark teeth), loomed over the 14 year old’s body.

I-I-It’s a villain!

As soon as Izuku blinked, one moment he was free and scrambling to his feet (fearful of the sludge villain) and the next, his body was trapped in something slimy… The green sludge body dripped with viscous thick globs as it wrapped like a vice around the boy. With a waterfall of pleading cut short and shown through desperate green eyes as Izuku squirmed annoyingly to the villain, there was no chance of escaping because he would be dead “in a minute” tops.

In a vain attempt to free Izuku from the grasps of the villain, the demon’s futile attempts to scratch away at the slime, only resulted in their misty hands to pass through the slime like their hand was non-existent.

Fuck—If a damn hero isn’t going to save Izuku, then it has to be his demon’s duty to do so.

Though it’s quite challenging for (y/n) to grip Izuku’s shoulders and pull him forward, it doesn’t have enough energy to stall for time.

Was fate cursing (y/n) again? The sun was up high in the sky, yet it always deceived the unguarded and weakest of them all. Didn’t it? If it wasn’t for the saving grace of a frisbee object hitting the villain in the eye, the sludge villain recoiled backwards and (thankfully) released its hostage, where the boy’s limp body met face first into the pavement.

Staying close to Izuku’s unconscious body, (y/n) watched as the pro-hero blatantly invaded their owner’s space and didn’t hear their screeching of something along the words of “DISGUSTING!!!” and “AAAAAAAH BEGONE! BEGONE! BEGONE!!” And the boy wasn’t woken up because of the cheek slaps, it was because of (y/n)’s obnoxious protests of the pro-hero’s cheek slaps.

Let’s not forget the loudest sigh released by the demon when one, Izuku (finally) woke himself up, and two, when that (god forsaken flimsy, annoying, outrageous) hero, was actually the number 1 hero, has retracted his hand from the demon’s owner.

(And (y/n) definitely called the number one hero “a filthy maggot that is followed by an equally filthy contra-” before they were tuned out of Izuku’s ears.)

“Ah! Thought we lost you there!” Announced the hero (to nobody in particular).

This, unfortunately, caused Izuku to pale- where it practically looked like his whole face lost all of its colour, including his eyes- and for (y/n) to think (if they even have thoughts in the first place…) that if there was a camera pointed straight at their face, it would show the most horrifying deadpanned expression on the demon’s non-existent face which would break the camera lens.

Screaming and scampering backwards, Izuku only managed to utter the words “C-C-CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH!!” before seeing his notebook (which was coincidently fish food a couple of minutes ago) signed by the hero and bowing to said hero out of gratefulness, although knowing their owner; (y/n) figured that Izuku would obviously cherish this autograph as a ‘family heirloom’.

(Izuku may or may not have blurted that out in the moment. Oh well. You can’t take everything you say back.)

“I have a question…” Murmured the green haired boy as the hero turned tail to “deliver this villain to the police station!” Sadly, the hero didn’t hear him and was about to leave the boy, where his demon was shaking their head in disappointment- “Why bother asking him?” Whispered (y/n), leaving the faint trace of their empty temperature to scarcely brush his cheek, “The man in front of you is a mere façade of bravery.” - it’s not like Izuku cares about his demon’s opinion.

Even when it’s in situations like this.

(And by situations, I mean when Izuku and his demon are clutching for dear life on the infamous hero’s legs when flying more than fifty feet above the ground.)

Looking below his feet, Izuku is always reminded that great power also has a greater price to it.

And well, All Might would probably agree (if it weren’t for being airborne).

Additionally, why did it look like you were enjoying him scream in fear for his life, when you know that if he dies, you die too.

(Was his demon secretly a sadist?!)

The landing was rocky and rough, but at least his feet managed to stand on their own after a few moments of wobbling and the small rub of your hand against his to beckon him to stand “tall and proud for being uniquely him”.

Glancing towards the hero, (y/n) scoffed in disgust at the retreating soldier whereas Izuku only begged him to “Wait,” continuing along with an unspoken prayer casted off to the sky and “one second!” to remain.

“No!”

It’s typical of a hero to say that word, but situations like this aren’t.

“I don’t have any time.” --- “I have to know!” --- “Why do you bother with him, Izuku?”

The years of quirklessness weren’t new to him. Though he wanted more.

“Even if everyone thinks I’m useless…” Izuku wanted more fulfilment for himself.

“Despite what anybody thinks.” (Y/n) wanted freedom for themself.

“I need to know.” The two of them had dreams.

“Is It possible to become a hero, without a quirk?” Even with a fearless grin, the man before the aftermath was the symbol of peace.

Well to put it simply, the embodiment of peace was secretly a human coat hanger. Now, how would the murky red demon and green haired boy react to said human coat hanger?

Uh…Yeah, they’re both screaming; Izuku was doing it out of horror, (y/n) was doing it out of disgust.

(This is a typical occurrence.)

“WHERE’S ALLMIGHT?!” The worn-down skeleton of a man looked like a couple of popsicle sticks were stuck together with Elmer’s glue as the artist called it a day. Looking left to right, then again, and finally- just for good luck- glanced left and right, as society always said, “Third time is the charm”.

“You! You’re not him!” Izuku profoundly screeched, where in fact both his demon and scrawny adult rolled their eyes. “Izuku, you don’t even have his birth certificate to prove that he—” Though poor (y/n) got cut off by Allmight proclaiming “You know how guys at pools like to suck in their muscles and flex at the same time?” The flaxen haired male then said “I’m kind of like that…” which did nothing to soothe the teenager’s shock.

“What! No! Allmight isn’t some scrawny—old—depressed looking human being!” Oh boy, your owner was as stubborn as an old mule.

“Izuku, stop what your—” Again, (y/n) was cut off by another person, “All Might’s is a hero with a fearless grin who beats every obstacle!”

“Kid, there’s plenty of fear behind a smile. Don’t be fooled.” The rustling of a white shirt caught the attention of the demon and human alike. And what it revealed…well…it was pretty nauseating.

“Pretty gross, isn’t it?”

The merged sickening stitching of skin pulled together in a makeshift attempt to preserve as the hero’s body, at the epicentre of the wound was a thick encircled glob of pink that seemed to allow an abundance of conjoined violet speckles to extend outwards in an attempt to infect the rest of his body.

“I got this in a fight around five years ago.” Relaxing his body, and moving the shirt downwards, the hero continued, “My respiratory system was destroyed, I lost my stomach, and the rest is history.” Even if his shitty joke didn’t lift the depressing tone of reality, all Izuku could do is stand there in shock—maybe a tad bit of horror— however he would’ve never thought that the one and only top hero of Japan had an injury!

(Izuku’s naïve thinking always rubbed his demon the wrong way sometimes.)

“W-wait! Does that mean Toxic Chainsaw gave you this injury!” Chuckling and turning his glance to the side, All Might shook his head. “I’m impressed, you know your stuff- however, that punk couldn’t land a couple hits on me, even if they wanted to.” “Most of the world wouldn’t have known about this fight, regardless of how much you dug through any news articles.”

(And most of the world would’ve never known about the deadly purple miasma growing on their precious hero’s body.) .

“This job isn’t easy, and to be nice—” At least Izuku would listen to All Might, whereas he ignored you at least 50% of the time, “—I think you would be better off picking a better profession, like a Police officer!”

------------------------------------------

“I mean he is right…” (Y/n) said to Izuku, as they continued their trek back home, with the boy loathful to agree at the red mist’s statement.

“Heroism isn’t easy.” Maybe he should give up his dream?

“You saw how disgusting his wound was.” He could be horribly injuried like All Might if he tries. “It’s practically oozing with miasma.” But Izuku can’t bring himself to give up his dream.

And if Izuku ever asked you to give up your dream of freedom, you would answer back with defiance.

“I know it isn’t easy (y/n).”

“I know I could die or get a wound like that.”

“But I’m not giving up on my dream, if you aren’t going to give up on yours.”

Alas, the gloriously golden sun highlighted the features of the old dusk that was soon turning into their new dawn.

(And might I say, if society got in their way, they will pay their dues the hard way.)

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @izukubabe, @sweater-weather-seven, @nyanyabisjjj, @quietlegends, @dragonsdreamoffire, @candybabey, @honeylavender13

CREDITS:

All content and art used within this story belongs to their respective owners. PLAGARISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Art credits: Dorki-C and @glitterfreezed

[MASTERLIST OF “My Guardian Demon”] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

#Izuku midoriya bnha #Izuku midoriya mha #Izuku midoriya #Izuku midoriya x y/n #Mha Au #Bnha au #Toshinori Yagi #Toshinori Yagi mha #All Might bnha #All Might mha #mha x reader #Mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #Izuku Midoriya X Reader

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ivy-kissobryos · 4 years ago

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Defining Witchcraft

This post is made in response to some topics I find commonly debated about within the Thai witchcraft community, but I want to post the English version here too. I will never tell someone who is or isn’t a witch- that is for you to decide. But if you claim to practice traditional witchcraft, especially those which lean towards western traditional witchcraft, then I will argue that the word ‘witch’ has a weight and history to it which you cannot ignore. It has a meaning.

A witch, traditionally, is someone to be feared. A witch to the common folk is a terrifying figure, at times appearing vindictive, ‘intent on wrecking economic and physical havoc’ (Tangherlini, 2000). As discovered from stories and court proceedings collected between the seventeenth century to early twentieth century, witches have been accused of horrific crimes, ranging from assult to sabotage, poisoning to larceny and kidnapping to murder (Tangherlini, 2000). The book by Bever (2008) also name the crimes commonly associated with witchcraft to include ‘harming livestock’, and ‘physical acts like poisoning and surreptitious battery of children and animals through ailments’, and ‘cursing’ through ways such as ‘subliminal forms of communication like eye contact’. Hence, a witch is someone who practices ‘maleficium’, a word which originally meant ‘wrongdoing’ or ‘mischief’, but later became specifically associated with harmful magic in Roman times (Bever, 2008). Between veneficium and casting the evil eye and worse, witches were never good.

The usage of natural materials within the casting of witches’ spells were also commonplace. Historians have found ‘various cursed things, or fatture,’ like ‘bones ... human nails ... seeds ... coals ... and the teeth of the dead’ which were ‘found in a sick woman’s mattress’ (Bever, 2008). Curses, as done in the past, were not pretty and palatable. Likewise, ‘a mixture called lazaro puzzolente containing quicksilver, urine, and asafetida resin was known to be made to work a similar magic when placed under victims’ thresholds’ (Bever, 2008). Bottling urine and harmful material under the ground of someone’s threshold is a classic method to curse an enemy. Historians had also discovered ‘spells, herbs, roots ... and hair’ believed to ‘cause hailstorms and untimely frosts, sickness in man and beast; impotence; miscarriage and death’, alongside other forms of sympathetic magic such as ‘cursing tablets’ where one sample was made with ‘the skin and bones of a frog, which had been pierced by several large pins’ found at the ‘bottom of a well’, and curse poppets were also found historically, an example being ‘a wax figure with a pin through it’ (Bever, 2008).

Witches also work with an otherworldly entity (or entities) who teaches them and guides them, the most infamous being the Devil. Who the Devil is is a question for you to discover on your own. Witches of the past has been reportedly flying to meet the Devil in what is called a Sabbath. Bever (2008) touches upon this, noting that ‘witches flew to Sabbaths to worship the Devil through a variety of obscene rites, including perversions of the Christian sacraments’. Those familiar with witchcraft may notice that the description of the ‘perversions of the Christian sacraments’ sound similar to what many practicing witches call the ‘red meal’, which can be one way to commune with otherworldly forces. There have also been numerous claims and confessions of those who claimed to have met the Devil.

A man named Hanß described the Devil to be ‘a black man with horns’, who had appeared ‘to him both day and night, scaring and threatening him’ until one night ‘he had finally agreed to give himself to the Devil, who thereupon carried him to the “merry and happy” festivities where he saw the women and the musician.’ This description of the Devil as a horned dark man fits traditional folklore well, and so does the tale of the Sabbath. In the tale, ‘at the dance, the Devil fussed over him, carried him on his shoulders, brought him bread and meat, “told him to call him father, and called him his son,” and eventually carried him back home’ (Bever, 2008). This correlates with how many traditional witches nowadays may associate the Devil with the Witchfather, the father of witches and maker of witches (as I have seen the term Witchmaker used too).

The relationship with the Devil may also be partly devotional, like a woman who claimed that ‘she did homage to him’ and prayed ‘I worship you, oh lord and Devil, attend my soul’. This is similar to the admission of Maria Gekin’s testimony, who claimed to have said an incantation that dedicated herself to him:

To the Devil I want to be, To the Devil I want to stay, To the Devil I want to be bound, To the Devil want never from his hand, The Devil has made me, The Devil has saved me, The Devil has sanctified me, In his hands I want to stay, To the Devil I want always and eternally to be.

All of the above claims are explored in Bever (2008).

Historically, there have been claims about uses of a salve: an ‘ointment witches reputedly used to travel to their dances’ (Bever, 2008). The witch Apolonia, whose case occurred late in the period of the witch trials, claimed to have used the ointment which is commonly referred to as the flying ointment. Moreover, Apolonia reported her ‘flights to the witch dances’ to have ‘merged dream content with reality’. The concept of an oneiric Sabbath is also commonplace today among currently practicing traditional witches, with groups such as the Cultus Sabbati placing a high importance on the concept of the dream Sabbaths. An interesting point that should be taken into account though is that in the past and in certain cultures, there is no difference between dreams and reality. Likewise, as stated in Bever (2008): ‘dreams in which the dreamer was transported to another place to participate in magical events and which the dreamer experienced as real rather than as dreams, were, as we have seen, experienced in other parts of early modern Europe, and indeed, were recorded in other cases in Württemberg, by younger people whose cerebral integrity was not in question.’ It can be concluded that these witches who flew in their dreams were not insane, and their experiences should not be dismissed just because they were dreams.

These spirit flights or dream flights were not also known to be just flights where witches fly to meet the Devil, but witchcraft can be accomplished through these journeys. Bever (2008) notes that ‘in Slovenia sorcerers flew to fight against each other in trance or dream, as some Siberian shamans claimed to, and some Hungarian witches both fell into trances to make soul journeys and also were said to abduct victims and transport them similarly to their revelries’. Similarly, ‘other Hungarian practitioners specialized in traveling to the land of the dead while in trance and in Milan, ‘four women claimed in the late 1300s that they had ‘ecstatic experiences with the ‘good lady and her folk’ and were therefore able to cure and to look into the future’. Soul flight can be used to connect all kinds of otherworldly forces, and knowledge can be gleaned and lessons learnt from these flights.

Aside from the aforementioned acts accomplished by the old witches, a concept which I believe is integral to walking the path of traditional witchcraft is the concept of initiation, through which a witch faces spirit death and their eventual rebirth. Not only were witches ‘thought to gain from their attendance at the Sabbaths the power and knowledge to commit maleficium’, some historians believed that ‘the next step in a witch’s initiation was to fly to a witch dance at which she worshipped the Devil with other witches.’ Other historians disagree, claiming that ‘shamanic initiation often, but not always, involves a ritual experience of death and rebirth, while a witch’s initiation did not’. Still, the author of the previous quote added that ‘the witch’s renunciation of her Christian identity and assumption of a new, diabolical one could be seen as a symbolic equivalent, and overall the parallels seem strong enough to raise the question of what possible connection there might be’ (Bever, 2008).

In my personal view, cutting off old vows, making new vows, initiating, dying and being reborn is vital to being a witch in the traditional sense. To quote Aaron Oberon, a practicing witch and author of Southern cunning:

Folkloric witchcraft in the American South: ‘initiation is a death [...] something in you has to die in order to be initiated, to be given the information or power these spirits have. Sometimes initiation can result in physical illness, life changing events, job losses, or emotional upheaval’. Oberon (2019) stated that ‘initiation comes from spirits, and so what the spirits put you through is going to be different for each person […] It is incredibly personal and involves being torn apart.’

I will not go into detail about my personal practice, but every word he says rings true. In my view, to have something bore your way through your very spirit and irrevocably change you is what it means to be a witch.

So far, my attempts to define witchcraft has been quite negative. Yet, a witch does more than maleficum too. To quote Vita Tortuosa, a book co-written by Daniel Schulke, the presiding Magister of Cultus Sabbati: the path he practices is the path which ‘serve with both hands alike’. To ‘serve with both hands’ is an idiom that is commonly said among the traditional witches I have known, meaning that a witch may do harm with one hand and give blessings with the other. Magic is manipulation and so is witchcraft. Bever (2008) had found from cases of witch trials that:

‘[...] among the manipulative uses of magic, healing was by far the most important, accounting for half the manipulative cases, or almost a third of all beneficent magical practices, and was almost as numerous as all types of divination combined. Furthermore, the other kinds of manipulative magic comprised a polyglot miscellany including various enhancements to normal human capacities like strength and marksmanship; a limited number of magical countermeasures against natural and supernatural aggression by others; exorcism of bothersome spirits; a few cases involving claims of truly supernatural powers; and a couple of occurrences that were anomalous even within the magical worldview of early modern Europe.’

Witches can heal and bless and are capable of more than harm, just as there is more to magic than cursing. Not all magical practitioners are witches, but witches are a type of magical practitioner. Moreso than hurting or blessing, witches are liminal creatures, dealing with life and death and spirits and ghosts and necromancy. Bever (2008) describes how ‘technically, necromancy meant conjuring the spirits of the dead, but in the late Middle Ages it was used more broadly to refer to conjuring spirits in general’. Witches are spirit workers, as modern occultists may say. To be a witch is to work with the Otherworld, to have a foot standing in this world and the other planted in another.

Witches historically have also used the power of words and poetry to their benefit. Take this case study explored in Bever (2008), done by the accused witch Maria who was said to use an incantation to keep a horse from eating. For the curious, the incantation went:

Your mouth must blocked be, Your mouth must stopped be, You are the Devil’s, You must bewitched be, You must the Devil’s be You won’t eat for 24 hours.

At the risk of providing a checklist and a box one must fit to be considered a ‘witch’, I want to again state that this essay is simply exploring what it means to be a witch from a historical perspective. You decide what it means for you, but to fly, to curse, to bless, to work with spirits, to deal with some Devil, to initiate and die and be reborn and more- that is what I mean when I say the word ‘witch’.

Diverging slightly from the main topic and venturing more into the area of UPG, I want to argue that at its core, this tradition of witchcraft has existed since over two thousand years ago. As explored in Ogden (2009), pharmakeia - which is the art of poison and magic from plants - has been practiced since the times of Ancient Greek. Likewise, there also existed the usage of bindings known as ‘katadeseis’, whether it be through binding tablets or kolossoi dolls. And so is the use of incantations, referred to as epoidai. Necromancy was also talked about in the past, with ‘divination from the dead’ described in Homer’s Odyssey. Hekate and Medea and Circe are witches and witch-goddesses people may typically think of when hearing about Ancient Greek witchcraft.

Moreover, consider this quote from Ogden (2009) by Ovid, writing about the drunken bawd-witches:

“She knows the craft of magic and Aeaean incantations. By her craft she turns flowing waters back to their source. She knows all too well the powers of the herb, the threads twisted by the spinning rhombos-wheel, and the secretion of the mare in love. At her wish, clouds crowd over the entire heaven; at her wish, the daylight shines in a clear sky. If you believe it, I have seen the stars dripping with blood. The face of the moon was deep red with blood. I suspect that she shape-shifts and flits about among the shades of the night and that her old body is covered with feathers. This is what I suspect, and this is what they say. Also, double pupils flash from her eyes, and the beams shine from twin circles. She calls forth great-grandfathers and the great-grandfathers of great-grandfathers from their ancient tombs and cleaves open the solid ground with a protracted incantation.”

The quote from a 1st-century BC poet bears striking resemblance to what I consider to be a witch of the traditional, crooked path. It describes a witch who uses incantations, who draws power from the herbs and natural materia, who commands the natural world like a witch commanding the wind to howl or rain to fall, someone who practices necromancy and perhaps ancestor veneration, and also perhaps what we now call spirit flight as she ‘shape-shifts and flits about among the shades of the night’ in a feathered form of a fetch. Personally, the description of the moon and stars dripping with blood reminds me chillingly of not just the witches of Thessaly but also the witches of America, as it speaks similarly of a ritual where a silver bullet is used to kill the moon and initiate the witch (Davis, 1975).

In conclusion, the craft has been alive far, far longer than we are. Therefore, there is a history associated with witchcraft, giving weight and meaning to the word ‘witch’ whose definition is both complex and particular.

Bibliography:

Bever, E. W. (2008). The realities of witchcraft and popular magic in early modern Europe: Culture, cognition and everyday life. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Davis, H. J. (1975). The silver bullet, and other American witch stories. Middle Village, NY: Jonathan David.

Oberon, A. (2019). Southern cunning: Folkloric witchcraft in the American South. Winchester: Moon Books.

Ogden, D. (2009). Magic, witchcraft, and ghosts in the Greek and Roman worlds: A sourcebook. New York: Oxford University Press.

Schulke, D., & Fitzgerald, R. (2018). VIA TORTUOSA: An Exposition on Crooked Path Sorcery. Xoanon Publishing.

Tangherlini, T. (2000). "How Do You Know She's a Witch?": Witches, Cunning Folk, and Competition in Denmark. Western Folklore, 59(3/4), 279-303. doi:10.2307/1500237

#traditional witchcraft #greek magic #witchcraft #the devil #spirit flight

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cwilling9 · 3 years ago

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Songs Can Sound Like Eulogies, But Only if You Let Them

In the quiet of the night, as I make the long trek back to my apartment from work, my thoughts sometimes drift to her. I can go months or even years between sightings, but her ghost is surprisingly persistent.

The irony is that most of the time I’m not thinking of her. I’m thinking of you. Which is pretty tragic, since you are the one who took her from me.

Maybe she only can break into my thoughts during the darkest parts of the day, because that is the last time I can remember seeing her face. In a quiet field, in a quiet town, you walked up to her.

And then she violently faded away.

Should I really blame you though? You were so young at the time - could you have really known what you were doing? It's those questions that the more forgiving version of myself whispers into the cracks of my brain, before a boiling and billowing rage consumes the whole in screaming condemnation.

Because yes, you were young.

But she was young too.

And you had no right to take her from me.

She was the most vibrant girl I knew. She bounded from life to life, spreading her spark to all those she met. I know that she just wanted that spark to catch and be sent back in equal measure. I regret that I didn’t have the courage to be that for her.

She deserved the world.

And instead she met you.

At this moment I have to indulge my darker thoughts, or I fear they will eat me alive, consuming what I must protect that is growing inside me. Your ghosts do not get to take that from me too. Because, like her, you are only a ghost now. Adrift in my memory. But I do remember what you were like in life - brash, bold, and unflinchingly you. Or were you really? Years later I can barely tell if it was all a facade. You were so alike her in some ways, and so different in others. Maybe the two of you could have been friends in another life. But you had already caught the sickness. The one that only survived on the consumption of others.

Then she came to town. And you were hungry.

You know, for years I thought that you killed her. I thought that in that single moment in late October, you reached into her small and fluttering heart and wrung its neck.

For years, I lived in mourning. I lived in silence. It was a quiet life, it was a lonely life. How does one introspect without their soul. Without their mind. Without their heart? She was music to me.

It wasn’t till years later that I finally realized how sharp the quiet really was, and that she didn’t die on that dark field all alone. It was those daggers of silence that pierced her still softly beating heart the deepest.

You may have left her broken and bloodied on the ground, but I am the one who left her to die.

It wasn’t until I had this final realization that her ghost stopped haunting me at night. A spector merged into my soul, filling in the cracks that you had once occupied. I now know that by holding on to you, I had let go of her. So it is here that I will say goodbye.

That festering discontent that I will never be able to shake, the one that both destroys and creates in equal measure, has tried to whisper to me that I shouldn’t let you get away unscathed. You need to answer to the world for what you have done.

You need to answer to me.

But, without purging this feeling from my gut, she will never feel safe within me. And she deserves to finally return to rest in the place that once was her home.

I may never be able to be who I once was. After all, we can’t become our ghosts. But, we can live at peace with them. And if ghosts have ears and hearts that beat, I’d like to leave a message for mine.

You deserved the world. I envy your spark and your hunger and the way that you could hold a quiet thing in the palm of your hand. You were messy and tilting and sharp, but you were mine. Then the demons got to you, and I didn’t protect you, and I am sorry. I am so so sorry. I will love you till the end of my days, and I will die trying to love myself in equal measure. You, my little thunder girl, are now the thunder in me.

#short story #musings #just a random draft

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lokislytherin · 4 years ago

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euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 +

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

Over the next few weeks, Jeongguk's appearances in your apartment become increasingly frequent until it's a daily occurrence, regardless of whether Seokjin is there or not. Jin is like an older brother to you, and you know he would never allow you to bring home a boy he hasn't given his stamp of approval, let alone a vampire he's never even met.

But the thrill of breaking the rules has always excited you, hasn’t it?

Slowly but surely, you and Jeongguk grow steadily closer. You learn a lot about him: he likes photography, but a part of the curse of vampirism makes it impossible to appear when not seen by the naked eye; impossible to be caught on camera; or reflected in your bedroom mirror, for that matter. He's unintentionally scared you one too many times for you to be comfortable stepping out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around you anymore. He adopted a tiny white dog called Gureum, but he wasn't able to visit ever since he 'died' and was turned - Gureum barked every time Jeongguk even came close. Jeongguk had sniffed himself, wondering if he smelled any different. He couldn't tell.

He also learned a bit about you - like your opinion on pineapples on pizza, which had baffled him endlessly. He'd looked at you, distrustful, wondering how you could possibly not like pineapples on pizza. Equally horrified, you'd turned to him, asking how could a fruit like pineapple possibly belong on pizza? After a lengthy debate, both of you had reached a final decision to agree to disagree. You'd even told him you were saving up to get two tattoos - a fleur-de-lis with mismatched angel wings, a personal choice; and a dragon, a symbol of your family. He'd nodded in approval, lifting up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal an armful of tattoos. You'd asked about some of them - the tiger lily was his birth flower, and the 'please love me' inked behind it was "wishful thinking"; a skeletal hand making the rocker sign and a lyric by Nirvana was for how he'd wanted to be a singer. Ironically, the lyric said 'better be dead than cool', and Jeongguk had laughed at his own expense.

At one point, both of you had bonded over contact lenses - you had a pair of red ones you'd used the previous year for Halloween, and Jeongguk had screamed when he saw you with them on, thinking you'd been turned and he wasn't there to protect you. You thanked him for the sentiment, plucking the lenses off your eyes as he fell onto the bed in relief. He told you his eyes weren't naturally blue, but brown - he'd been wearing blue contacts when he was turned, and now the color had merged onto his eyes.

Soon, you find yourself anticipating Jeongguk's midnight meetings with you, excitement making you shiver when night falls. You're not surprised when you find yourself falling for Jeongguk, hard. He's basically perfect: he's cuddly (but lean and muscular underneath), just how you like him; always buying you little trinkets that reminded him of you; even going to far as to bring you flowers, sometimes braiding them into your hair. His good looks are just a bonus. His only flaw so far is his love of pineapples on pizza.

On nights like this, you find yourself thinking - what if he was a human? What if the two of you could be something more than just friends? What if he could be yours?

You're rudely interrupted from your blissful, wistful daydream by the sound of harsh knocking on your bedroom window. Your apartment isn't far from the ground - anybody with a good grip could probably make their way out without much sweating. It's probably a prank - one of your exes was petty enough to throw pebbles at your window until Seokjin opened the window and screamed until he fled.

More than a little cranky and annoyed, you barely think about the consequences before you throw the window open and yell out into the gloom: "Who the fück is knocking on my window at one a.m?"

A pair of familiar but haggard-looking blue eyes stare into yours. In the dark, his eyes look purple, until you realize that they're tinged with red. Even though you know full well that it's Jeongguk and he wouldn't hurt you, you can't help but fear for your life: it reminds you of the first time you 'met' him, the vampire starving and driven to kill by the blood-lust that controlled him.

"Permission to enter," he rasps. Normally, his voice is smooth enough to make you swoon, but not today. Today, it is husky and a near growl. "Wards increased power."

You blink. Ward? What ward? You have no clue what he meant, but you grant the young vampire permission anyway, urging him in. The pain and exhaustion is clear on his face, and it worries you, empathy completely overriding your innate 'prey' response of fear. “Thanks, Y/N,” Jeongguk mumbles as he staggers into your arms like a drunk man.

You clap a hand onto your mouth upon seeing the state that he's in. Oh, god. Blood. So much blood.

Oh god, he's covered in blood, dark red liquid painting his white shirt crimson. The metallic tang makes you want to puke your guts out the window, but you notice that there are traces of it on your windowsill, and Jeongguk is dripping the stuff all over the floor. “Jeongguk? Jeongguk, are you okay?” You can hear the desperation in your own voice.

"Hi, Y/N." He smiles at you, a little loopy, the twinkle in his eyes missing. He doesn't look like the Jeongguk you've gotten to know. "Good... to... see... you."

He bares his fangs in a weak grin. One is a little chipped (you've noticed that before), both are gleaming red with blood (that's new).

“Oh my God, Jeongguk,” you whisper, horrified, “what did you do?”

“Sorry… Y/N.” He looks mildly apologetic. "Didn't mean to."

A whimper of a scream escapes you as his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses on top of you, bringing you down to the floor.

You muffle your screech with your sleeve as you shove him off as gently as you can, praying that Seokjin can't hear you from the room across the corridor. Your hands are red with blood, all over your fingers and rolling onto your arms. You wipe it on your shirt in an attempt to get it off, but there's blood under your nails, too. That's not even the biggest problem - whose blood is it?

Thankfully, Jeongguk opens his eyes after a minute or two. It felt like ages to you. He's conscious now, but his irises are redder than when you saw them last. “What happened to you?” you ask him, confused, worried, scared.

He grunts, trying to push himself into a sitting position. There's a long gash on his arm, though it doesn't look very deep. "Got ambushed," he hisses, something feral in his voice. He doesn't quite sound human, but he seems to be holding back in front of you, trying to be human even though both of you know he's not. He carefully pokes and prods himself, trying to find out the sheer extent of his injuries. "Damn hunters again."

You remember what Jeongguk said about the hunters before - humans who knew about the secret nightlife, humans who were so thirsty for some sort of vengeance that they would hunt down vampires, werewolves, and witches alike, regardless of how said creature had treated them in the past. Jeongguk had sneered when he talked about his previous close scrapes with hunters, but this was the first time he'd been caught.

"I took a few down, but there were too many. I tried not to hurt them, I really did. But they didn't hold back, so neither did I." He grits his teeth at a particularly deep cut on his thigh, which sizzles and oozes blood. You stare at it in horror. Did he climb all the way to your apartment with all those injuries? He growls lowly. "Fückin' silver knife." It's the first time you've heard him swear. "Hurts like shït, but it's worse for werewolves." He laughs hollowly.

But why you? Why, of all people, would he come to you?

"You're the only one I'd trust with helping me," he grunts as he plucks a small shard of wood out of his thigh. He tosses it out the window. "Also, this is going to sound crazy, but I think your roommate is a witch. He knows I've been here, and he strengthened the wards around the apartment." He flinches when one of his wounds begins to steam. "That's why I had to ask for permission. He's trying to protect you, but I put both of you in danger by coming here. I think I lost the hunters, but they have a good tracker."

You frown. Seokjin, a witch?

You rewind back to all the times he's seemed particularly magical in any way. Perhaps it's his cooking, and how everything he makes seems to be better than yours even though you're not too shabby a cook yourself. Or maybe it's his looks - most times, he goes unnoticed, but once you make eye contact with him you seem to be unable to look away. It doesn't help that he looks the same as he did ten years ago, you've seen his pictures.

But now is not the time to question Seokjin's humanity. Jeongguk is badly injured, and by the steam rising out of the wounds and the fading light in his eyes, he looks like he may even be dying in your arms. "Let me help you, Jeongguk," you beg, "just tell me how."

Jeongguk shudders, squeezing his eyes shut as a silent scream rips out of his mouth. When he reopens them, the lovely blue of his irises is almost gone, covered by flecks of red. "Blood." Fangs slide out of his gums, and he eyes your neck. "I need fresh blood."

“Fresh… blood?”

"I mean, dead animal blood works too," he adds hastily, "just not as well. I'd heal faster with fresh blood." His voice is deeper and gruffer, and you like the sound of it a little more than you should. "But please, hurry. Make a decision. Once my eyes go completely red, I'll lose all control." His voice goes even lower. "I don't know how I'd live with myself if I hurt you somehow."

You can see his blood-red gaze on your throat, sharp fangs peeking out of his mouth. The look in his eyes is damn near predatory, and you shiver when his tongue darts out hungrily. If this feral side of Jeongguk isn't the hottest thing you've ever seen, you don't know what is.

Slowly, you brush your hair away from your neck, exposing your throat to the young vampire. His gaze pins you to the spot - no doubt he can hear every frantic beat of your heart.

Blue briefly flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He sounds scared for you. “'Cause once I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” “It’ll be okay, Guk. I’ll be fine.” Are you reassuring him, or yourself? “We’ll be fine.” “If you still say so.” He still sounds uncertain.

As soon as the red bleeds into his eyes, he becomes another person completely. Gone is the Jeon Jeongguk who would make you flower crowns and buy you pretty little trinkets - here is an apex predator (who totally does not get you all hot and bothered, by the way.)

Jeongguk licks his lips, a small smirk on his face. The tips of his fangs are stark white against the red of his lips, and you can feel your cheeks heat up. It’s too late to back out now.

He pounces, pushing you down against the covers, trapping you under him. You gasp as he clamps his teeth onto your neck, fangs piercing through the skin of your throat and sinking deep into your jugular vein. The feeling is foreign, as is the pain, and you struggle a little. Jeongguk lets out an animalistic growl, sucking hard as he pins your wrists above your head. Your eyes flutter shut after a few moments - after the initial sting of the bite fates, all you're left with is a growing sense of euphoria.

All is well until you start to feel woozy. Jeongguk is literally draining away your lifeblood, and if he keeps going you'll be dead in a few minutes. You nudge him gently, but there's no response. You nudge him a little harder, and you get a grunt this time. Not much better, but a little progress is better than none at all. "Jeongguk," you start gently, "that's enough." You hope the thirst has faded enough for him not to lose his temper and snap your neck.

He groans, mumbling something about your sweet blood. You call him again, a little more fear in your voice.

Footsteps sound from across the corridor, and you swear under your breath as your housemate kicks the door open, revealing Seokjin in all his alpaca-nightshirt wearing glory. He's wielding his phone like a weapon, the torch on as he squints. "Y/N, what the-"

He takes in the state of your room - bloodstains all over the floor, the vampire attached to your neck. You're less scared of Jeongguk now, more fearful of your roommate. The only thing worse than an angry and protective Seokjin is a tired, cranky and protective seokjin. “- hell?” Well, you’re screwed.

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taylorinthetardis · 4 years ago

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Only Human - Prologue and Chapter 1

Hey everyone! So this is the Pride and Prejudice AU I’ve been working on for a while now. It’s set in Modern Day London and told from Darcy’s POV. It is cross posted on AO3, the link to it will be below. I promise I will update it soon, I’ve just been a little bit blocked for a while. But I promise there will be more. So here we go, the prologue and first chapter are under the cut! Enjoy!! Feedback is much appreciated!! If you like it and want to be on a taglist, please feel free to say so!!

Thank you to @madbaddic7ed for all your encouraging words and for convincing me to cross post!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109365

Only Human

Summary: The events of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as seen through the eyes of Darcy. Story takes place in modern day London. Lizzy and Jane are American students studying abroad. Their sisters take turns visiting them throughout the story. Bingley and Darcy are recent business partners, but longtime friends. Caroline is as snake-ish as ever. George Wickham is an actual rapist - the rape will not be described in detail.

Pairing: William (Will) Darcy x Elizabeth (Lizzie) Bennet; Charles Bingley x Jane Bennet

Rating: Explicit due to eventual smut

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.8K

Prologue

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I, William Darcy, am an arsehole. The following tale, dear reader, will explain how that came to be and how, I hope, I have made the preceding statement a falsehood instead. The following tale does not often show me at my best. I hope, however, that you may look past my faults and forgive my disgraceful, ignorant, and often impure thoughts as I relay to you the circumstances by which I came to fall deeply in love with the most wonderful, challenging woman I’ve ever met, the method by which I nearly ruined an incredibly important friendship, and the events surrounding the creation of a familial fissure that will never heal. I hope you will not judge me too harshly.

Chapter 1: Hanover Terrace

I was sat in my office. My office. Still getting used to that. When I took over control from my Aunt Catherine in April, a lot of work was done to make this office mine. Catherine’s taste in furniture was, how should I phrase this, medieval. I was honestly surprised we didn’t have to remove any torture devices when her furniture was cleared out to make room for my more practical mahogany desk and overstuffed leather chairs. My degree from Cambridge’s Judge Business School was propped in my bookcase with photos of my parents and Georgiana on either side. The office is still rather spartan in comparison to Charles’ but I don’t mind it. Our companies had recently merged, an event that proved profitable for both parties and served to deepen our friendship. Our offices are across the hallway from each other now, as opposed to being across the Thames. The economic windfall had been excellent for Charles. He had decided to purchase a new home, one big enough for himself and his sister and closer to her university. Charles is an orphan, like myself, and the sole caretaker of his younger sister Caroline, who recently began her studies at the fashion and design school at Regent’s University. I feel for Charles sometimes. His younger sister is an absolute terror, but I guess we can’t all be blessed with saints for sisters. Caroline is an uncommonly cruel young woman. She delights in shit-talking friends and strangers alike. She also is labouring under the delusion that she will one day be my wife. Her older sister, Louisa, has enjoyed several years of trophy-wifery and it seems Caroline has decided that is the life she wants to live as well. Although she just recently came of age, she has flirted with me non-stop since the first day Charles invited me home with him. We’ve known each other since we were 18 years old. We are now 25. Damn near seven years. SEVEN YEARS. Seven fucking years dealing with Caroline’s shite. She just turned 18 earlier this year. What the hell did she think I was going to do with her when she was eleven goddamn years old? Go to prison? I sure as shit think not.

Charles entered my office at around 1. He was bouncier than usual. He had either had more than one of his normal sickly-sweet coffees or he was in love again. Turned out it was both.

“Oh, Will I’m so happy you convinced me to snatch up Hanover Terrace. I met the most beautiful woman in world yesterday. I never would have known her if I hadn’t decided to take your advice. I invited her and her sister out with us tonight. You don’t mind, do you? Even if you do, once you meet her, you’ll forget you were ever bothered.” He spoke at such a speed that I only caught about every third word. My ears perked, however, at the ‘out with us tonight’ part. Out with us? I don’t remember agreeing to go anywhere with Charles. He always wants to go to nightclubs. He knows I don’t dance. He always does this. Drags me to some poppy nightclub with strobe lights and terrible music.

“And how did you meet this one Charles? Spill your coffee on her? No, wait, you were walking Caroline’s stupid pug and she thought it was cute and wanted to pet it.”

“Christ, am I becoming that predictable?” Yes Charles. Every girl you’ve ever fancied has fallen into your life in a cliché.

I nodded. He sighed.

“Well, it’s different this time. She isn’t like any other girl I’ve been with. More beautiful than Sarah, kinder than Tilly, oh and her sister Will. Her sister has got to be one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever spoken to in my life. They’re both very beautiful Will. If I was a betting man, I’d wager that Lizzie might even be beautiful enough to tempt you out of your shell and entice you to have some goddamn fun for once. Maybe she’ll even get you to dance.” He nudged me with his elbow, winking. Yeah right Charles. Not even Charlize Theron could get me to dance at a nightclub.

“I seriously doubt that Charles. So, what’s this one called, hm?”

“Jane.” He said it with a sigh. Oh, he’s already long gone. “Her sister is called Elizabeth, but she prefers Lizzie. They’re American, Darce. From the Midwest. They’re both studying abroad at Regent’s for the year.”

“And to what godforsaken place will you be attempting to drag me to tonight?”

“I was thinking Drama? I wanna show off a little Will. I really like her; I want to impress her.”

“Drama might be a little much for a midwestern girl, don’t you think? What about that place we went in Camden a few months ago, by the lock?”

“Lock 17? Isn’t that a little down market for you Darce? There isn’t even a dress code!”

“Come off it, you know I couldn’t care less Charles. I don’t even like going out. I just think Lock 17 will be the better choice for her. You don’t want to scare her. Anyway, I think you’ll have a nice time. Without me.”

“Nuh uh, you aren’t getting out of this. You come or you’re dead to me.” I rolled my eyes. Jesus he’s such a goddamn drama queen.

“Ugh fine I’ll go. But I’m not dancing and you can’t make me. I’m a grown man Charles. So, meet at Hanover Terrace at, what, 8pm? Or should we meet earlier?”

“I was thinking 7:30, that way we’ll all have plenty of time to get ready and you can get to know them before we go. I’m going to order the cab for 8 so we’ll have plenty of time to get there if there’s any slow spots.”

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving Caroline at home.”

“Yeah, so she can kick my arse over it later? No chance. Besides, we’ll probably lose her to the dance floor as soon as we get in. She’ll find some nice dumb boy to buy her drinks and you won’t have to see her all night.” No Charles she’ll be on me like white on rice all damn night and you bloody well know it.

“Alright. But I’m not dancing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Hanover Terrace about 7:30. As soon as Charles opened the door, I immediately regretted my decision to come. I should have told him I got food poisoning from lunch or something. Caroline was stomping through the front room, going from box to box screaming that she couldn’t find her favourite clubbing heels. Who the fuck has a favourite pair of heels for clubbing? Heels seem so impractical for dancing. Charles’ new love and her sister had yet to arrive and Charles appeared to be in a slight panic.

“What if she doesn’t come Will?” He said shakily. Christ he’s in a full meltdown.

“I’m sure she’ll be here in a few minutes Charles. It’s not even close to 8 o’ clock yet. You’ve got plenty of time, just relax.” I took a minute to look around his new home. He had barely unpacked. I helped him get everything in order for the move about two weeks ago and he moved in a few days later. Everything was basically where it was when I visited three days ago. “Have you genuinely not unpacked anything Charles? How are you even living in here?”

“I’ve got enough clothes unpacked upstairs to last another week probably. Caroline’s rarely home in the evening anymore so I just keep getting take-away. There’s a Chipotle just around the corner on Baker Street. You know I love a burrito bowl. Something I have in common with the lovely Jane.” Gag. Well, at least the movers got his furniture set up, although most of the downstairs furnishings were unusable because they were covered with cardboard boxes and plastic totes and suitcases. The sofa in the main living area was clear enough that I took a seat. Caroline continued her tear through the front room until a triumphant screech echoed through the relatively empty house. The heels in question were easily six inches high, sparkly platformed monstrosities. They completed a look which can only be described as what a disco ball would look like if it was a contestant on Love Island. Hopefully Jane and her sister would be a bit more sensibly dressed, like Charles and myself. I decided on a plain black tee and black jeans with my black and white trainers. Charles had gone with a less monochromatic palette, wearing a bright blue button down that was almost the colour of his eyes and a pair of dark blue jeans. We’re wearing the same shoes. Us and every other man in London. Suddenly there was knock on the door. I checked my watch, 7:35. I told Charles he was worrying for nothing. He bounced towards the door like Caroline’s pug when he needed a shit. He opened the door to reveal a young blonde woman and a younger looking woman with auburn hair.

“Jane, Lizzie, I’m so pleased you’re here. Sorry about the mess, haven’t had much time to unpack yet, with work and all.” Charles led them through to the room I had posted up in. The dark-haired girl peered at me through purple framed glasses. Her sister gave her a little nudge. Well fuck, Charles wasn’t kidding. God they’re both gorgeous! They were dressed considerably more sensibly than Caroline. Jane wore a low pair of black heels that complemented her red cocktail dress. Her sister was even more comfortably dressed, in black leggings, Doc Martins, and a plain white t-shirt. She wore a black leather jacket over the tee. Neither girl appeared to be wearing much make-up. Both were possessed of the natural beauty that Caroline tried to fabricate in her hour-long make-up routine that left her looking like she had Photoshopped her own face, but in real life. I stuck my hand out. “Will Darcy. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Wow, sound more like you’re a hundred years old, why don’t you Will?

“Will, this is Lizzie,” he gestured to the brunette, “and this is Jane.” He put his hand on the small of the blonde’s back and she blushed redder than Charles’ hair.

“Lizzie Bennet. It’s so nice to meet you Will.” She took my hand with her considerably smaller one and shook it. It was a firmer handshake than I’d had from some of my business associates. She dropped my hand and her sister took up the vacancy. Her handshake was much softer, grip much lighter, much more feminine. Looking at the two women before me, I wouldn’t have known they were sisters if Charles hadn’t told me. They couldn’t have been more different. One blonde, one brunette. Jane had soft blue eyes, Lizzie’s were bright and hazel. Jane was tall and slender, her sister shorter and softer around the middle. Taking all of her in I came to a sudden realization: she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Okay Will be cool. For once in your bloody life be cool. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak Lizzie launched into an animated conversation with Charles about her day. It was all I could do not to stare at her mouth while it moved faster than Charles’ ever had, no matter how in love he was or how many Frappuccinos he had consumed. I sat back down on the sofa, while Lizzie sat on the carpet, Charles on the coffee table, and Jane remained standing. Lizzie told us about one of her professors, an archaeologist who taught university classes when he wasn’t on digs.

“He’s like a real-life Indiana Jones except without the bullwhip and the hat. And he’s not Harrison Ford. But still. Oh, and don’t even let me get started on my Shakespeare professor. George. He’s my most favourite.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your studies Lizzie. But don’t forget to explore the city while you’re here! London is full of endless things to see and do. I’ve lived here most of my life and I still haven’t seen everything!” Charles is so blessed. I wish I could just talk. Talking is better than staring. C’mon mouth, work! “Wouldn’t you agree Darce?”

Shit, I have to talk now? I nodded, again opening my mouth to speak, but no words came. Charles picked the conversation back up, turning to Jane to ask if she had a pleasant day as well.

“Yes. I took a lovely walk through Regent’s Park today. I only have the one class on Thursdays so I’ve been using the rest of the day to explore a bit. Lizzie’s schedule is so much fuller than mine so I’ve been finding places for us to go on the weekends. We’ve gone to Camden Market and Hyde Park. When you met us the other day, we were on our way back from the Tate Modern, I don’t remember if I said or not.”

“Yes, you said Lizzie was disappointed because she thought you were going to the Tate Britain.”

“Do you have something against modern art?” Oh, cool. Thanks, mouth. Why did that come out like I’m angry about that? Modern art is dumb. How is a pile of rubber or a cut-up McDonald’s bag art?

“I can appreciate that its art, like how I can appreciate that romance novels are literature or techno is music, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I prefer the old masters and classical art to a splash of paint on a canvas. My little cousin can do that too, does that mean her art belongs in a prestigious museum? Naw fam it sure don’t.” Yes. I wholly agree. Why does she have her eyebrow raised at me? Does she think I don’t agree? What is my face doing? Am I scowling? I don’t want to scowl. Did she say ‘fam’? That doesn’t matter. Why does it feel like it matters?

“You’ll have to excuse my sister. She’s never been shy about her opinions. And she has a lot of them.” Jane shot her sister a disapproving look. Lizzie just shrugged. Caroline chose that moment to come swanning into the room. Seeing there was a perfectly good space next to her brother on the coffee table, she chose to throw herself down into my lap. Oh, for fucks sake. She’s gonna get fake tanner on my trousers.

“Will, my love," I threw up in my mouth a little, "we’re going to have such a wonderful time at Drama tonight.” I can’t wait to burst her bubble.

“Caroline, did Charles not tell you? We aren’t going to Drama. We’re going to Lock 17, in Camden.” I tried to move her from my lap, but she dug her heels into the carpet for grounding. Fat Christ, Charles will you get your sister under control?

She sputtered, on the verge of a full tantrum directed at her brother when, blessedly, Charles’ phone vibrated. “That’ll be the cab. Caroline are you still coming?”

She jumped up off my lap and straightened the piece of sequined cloth trying to pass itself off as a dress. “Of course I’m going Charles. I put all this on, I can’t just not go out now!” She stomped off to the dining area to get her bag from the table. Charles led Jane towards the front door. I extended my hand down to Lizzie, who took it. I pulled her up from the floor. You should let go of her hand now Will. You’re being weird. I dropped her hand like it had burned me. Smooth. She looked at me, smirked and cocked that eyebrow again. Saying nothing, she followed her sister and Charles out the front door. Caroline took advantage of my initial inaction by slipping her arm into mine, leading me towards the cab. And my doom.

#Taylor writes #Pride and Prejudice #fanfiction #Modern AU #Darcy's POV #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth Bennet #Charles Bingley #Jane Bennet

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lorei-writes · 5 years ago

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Night Terrors

Masamune x MC Hurt/Comfort

Hello @hoxadrine-blog & annon! :D Thanks for your prompts, though it’s probably not what you’ve expected, haha. I hope you don’t mind the fact that I’ve merged those into a single (short) story, it just kinda felt right that way ^^”

Content Warnings: war (mentions), nightmares, anxiety

Sometimes at night, even if just sometimes, the terrors of war returned to haunt Masamune. Perhaps it was the price that came with his duty, perhaps it was the world's way of repaying him for all the fear the battles – his battles – had planted in the hearts of the populace. Whenever the nightmares came, he'd turn in his sleep, as if he was trying to protect himself, his muscles tensing up. One moment he'd be still, his fists clenched, his nails digging into the skin of his palms – and the very next one, he'd open his eye, his breathing uneven until he'd manage to calm himself down.

That, however, had changed slightly ever since she appeared in his life. Still half-asleep, Masamune searched for Mai, clinging to her mere second later, his head pressed against her chest.

“ I'm alive. I'm right here,” she whispered, stroking his hair gently. “ Hear that? My heart is beating. I'm alive.”

He nuzzled into her, tightening his embrace, still too confused to say anything.

“ Shh, it's all good. Cry if you want to. There's nobody around,” she spoke softly, hoping to comfort him – although he'd probably rather have her say 'shh, don't cry'. Her lover was the kind of person that would share the happiness, yet hide the sorrow, pretending it never bothered him in the first place. Outwardly, he was vibrant, always busy with something and seemingly inhumanly energetic. He hardly let himself be vulnerable, even when alone with her, the years of fulfilling his duty leaving him unable to validate that single ugly feeling. Fear. Could – no, should – he even be allowed to experience it? Wouldn't it render him unsuitable to be a leader? Wouldn't it make him weak? Those and alike questions troubled him sometimes. However, Mai knew the answers to them – and for that very reason, she wanted to envelop him in warmth, to spoil him with tender affection. She rubbed his back, placing soft kisses to his temples, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, until his muscles relaxed. She combed his hair with her fingers.

“ Kitten, I can't imagine my life without you in it anymore,” he murmured.

“ Then don't. I am and always will be here,” she replied. “ It's still dark. Rest.”

Masamune closed his eye, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. Soon, he fell asleep again, no nightmares troubling him this time.

P.S.: If you give me a prompt, I’ll publish it as a post and then tag you in it. Tumblr messed up formatting in one of the answer posts I’ve made and I don’t want to risk it again ^^” I hope that’s okay.

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #masamune x mc #my ff

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takemetolilly · 4 years ago

Text

For Kimberly — Where do words go once spoken?

We are alike in ways that we have not recognised yet. Sometimes, I utter words that seem more befitting on your tongue than mine, but I speak them anyway. Sometimes, I write in a fashion that is reminiscent of yours, so I look at the sentences and realise that it is so you—only you could place two unlikely words together and birth an emotion. Time is a strange concept right now but I have always been in awe of your ability to do so. To exist. To merge. To invoke.

This is no letter. These are just words hopelessly strung together in yet another sentimental attempt at gratitude. I would write you a letter, if I could. But I cannot so you will have to make do with this not-letter.

Where do words go once spoken?

I think of this a lot. This is, arguably, my second favourite question to ponder over. Some day I will tell you about the first, but not today. Today, I want these words to go straight to your heart. I am no anatomist but you have a beautiful heart. It is my favourite part of you. One does not need an exceptional capacity for deduction to notice that you have built walls around yourself. You have not lived a sheltered life; you live a guarded one. That makes a difference. The first would imply that you had no say in this matter, but you do — you made that choice, you paid heed to the primal instinct of self-preservation and kept one foot out of the door in every situation. So trust me when I say that it is a huge honour to be let in. (Un)knowingly, you allowed me to walk in through that door. You trust me and that is the only declaration of affection that I require.

I realised, barely a month into our friendship, that you were going to mean more to me than anyone I had met in my life. We might not be twin flames but we share a strong connection that I cannot quite put a finger on, and I do not want to, anymore. I am satisfied with the way we are. If I may be so forward, I would like to tell you that the night we spent in CCD, cradling what were to become our go-to orders, talking about our favourite songs, was the defining moment for me. You listed your favourite novels, leaned forward and told me your favourite literary tradition: you pair songs with books. It seemed like an obvious detail, one that every reader should indulge in, but you made it sound like you were a connoisseur of wine. I still reflect upon that night with a touch of reverence. We are alike and different, and the difference is fascinating. There have been countless intimate moments in our friendship, and in each one of those, we have shared previously unknown parts of each other. Perhaps, I miss that the most. I miss the knowledge of you living seven minutes apart from my room. The comfort of walking around the ring road at night, words flowing easily and ceaselessly. Sometimes, we revelled in the silence, no noise save for our footsteps and the chirping crickets. I miss our conversations. I miss sitting on the benches in the plaza, on the Chandragupta stairs, by the edge of the Kund, on the steps leading to the football field, on your bed, in the library, in the mess. Sitting next to each other became a ritual of sorts.

Some day soon, I will wake up in Pune. It will be a chilly morning and I will be inappropriately dressed for it. I will walk into a Ramanujan classroom, cradling my emotional support water bottle and two slices of toast with a generous filling of the sickly sweet jam you love. Many people will walk in through the doors, carelessly banging them on their way in and out. You will mutter a hello in the way that you do before 8am classes, and it sounds like you want to spend another hour in bed but you do not mind spending some time with your favourite people. And I will smile, in a way that only I do.

(01/10/2020)

#love notes #hug your friends bro #for kimberly

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homespork-review · 4 years ago

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HOMESPORK ACT 5 ACT 1: Mobius Double Plusungood, Part 2

BRIGHT: Nepeta wants to know what’s going on. Aradia finally stops dodging the question and tells Nepeta she’s dead, but doesn’t elaborate on how it happened. She asks Nepeta to keep it a secret, which Nepeta agrees to. Aradia’s also picked up some froglike traits from being merged with the sprite -- namely a tendency to ribbit.

In retrospect, it’s kind of funny that an active player can merge with a sprite. The role of a sprite seems to involve having detailed knowledge of how the Game works and what the player should do next, but only dispensing vague advice to the player. Prototyping a player would give them full access to that knowledge with no sprite vagueness to get in the way. The Game doesn’t seem too concerned about that, though.

CHEL: Now it’s time to get to know AG better. A doodle of her declaring her to be a HUGE BITCH fades into her standing in her room. Rather gothic, and also filthy-looking; it’s dark, with a red sky outside, and cobwebs and broken Magic 8 Balls lie around everywhere. There’s a FLARP poster and numerous pages of notes on the wall.

Your name is VRISKA SERKET.

You are a master of EXTREME ROLE PLAYING. You can't get enough of it, or really any game of high stakes and chance. You have persisted with the habit even in spite of your ACCIDENT. But then again, you don't have much choice.

Your lusus is VERY HUNGRY, ALL THE TIME. She can only be appeased by the FLESH OF YOUNG TROLLS. You cloud campaigns for teams of Flarpers, utilizing your abilities for ORCHESTRATING THE DEMISE OF THE IMPRESSSSSSSSIONA8LE. Your victories supply you with treasure, experience points, and SPIDER FOOD.

You are something of an APOCALYPSE BUFF, which is something you can be on Alternia. You are fascinated by end of the world scenarios, and enjoy constructing DOOMSDAY DEVICES for the hell of it. You are drawn to means of DARK PROGNOSTICATION and the advantages they offer, particularly in gaming scenarios. Your abilities in this department were hobbled with the loss of your VISION EIGHTFOLD, and you have since sought alternatives through various BLACK ORACLES. You consult with these ominous globes, but routinely destroy them in frustration over the PUZZLING GUARANTEED INACCURACY of their predictions. Breaking them has developed into a habit BORDERING ON FETISHISTIC, and with each you destroy, you add to an insurmountable stockpile of TERRIBLE LUCK. You have to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing.

FAILURE ARTIST: FINALLY we get a name for her and we don’t have to keep saying AG. I imagine the non-Homestucks are feeling like I did when I played Danganronpa 2 finally and saw the “fingers-in-his-ass” guy.

CHEL: She examines a drawing on the wall, of her FLARP character MARQUISE SPINNERET MINDFANG, who is just Vriska in a different coat and seaboots, with a hook instead of her robot hand. She is the scourge of land dwellers and sea dwellers alike, and worst nightmare to silly BOY-SKYLARKS everywhere. She has accumulated more treasure and gained more levels than any member of the PETTICOAT SEAGRIFT class ever. She gained all the levels. All of them.

En route to her computer, Vriska steps on a D4, and complains about how she’s had terrible luck since her mysterious accident. I’d just like it noted that this is a small but noticeable occurrence of Vriska’s tendency to blame others for her problems; if she cleaned her room some time, that wouldn’t happen. Still, she doesn’t worry about it too long, as she’s busy.

So many irons in the fire. Such a tangled web. It is a web full of flaming irons and mixed metaphors.

BRIGHT: Vriska equips her weapon of choice, a set of enchanted D8 dice called the FLUORITE OCTET.

...okay, I’m getting used to characters having semi-absurd weapons, but seriously, what? Let’s review everyone else’s chosen weapons: Hammer, knitting needles, sword, gun, sickles, lance, clawed gloves, walking cane. Sollux had some throwing stars but didn’t assign them to his specibus owing to his telekinesis being enough; we haven’t seen Aradia’s strifekind yet, but she also has telekinetic abilities, and hers are apparently enhanced by her being dead. So that’s a lot of genuine weapons, and some things which aren’t weapons but can readily be used that way in a pinch...and then Vriska has a set of enchanted dice.

It’s a good fit both for Homestuck’s absurdity and for Vriska’s obsession with luck. But it does stand out rather.

Anyway, rolling the dice will execute a wide range of highly unpredictable attacks. Very high rolls can be devastating to even the most powerful opponents. Apparently these work everywhere, not just in FLARP games. Also, while we see ghosts, psychic powers, and superpowered coding, I think this is the only reference to plain magic we have on Alternia.

Vriska steps away from the computer to avoid talking to GA, who she refers to as an unwelcome solicitor, but returns to it when someone else starts messaging her. Vriska calls him this guy; he has no icon -- and, oddly, no username -- and types in white, which means the reader (and Vriska) ends up highlighting the conversation a lot.

Hello.

AG: Oh my god, why are you talking to me????????

This is the last time we'll ever talk.

AG: Still sticking with the white text I see. So smooth and stylish!

AG: I forgot how much I loved highlighting it to read all the 8oring things you have to say.

AG: It's like a fun game for super extra handicapped retarded people. Like opening a present! Find out what o8noxious thing the mystery tool typed.

AG: What is it!

A parting courtesy, I suppose.

All the ways I've exploited you were meant to bring about the events that will take place this evening.

Knowing this will provide context for the events in your near future, and will affect how you behave in response.

These events will be just as important as those preceding it.

I've gone to great lengths, you see.

Well, this guy sounds ominous.

Also, using ‘handicapped’ and ‘retarded’ as insults is entirely in character for Vriska, who has no time for people who can’t operate on her level. Currently Vriska’s also being shown as an unlikeable character. We’ll see how that develops.

CHEL: Still, a lot of people really don’t like those words being used casually, and the fact that we need to show you how things develop should imply that they won’t develop in a way you’ll like. So…

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 39

White Text Guy, as the characters refer to him for a while to come yet, continues gloating about how successfully he’s exploited Vriska, who tells him she’ll log off and orders him not to use that nasty trick where you log me 8ack on out of petty douchey spite! WTG says he’ll be brief, though he’s not particularly brief in fact, tells her he no longer hold[s] her accountable for any wrongdoing, and says that if she accepts this, she may get her luck back. Vriska doesn’t believe him and continues to rant, and he points out that her unpleasant, simplistic temperament is what made her so easy to mess with.

If you turn a swarm of wasps on a crowd, the outcome is certain.

He leaves with these even more ominous words:

Though the magnitude of the ensuing destruction resulting directly from your actions will be neither possible or necessary for you to fathom, there nevertheless ought to be a silver lining.

The only question is whether you will live long enough to see it.

Vriska, enraged, lifts a Magic 8 Ball with the intention to smash it, but decides she can’t be bothered, and answers GA, hoping some camaraderie will cheer her up, even if it’s from a meddler. However, GA’s first question is “Is Your Lusus Dead Yet”. Not particularly cheering, is it?

Vriska, for the first time, expresses concern and sympathy for another person when GA says her own lusus is dead, though it may be undermined slightly by her own personal disappointment in never having got to meet said lusus. GA doesn’t seem very concerned, and says “Maybe You Still Can”. According to her, though, all their lusii are dying, as a “Preemptive Consequence” (if that’s a meaningful concept) of the upcoming Game. Karkat blames himself for activating the cursed code, but GA thinks it was inevitable. However, Karkat’s idea of a curse Is Inseparable From His Perception Of Events As Intrinsically Negative And As Tailored To His Personal Dissatisfaction, and so is Vriska’s poor luck. GA points out that if Vriska cleaned her floor she wouldn’t step on so many things. THANK YOU, GA, you made my point for me! Vriska is angry at GA “meddling” so, and demands to know why she does.

GA: Because Youre Dangerous

[...]

GA: Its Ok To Be Dangerous

GA: Lots Of People Are

GA: And Dangerous People Can Be Really Important

GA: Maybe Even The Most Important Sometimes

GA: But It Just Means Theres Got To Be Someone Around To Keep An Eye On Them

As Vriska gets angrier, it’s noted that she puts 8s in her typing in places where they don’t work as Bs or as “eight” sounds, and they become more numerous.

AG: Or you know, if you're so h8gh 8nd might8 an8 th8nk you're so gr8at, m8y88 you c8uld oh I d8n't kn8w........

AG: TRY AND ST8P ME FROM DO8NG B8D THINGS????????

GA: That Wouldnt Work

GA: If I Tried To Stop You You Would Regard Me As An Enemy

GA: Instead Of Merely As A Nuisance

BRIGHT: GA’s strategy appears to be trying to talk Vriska into being a better person, either by persuading her that it’s the right thing to do or by being so annoying that Vriska does the right thing to avoid being meddled with. She’s making an effort, I’ll give her that. And given that she doesn’t live anywhere near Vriska, there isn’t all that much she can do to rein her in.

CHEL: Vriska signs off, ranting about her “Lousy st8pid godd8mn supportive friend!” and heads down the enormous staircase to check on her lusus.

You wonder if any other kid on the planet has such a high maintenance lusus? You DOUBT it.

As a matter of fact, one does and Vriska knows that, but we’ll see them later. Not a continuity error, it’s just Vriska self-pitying.

From a window, we see a doomsday device hanging over a chasm by chains attached to the surrounding cliffs. Vriska built it for an especially powerful and influential member of the nautical aristocracy, with help from an as-yet-unnamed nearby friend. Vriska reaches the bottom of the stairwell, and we meet her lusus, which is…

… a spider about the size of a cathedral. For the sake of our arachnophobic readers, we’ll refrain from posting a picture. Suffice it to say she’s as terrifying as she sounds. Pan out to show the entire valley is filled with cobwebs, and Vriska’s hive is matched by a similar one on the other side of the valley.

Before we move on, I’d just like to chat a little about the astrological symbolisms used here. Vriska’s the Scorpio troll, and it puzzles a lot of people that she’s spider-themed instead of scorpion-themed. Both arachnids, but not the same thing. However, Scorpio does have multiple symbols, depending on the source of the interpretation of the constellation, including the spider and the phoenix. Observe! (I enjoy astrology. Sue me.) Also, a scorpion would be a lot harder to get the story symbolism out of; Vriska is at least attempting to be a master manipulator pulling on strings, i.e. webs. The astrological symbolism and alleged personality traits aren’t used for all of the trolls in general, either. The troll with the sign of Aquarius the Water-Bearer is seadwelling nobility and probably wouldn’t be happy to be represented astrologically by a servant, and Gamzee is basically the opposite of the ambitious and hardworking traits of the allegedly typical Capricorn. Basically the signs are mostly aesthetic and if Huss can work in some connected symbolism that’s a bonus. I don’t consider this a negative thing in particular, though it might annoy some astrology buffs.

Actually, I don’t know how intentional this was, but one fan actually analysed how the social expectations on Alternia are in fact the exact opposite of what would actually suit their astrological sign. It didn’t get finished but there’s some interesting information - read the posts in question here, beware spoilers!

BRIGHT: One amusing consequence of this can be turned into a game: Go to Tumblr, find an astrology post, and see how long it takes to figure out if it’s a Homestuck riff. Some of them even just say ‘Vriska’ for Scorpio.

It’s probably just because I mostly follow fandom-related blogs, but I’ve yet to see a Tumblr astrology post that wasn’t a more-or-less-subtle Homestuck joke.

CHEL: And the ones which aren’t make for great fanfic prompts!

BRIGHT: Vriska’s lusus is fine, as it happens. Vriska pretends to be happy about this, but she’s rather less convincing than Dave is about his own guardianship issues.

FAILURE ARTIST: And we turn from Vriska to look in her neighbor and it’s….that creepy guy! Hurray!

Your name is EQUIUS ZAHHAK.

You love being STRONG.

You are so strong, you would surely be the class of the elite legion of RUFFIANNIHILATORS. And while such a calling would be quite honorable, you would prefer to join the ranks of the ARCHERADICATORS, perhaps the most noble echelon the imperial forces have to offer. Unfortunately, you SUCK AT ARCHERY. You have not successfully fired a SINGLE ARROW. Every time you try, you BREAK THE BOW. You are simply too strong. You have broken so many bows, it has developed into a habit BORDERING ON FETISHISTIC. You have to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing.

You have a great appreciation for THE FINE ARTS. You use your aristocratic connections to acquire PRICELESS MASTERPIECES, painted in the oldest and most respected Alternian tradition of NUDE MUSCLEBEAST PORTRAITS. These striking depictions of the EXQUISITE FAUNA native to Alternia remind you of the PUREST PHYSICAL IDEAL that must be sought by anyone who professes a LOVE OF STRENGTH. When those of lesser bloodlines turn up their uncultured noses at such stunning material, it MAKES YOU FURIOUS.

Practically everything MAKES YOU FURIOUS. You have so much rage, it can only be expressed through STAGGERING QUANTITIES OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE. You build strong and sturdy robots, set them to kill mode, and BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THEM in caged brawls. Sometimes you LOSE TEETH. But they usually grow back.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius Zahhak’s first name is obviously a take on the Latin word for horses, but his last name is from a Persian demon who is also known as “he who has 10,000 horses”.

So yes, that furry porn on his walls is high art to trolls. Though the prequel Hiveswap Friendsim, which has artist characters, doesn’t have MUSCLEBEAST PORTRAITS. Maybe Equius is actually weird.

CHEL: Actually, the Friendsim does have musclebeast art; if you squint at the beginning of Nikhee’s route, you can see depictions of white muscular chests flanking the arena, which don’t look like troll chests. Hiveswap proper is rated PG, so we’ll be spared it there, too.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius is more even-tempered than his introduction suggests. He’s not completely violence-free (as we will see) but he’s not in a constant ‘roid-rage. Heck, from what we’ve seen before of him he just gets peeved and snotty.

Equius calls for his lusus Aurthour, who I guess could be called another self-insert. Aurthour is a centaur-type creature with cow udders and a mustache and looks like something out of Hussie’s early comics. Aurthour carries a glass of lusus milk on a platter, presumably from its own udders. Ummm.

You cannot hope to beat Aurthour in a butler-off. He is simply the best there is.

Sweet, I guess.

CHEL: I wonder how Aurthour contorts around to reach his udder. Centaurs aren’t really known for flexibility.

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out why Aurthour has a shiner. It’s not because of domestic abuse but because when Equius “gently” pats Aurthour, Aurthour bruises. Yet this creature is the only lusus STRONG enough to raise Equius.

Equius tries to drink the glass, but it shatters in his hand. Which begs the question of why Aurthour doesn’t use an alternative to glass. Well, I guess Equius going straight to the source would be too disturbing even for Hussie. A bigger problem is how Equius can do the fine detail work of building robots when he can’t hold a glass.

Equius goes into a rage, which just means he stands around in Hero Mode while the lusus milk quickly evaporates. Wait, quickly evaporates? What is it made of?

CHEL: I assumed the heat of his rage boiled it.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius tries to equiup equip a bow but fails due to his strength. Like the glass smashing, this is a normal occurrence. You’d think he’d give up but apparently breaking bows is like popping bubble wrap to him. Expensive bubble wrap. So he has the useless 1/2bowkind, a bowkind for when he’s ever that lucky, and the fistkind which he actually utilizes. Yes, in Homestuck, you can register your fists as lethal weapons.

Equius talks with Nepeta and the narration summarizes like thus:

CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no

Equius is still worried about his good friend Nepeta, so he decides to relieve his stress by talking with another friend. And here comes a line fans take as meaning trolls don’t have friendship.

It should be noted that in troll language, the word for friend is exactly the same as the word for enemy.

Though that line contradicts Equius considering Nepeta his friend only a few lines back. This worldbuilding sucks.

CHEL: Well, he doesn’t treat her the way a human should treat a friend at this point.

FAILURE ARTIST: So Equius trolls this frienemy who turns out to be Gamzee.

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CT: D --> Have I ever told you what a reprehensible disgrace you are

TC: hAhA, fUcK yEaH, oNlY eVeRy MoThErFuCkIn DaY bRo!

Yeah, Equius, pretty much everyone tells Gamzee that every day.

Equius says he wants get some things off his chest, which giving what we later learn about troll relationships might be adulterous. Gamzee tells him not to let his feelings be bottled up lIkE a FuCkIn AlL sHaKeD uP bOtTlE oF fAyGo and this metaphor makes Gamzee thristy. Equius berates Gamzee for drinking soda, which seems harsh but we later find out soda is booze for trolls. He’s also angry at Gamzee for doing sopor slime. Now, fans think Karkat didn’t like Gamzee doing sopor slime but we never actually see it. It’s just Equius who cares. This leads to an exchange I find interesting.

CT: D --> You will stop

TC: WhOaAaA, i WiLl?

TC: hOw Do YoU kNoW tHaT?

CT: D --> No, you don't understand

CT: D --> It's not a predi%ion, it's an order

CT: D --> I command you to stop

Gamzee is so passive he finds it hard to imagine making decisions that will change his future. Sad. And when Gamzee does get what Equius means:

TC: Oh, AlRiGhT bRoThEr.

TC: yOu MoThErFuCkIn GoT iT.

CT: D --> What

CT: D --> Are you serious

TC: yEaH.

TC: I mEaN, yOu GoT tO sHoW sOmE fAiTh In YoUr FrIeNdS, cAuSe ThEy'Re AlL tHe OnEs WhO'rE bEiNg To LoOk OuT fOr YoU.

TC: sO fUcK iF yOu SaY i'M nOt DoInG tHe ShIt RiGhT, tHeN wHaT tHe MoThErFuCk Do I kNoW!

CT: D --> No

CT: D --> This is una%eptable

CT: D --> Ok, let's start over

CT: D --> I apologize

CT: D --> I was completely out of of line, and I'm sorry

CT: D --> I have no right to talk to you like that, or tell you what you can't do

TC: aWw, No WoRrIeS!

Gamzee was ready to kick sopor slime except Equius backed down. Wondering about the timeline where Equius didn’t back down.

Still, Equius begs Gamzee to behave like a superior. Gamzee asks what that means and Equius gives a very creepy answer.

CT: D --> 100k, it isn't that difficult

CT: D --> Try to be cognizant of your desires and needs

CT: D --> And attempt to regard those around you as simple vehicles meant to bring about your gratification

At least Equius is a hypocrite...most of the time.

Equius asks what Gamzee is doing and Gamzee relates his adventures in Sgrub. He bonked an imp on the head and scared another with a horn and eventually ended up sharing pie with them. Equius likes the tales of valor but is disappointed with the peaceful end.

Equius asks Gamzee to roleplay and Gamzee says yes; there’s an uncomfortable sequence where Equius tries to get Gamzee to virtually dom him. Gamzee is terrible at being assertive, but Equius is still whipped into a state of contrition. Basically, Equius is getting off on this.

CHEL: It should be noted that tricking a child into sexual behaviour is a form of abuse even when it’s done by a child of the same age. Not cool, Eq, and not funny, Hussie.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 11

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 40

SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 4

Though, while that is clearly the reading we’re meant to get from that, I have to say Equius never reads to me like he’s actually enjoying being ordered around. With Gamzee he’s just frustrated that he’s not behaving in a correct manner, and in later exchanges he seems knocked off-balance by the normal social order being upended. I know I’m just projecting, but it reads more like he has some issues with anxiety or OCD and is desperate for someone else to take control and tell him what they want him to do so he doesn’t have to worry. He sweats constantly during these exchanges, which is supposed to imply he’s aroused, but people sweat when they’re worried or afraid too.

FAILURE ARTIST: On a lighter front, Equius says he doesn’t live near the ocean, which considering his neighbor regularly goes on a pirate ship is an odd thing to say.

CHEL: How near is “near”? He might just mean not within walking distance so he can’t casually wander out to the sea like Gamzee does.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius ends by wondering about the social order that puts someone like Gamzee above him but someone as graceful and poised as a certain mysterious she is of the lowest caste. Gamzee (and the readers) ask who she is and Equius brusquely says D -->I shouldn’t be talking about this D → You’re the enemy before signing off.

CHEL: If one’s been paying attention, one can guess.

Next, Equius and Vriska are in cahoots. Cahoooooooots. Vriska declares her intention to meddle, and they have a brief exchange about sarcasm. It’s horribly inconsistent whether trolls have sarcasm or not, as I’ve pointed out before. Already gave a point for it, though.

Anyway, Vriska asks if Aradia’s present is finished. It is.

CT: D --> But I don't understand why you're intent on gratifying that worthless peasant

AG: 8ecause I promised I would and it's none of your damn 8usiness! Man.

Their plan is to let Aradia usurp Sollux as leader with her cute little ploy (recall her sending him to sleep and letting him swallow mind honey earlier), then both snatch power from her and become joint leaders. Each asks the other if they’re planning something sneaky and each insists they’re not. Equius can sense that Vriska is trying to read his mind, and when she won’t stop, he takes control of her cybernetic arm, which he built, and makes her slap herself in the face.

FAILURE ARTIST: So given that Vriska tried to read Equius’ mind, despite the dangers (both physically and mentally), it is unbelievable she refrained from reading Karkat’s due to delicacy.

I think Hussie has said in his commentary that Vriska had a crush on Equius. The fandom prefers lesbian Vriska at this point and so has ignored that. YMMV on if there is evidence of a crush in the text but I find the idea amusing.

CHEL: Equius goes to fetch the present for Aradia which he was supposed to give to Vriska.

You naturally will doublecross your accomplice, just as you assume she has plans to doublecross you. You assume she is assuming the same of you. Business as usual for blue bloods.

How the hell does this society get anything done?

You will deliver it to Aradia yourself to gain her favor, and then doublecross her and take your rightful position as team leader. How ironic that someone of your blood purity must work to win the favor of the lowest sort of peasant. Humiliating. Strangely titillating, even. But in the end, class order will be restored.

He takes the tarp off the present, and it is…

Why, Aradia. It appears the red glass of your eye has caught the pink and green glint of the moons in their perigees. The sweet poetry almost makes a man forget how the grime that once filled your veins made his stomach turn. It is a good omen for illicit lovers. Could you imagine the scandal if anyone found out?? No one must ever know.

But worry not. Your heart will pump no more of that despicable red sludge. You have been given a new heart. You can be taught the ways of the class you were always meant for. No one is beyond redemption.

Be grateful, dear Aradia. For the first time in your meaningless life you have met a man with true compassion.

Jesus fucking Christ. See what I meant when I said his interactions with girls were worse than his posters? No points because it’s supposed to be creepy, and with the teachings of his society it’s not entirely his fault, but wow.

FAILURE ARTIST: Well, his interaction with a girl is creepy. His relationship with Nepeta is more problematic than fans remember but that’s two-sided and not infatuation. As for Vriska, he’s cold and business-like with her. He collaborates with GA but that’s off-screen and was probably also business-like. Meanwhile, he has lustful interactions with most every male character. We’ve seen how he acts with Gamzee and we’ll see more later. Equius’ interactions with guys are another example of Hussie using male attraction to other males as a punchline.

CHEL: But yes, he’s built her a robot body. Unfortunately for everyone involved, while making out with it, he feels judged by one of his battlebots, gets angry, and punches it. It goes flying out the window and robosplodes above the valley, and its remains hit Vriska’s doomsday device, setting it off. It breaks before it can actually destroy the planet, but the chains holding it up snap, sending it swinging into the cliffside, causing another explosion. The cliff collapses, taking part of Equius’ hive with it, sending Aurthour plummeting into the chasm and crushing Vriska’s spider lusus under tons of rubble.

Cutting back to before that, we see Terezi battling imps on her treehouse’s rooftop, when Vriska messages her, declaring that playing the game together means breaking their truce. Terezi says that’s not what the truce was about; it was about STOPP1NG TH3 3NDL3SS CYCL3 OF R3V3NG3 and Vriska not using her powers maliciously anymore. Terezi’s next couple of comments are just calling Vriska a liar so I’ll just take Vriska’s, to further illustrate her behaviour.

AG: Man, you like to give me such a hard time a8out all that. I can't catch a 8reak! AG: Can't you see I'm trying to put all that 8ehind me and make amends with every8ody? AG: No, of course you can't see that. What am I saying! [...] AG: I'll prove it to you. I'm giving Aradia a present that will make her feel all 8etter finally. AG: Then I'll 8e in the clear. Phew! Totally redeemed. You'll see. I mean smell.

Vriska appears under the impression that large flashy gestures are the important part of an apology, not actual sincerity. Terezi points out Aradia doesn’t care about anything anymore and probably won’t care about this.

AG: Man, why can't you cut me some slack for once???????? AG: It's not like I even did anything that 8ad to you. AG: I lost seven eyes 8ut you only lost two! I would say you came out ahead in the 8argain. GC: 1 KNOW GC: 4ND 4CTU4LLY GC: 1 N3V3R R34LLY GOT TH3 CH4NC3 TO TH4NK YOU >:D

Vriska’s disbelief aside, Terezi really is serious here. Not surprising to the reader, her blindness is basically a superpower.

AG: Remem8er Team Scourge? How convenient all that must 8e to have forgotten! You were so nasty. AG: Oh man, if you crossed Terezi Pyrope you were fucked!!!!!!!! GC: Y34H 1F YOU W3R3 4 B4D GUY GC: W3 W3R3 SUPPOS3D TO B3 L1K3 4 V1G1L4NT3 DUO D1SP3NS1NG JUST1C3 GC: 4ND YOU COULD T4K3 TH3 B4D GUYS HOM3 4ND F33D TH3M TO YOUR STUP1D SP1D3R GC: BUT 1NST34D YOU JUST F3D H3R 3V3RYBODY! GC: 4ND L13D 4ND L13D 4ND L13D

Okay, this little exchange needs some more dissection. Terezi is supposed to be the “good cop” of Team Scourge, the by-the-book one on the side of the law. But we saw what Alternian law is like, and later on we’ll see demonstrations that things such as having a birth defect or, according to Hiveswap, owning fiction which so much as mentions the possibility of rebellion, are punishable by death. Not only is this not making Terezi look any better, if she’s as obsessed with the law as we saw, who would she deem not a “bad guy”, and why would Vriska have such a shortage of “bad guys” that she’d need to take anyone else? Hussie appears to have forgotten that the Alternian concept of justice is different from the Earth one.

FAILURE ARTIST: And what we would consider a “bad guy” wouldn’t be the same on Alternia. There’s tons of trolls murdering other trolls on Hiveswap Friendsim without any hint that’s illegal. It’s probably completely lawful for a highblood to kill a lowblood just because the lowblood annoyed them.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 29

BRIGHT: Maybe. I’d say what this shows us, and is intended to show us, is that Terezi’s sense of justice isn’t just based on Alternian law, but on her own moral code. The law made it perfectly acceptable for Vriska to feed lowbloods to her lusus regardless of whether they’d done anything, but Terezi didn’t think it was right, and for her that superseded the law. She’s the ‘good cop’ not because she always follows the book, but because she’s willing to ignore it.

We also know she thought Vriska was on the same page as her. Note that Terezi makes two accusations here — the first is that Vriska killed people who don’t deserve it, and the second is that Vriska lied to Terezi about doing so.

CHEL: That may be what it’s intended to show us, but what we’ve already seen is that she worships the law; she draws and gleefully licks pictures of the head of the troll court, His Honorable Tyranny, and she shows no concern in her roleplay with hypothetically executing people for relatively trivial crimes. That makes this a bit… shaky, IMO.

BRIGHT: True. Terezi may have stopped killing since her FLARP days (or, at least, we get no indication that she’s still doing so), but it doesn’t seem to have shaken her belief in the Alternian legal system. Just her belief in Vriska, who even brings up a similar point.

AG: Well if you want to know what I think, you should start changing your tune. AG: Cause even though you got all these highfalutin morals and fancy reserv8tions, you know as well as me that a killer is a killer is a killer! AG: There 8n't no ch8nging your ways for good, and one d8y you're going to flail that silly l8ttle cane of yours and not find n8thin to 8ump into, and fall f8ce first into the shit ag8in. AG: And you're going to do something t8rri8le to some8ody and wish you could t8ke it 8ack 8ut you c8n't!!!!!!!! AG: And then you'll work hard to win 8ack their trust, and you'll try and try and tr8, and you'll see how hard it is! AG: You'll seeeeeeee!

Vriska’s making this all about her own feelings about Terezi abandoning her, but she’s not wrong.

Vriska hears the doomsday device exploding and the subsequent rockslide, and goes to find out what it is. Terezi tells her not to get crushed.

The next page jumps back in time again -- this time, quite far back. Terezi’s eyes are normal, and she’s talking to Aradia about Tavros’s recovery. Aradia says he’s probably paralysed for life. Terezi brings up the possibility of getting him robo-prosthetics, but after the Vriska debacle Aradia is firmly against having anything to do with bluebloods.

CHEL: Terezi warns Aradia that revenge attempts will end badly and she wants to handle it. Aradia says Vriska isn’t able to control her, but Terezi says Vriska will find a way to harm her anyway. They lament how they were both distracted by the same person.

AA: wh0 was he anyway GC: PR3TTY SUR3 1T WAS VR1SKAS FR13ND AA: what was he d0ing there AA: watching us GC: WHO KNOWS GC: H3S NOT R34LLY H3R FR13ND THOUGH GC: YOU SHOULD S33 HOW H3 T4LKS 4BOUT H3R B3H1ND H3R B4CK GC: SH3 H4S NO 1D34 HOW B4D H3S PL4Y1NG H3R GC: BUT TH3N 1 DONT TH1NK H3 KNOWS HOW B4D SH3S PL4Y1NG H1M 31TH3R

This sounds like they mean Equius, but we’ll see. Aradia feels she’s letting Vriska win by doing nothing, but Terezi has a plan. She confirms that her friendship with Vriska is over.

Cut to Aradia’s house, and here I need to go into a bit more detail. This is her house:

Aradia’s a maroonblood, the lowest of the low on the hemospectrum, peasantry and cannon fodder and supposedly extremely numerous. Yet her house looks to be about the size of the entire block of flats I live in, and she lives in it alone, with no other buildings at all in sight. In the next page, we see inside her house, which looks exactly the same as all the others; she has piles of roleplaying books and posters and a computer, and nothing looks to be in disrepair.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 30

BRIGHT: Her house also looks a lot like Tavros’s, what with the windmill feature on top and the brown hangings rather than maroon, which threw me off at first.

CHEL: We’ll talk about this more later. For now, let’s stick with the most noticeable thing; Aradia is alive! Her skirt is untattered and her eyes have colour and pupils. Her lusus is alive too, napping beside her. It’s not quite clear what it is exactly; it has a sheep-like head, but its body is long and slim with much bigger hind legs than forelegs. Could be supposed to be dragon-like? I’ve also seen it interpreted as kangaroo-like. I don’t think we ever get a better view of it.

Anyway, Aradia knows Terezi’s advice is sound, but she can’t bear not to do something to Make her pay. She puts her hands up to her temples, and the image fades back and forth with one of wrapped troll corpses in Spidermom’s web…

It's a shame it had to come to this. You don't like summoning the spirits of the dead to settle scores.

But if she had to face her victims again, maybe she'd finally learn to feel remorse.

OOOOOOOOOO

This begs the question, how the fuck can the highbloods oppress people who not only hugely outnumber them but can shoot lasers from their eyes, control animals, and summon the dead at will? Well, there’s actually some explanation for that. The player trolls all appear to have unusual levels of power, for whatever their given powers are; most maroonbloods can’t do this. In Hiveswap a main character is a more typical maroonblood, who can just about bend spoons with his telekinesis and not much else (though we haven’t seen him speak with dead yet, and it’s possible he’s better at that). Not all trolls even have their caste’s powers, as far as I can tell, as we do see a yellow in Hiveswap Friendsim who’s not a psionic and some ceruleans who don’t seem to have mind-control powers as well. Head or eye injuries, which aren’t exactly rare in Alternia, can cause the loss of said powers. Also, the highest blood castes have powers of their own and other things to hold over the lowbloods’ heads. It’ll be a while till we get to that, but I’ll say now it is convincing, we do not have an Oppressed Mages scenario.

Anyway, Aradia does her thing…

As Vriska cowers on her floor, White Text Guy messages her again. Vriska replies angrily, ghosts looming over her shoulders.

Aren't you going to kill her?

AG: Who????????

Your friend.

The one who summoned the spirits.

AG: Will that make them go away?

Does it matter?

She brought them here to torment you. This obviously warrants revenge.

Vriska asks why WTG doesn’t kill Aradia instead, since he helped kill Tavros; he replies “All I did was stand somewhere for a few minutes. I just gave you an opportunity to do something you wanted to do anyway.” So, seems it wasn’t Equius they meant earlier. Vriska protests she never intended to kill her gaming companions, and blames him.

Again, I didn't talk you into anything, nor am I doing so now.

You were, and are, going to do this regardless.

I only ever place myself into positions of tangential involvement with events that will bring about my employer's entry into this universe.

I oversee the events as they take place, and ever so slightly nudge them into motion when necessary.

BRIGHT: Looks like Aradia and Terezi haven’t told her Tavros survived, which is eminently sensible. This conversation also highlights another Vriska trait: That she’s a very active person, but will try to shift responsibility as soon as she doesn’t like the consequences. That could be a result of her upbringing -- Vriska had to actively go and kill people for Spidermom, but she wasn’t responsible for the overall situation. (Although -- how much did she do to ameliorate it? By the time SGRUB starts, Spidermom’s far too big to fit into Vriska’s home. Vriska might have been able to get away with not feeding her at that point; there’s not much Spidermom can do if she can’t get to her.)

CHEL: The later addition to the canon, Pesterquest, claims that the lusii can psychically nag their charges and she could bother Vriska that way, but that directly contradicts Act 5, in which the trolls want to prototype their lusii so that they’ll be able to communicate properly with them for the first time, and also couldn’t Vriska just move further away?

BRIGHT: Inertia is very much a thing, and people do often just settle into a rut of ‘this is the way things are’ even when something could be changed, so it’s not improbable that it wouldn’t occur to Vriska to move — come to that, I don’t believe it occurs to anyone else either — but the fact that it doesn’t occur to her does say something about her character.

CHEL: Also, why didn’t Vriska feed the spider on animals? The possibility is never so much as considered by her or anyone else, though it seems the most obvious thing to do. Sure, the spider might be picky, but as we said, it can’t leave the valley due to its size, or it’d be hunting for itself. If it’s left with the choice to eat cows or die, it’d presumably pick the former, especially since the lusii aren’t supposed to be sapient and thus wouldn’t have the capacity for spite. For assuming that Vriska did what she had to when such a screamingly obvious better option is never addressed, here we go with a new count, which will rise whenever Vriska’s horrible actions are excused.

ALL THE LUCK: 1

Back to the scene, Scratch claims omniscience, which Vriska mocks.

AG: Sure you know a lot, 8ut I know for a FACT there's stuff you don't know.

That's true.

But the gaps in my knowledge exist by design.

They are the pillars of shadow on which my comprehensive vision is built.

Necessary pockets of void meant to effectuate outcomes I've foreseen and which will require my influence.

Each dark pocket, in time, will be filled.

[...]

I don't lie.

Deception is only necessary for those like you to achieve their objectives.

I play with my cards face up.

Isn't it funny how during our various matches, I can tell you what my moves will be in advance, and still win?

Vriska, angered by this, does in fact plan to kill Aradia; Not much point in living with all these moaning spooks just to spite some guy you don't give a shit about. She can’t control Aradia because Aradia’s own powers get in the way, but there are other people she can use.

How about this guy? Unfortunately, you can only control him about half the time.

Then again, that should be all the time you need.

Cut back to Aradia’s place, and she receives a message from Vriska, telling her her boyfriend is outside.

BRIGHT: Vriska also lightheartedly tells Aradia she’s sorry, and that she’ll make it up to ‘him’ someday. Presumably ‘he’ is meant to be Tavros, except that Vriska seemed to think Tavros was dead in literally the last conversation she had. This is probably just a slip-up on Hussie’s part, but it’s possible to read this as Vriska referring to a different ‘he’ entirely, considering what’s about to happen.

CHEL: Aradia looks, and sees a figure hovering telekinetically over the fields....

Note what’s in his hand. You do not under any circumstances eat the mind honey… His eyes start flashing and Aradia looks afraid, but we suddenly cut to a view of Alternia, and then to a closeup of its green moon. The prompt instructs us to Be the white text guy, and we meet him in a very familiar-looking green mansion.

You try to be the white text guy, but fail to be the white text guy. No one can be the white text guy except for the white text guy.

The white text guy is known as Doc Scratch.

He is an officer of an indestructible demon known as Lord English. His job is to pave the way for the arrival of his master, who will be summoned upon the termination of the universe. He has worked at this task for many centuries, and will continue to do so until THE GREAT UNDOING.

Scratch is Alternia's FIRST GUARDIAN. Every planet destined for intelligent life has such an entity meant to protect it, and facilitate the planet's ultimate purpose. A first guardian is typically almost as old as the planet itself, and each has a unique, circuitous origin through the knots of paradox space. They can be born into a great diversity of forms, though they all share a common, especially potent genetic sequence.

Remember Rose’s MEOW book, and how DD used it to create Becquerel? Yep.

The code grants them near omnipotence, and when merged with a host of great intelligence, near omniscience as well.

BRIGHT: Only near-omniscence, however. Scratch is surprised to find Terezi contacting him, but he’s able to work out that she got Sollux to help pretty fast:

Occasionally I discover there are things I have not always known.

It gives me the opportunity to make deductions, which are practically always flawless.

It's gratifying.

He also suggests she call him ‘Mr. Vanilla Milkshake’, and then hints that Aradia might not be straightforwardly dead by stating that Sollux and Terezi believe she is dead, and will soon believe she is not, both of which are true statements about their beliefs rather than reality.

Props to Hussie on this: I’m pretty sure every Homestuck fan wants to punch Scratch in the face. He’s just so obnoxious.

Terezi, however, refuses to let Scratch keep derailing her for long. She wants Scratch to get involved in their feud again, and she has a good reason for him: She knows how Vriska’s been able to come so close to beating Scratch in their games lately. Before she can tell him, though, she needs to talk to Vriska again.

She starts by asking how Vriska feels about killing Aradia, after she promised not to. Vriska responds with dramatic insincerity about how she feels awful, and then says Terezi should be happy that Team Charge is out of the picture.

AG: Uuuuuuuugh, what do you want from me????????

GC: 1M NOT SUR3

GC: 1 GU3SS 1M LOOK1NG FOR SOM3 R34SON TO CH4NG3 MY M1ND

GC: 1 DONT KNOW WH4T YOU C4N S4Y TH4TLL DO 1T

GC: 1 SORT4 HOP3 TH3R3S SOM3TH1NG THOUGH

In the end, there isn’t. Terezi tells Vriska she’ll be dead in a couple of minutes, and to ‘CONSULT W1TH YOUR L1TTL3 4DV4NT4G3’ if she doesn’t believe it, then leaves the conversation.

Vriska’s little advantage turns out to be a MAGIC CUE BALL, which is similar to a magic 8 ball except that it’s predictions are specific and accurate, and it lacks a portal through which the user can read said predictions. Fortunately that’s not an obstacle for Vriska: Her VISION EIGHTFOLD allows her to see through the opaque casing.

CHEL: Vision Eightfold is the vision from the one of Vriska’s eyes which has seven pupils, which she covered with an eyepatch with seven rubies on it when she was FLARPing. Also remember that Jade had a Magic Cue Ball but couldn’t read it? Yeah, it’s another one.

BRIGHT: One other thing: According to rumour, it used to belong to the man on the moon.

As Vriska asks the cueball whether she should be worried about Terezi’s threat (answer: YES), Terezi lets Scratch know where his missing property has gone. Vriska asks the cueball how it’s going to happen…

I WILL EXPLODE IN YOUR FACE.

Boom.

This section is one of my favourite Terezi moments. It really shows off Terezi’s ability to outthink and manoeuvre people. She’s never spoken to Scratch before, but she still plays him against Vriska easily.

CHEL: This is why Vriska has a plain eyepatch and a robot arm in her future appearances, but she’s otherwise fine. Bluebloods are tough, apparently.

BRIGHT: Back in the future, Spidermom has survived the rubble falling on her, but just barely. Vriska puts her out of her misery with her magic dice, which summon up a massive guillotine and decapitate the lusus, drenching Vriska in spider blood.

GORE GALORE: 11

The decapitation sets off another landslide, sending Equius’s house straight down on Vriska’s head, but before it can land, a portal opens underneath it and transports it into the Medium.

Vriska promptly jumps on Trollian to freak out about this, because her plan depended on her getting Aradia’s surprise present from Equius to pass along and then Aradia and Vriska entering the Medium together, and never mind that a house was about to fall on her -- in fact, when Aradia points out that Vriska was about to die, Vriska accuses her of planning this. Aradia placidly agrees.

CHEL: This is part of my evidence for thinking Vriska might not be neurotypical. Not the priorities most people would have. Also, meanwhile, note that the lusii have the same blood colour as their charges, while the non-lusus animals Nepeta killed were black and had red blood. I’m not sure whether that’s a species trait, or a side effect of the weird bond between them (doesn’t make a lot of biological sense, but then this is basically fantasy with a sci-fi coat of paint).

Vriska is enraged by things not going the way she planned; her grand gesture of apology, the robot body, will now be handed over by Equius and not her, ruining her chance to be friends again with Aradia. Again, she doesn’t seem to understand how apologies work.

AA: were we ever really friends

AG: Yeah!!!!!!!!

AG: I don't know. I felt like we were even if you didn't think so.

AG: I guess I'm not very good at acting like a friend. Or saying stuff like, hey friend! You're my friend! It doesn't really occur to me.

For some strange reason related to her prototyping with the frog statue, Aradia types out “ribbit” into the chatbox, and informs Vriska she’s not on the Blue team as she expected, enraging Vriska further. Vriska accuses her of taking revenge, which Aradia denies, saying Vriska was always going to be on the Red team, and that she doesn’t care about her death.

AG: You're so infuri8ing! Why c8n't you just h8 me? It would 8e a lot easier th8t way.

AG: Or at least feel 8othered or annoyed or S8METHING! God!!!!!!!!

AG: May8e I sh8uld just rip my he8rt out of my chest and pound it to a 8loody pulp here on my desk with my sup8r strong ro8ot arm.

AG: Pound pound pound pound pound pound pound pound!

AG: Look at that, more nasty 8lue 8lood all over me. Why not! Might as well op8n the floodg8s and p8nt my whole hive with this oh so envia8le cerulean SWILL.

AG: 8ecause clearly it's up to me to feel em8tions for the 8oth of us, you misera8le soulless witch!

AA: 0_0

AG: I h88888888 you!

AG: H8 h8 h8 h8 h8 h8 h8 haaaaaaaate!

AG: I only regret killing you cause it m8de you so 8ORING!!!!!!!!

AA: s0rry

Aradia assures her that the teams are meaningless, but being on the Red team will put Vriska in the position they need her in. Vriska’s confused and angry, and leaves the chat.

In Equius’ LAND OF CAVES AND SILENCE, he trolls Aradia again, telling her he will be the sole leader, which she doesn’t care about. He’s surprised she isn’t objecting, and says he needs a towel.

CT: D --> Never mind

CT: D --> I'm trying to stay professional about this

AA: ab0ut what

AA: what are y0u talking ab0ut

CT: D --> Forget it

CT: D --> It's just pleasant to consort with one of lesser breeding who clearly understands her place

He’s been established to suffer from hyperhydrosis, but he’s clearly also supposed to be getting off on this, which, since he’s thirteen, is icky to read.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 12

It only gets worse.

CT: D --> I 100k forward to seeing how well you serve me, server player

AA: uh

AA: thats n0t quite the meaning 0f the w0rd server

CT: D --> What do you mean

AA: as y0ur server i manipulate y0ur envir0nment t0 help y0u advance

CT: D --> I don't understand

CT: D --> Are you

CT: D --> Are you saying

CT: D --> That

CT: D --> You are in a position of control over me

AA: i supp0se s0

CT: D --> Oh

AA: what

CT: D --> Oh my God

He babbles about how he needs fresh air or another towel, getting so agitated he actually drops an F-bomb, which he immediately covers up with “Fiddlesticks”. He says he wants to break something, and Aradia offers to break something for him, as she’s developed an interest in breaking things recently. Next page, she flings an “abluti0n trap” through his wall.

FAILURE ARTIST: The running gag of girls fucking up boy’s homes with bathroom appliances continues!

CHEL: He’s very happy, except about her commoner slang.

CT: D --> In fact, this is an order from your leader

CT: D --> Call things by their proper names

AA: what

AA: y0u want me t0 call it a bath tub

AA: that s0unds ridicul0us

As FA noted, this bit of worldbuilding ends up retconned out with all trolls calling things by strange rewordings later on.

Whatever it’s called, Equius asks her to throw it through the wall again. She asks if that’s an order, and he can’t decide.

CT: D --> You could cause quite a bother for me, with the power you wield

CT: D --> I can do nothing to stop you, peasant girl

CT: D --> It's so magnificently depraved

CALL CPA PLEASE: 13

Aradia ribbits again and he takes it for roleplaying, but commands her to continue to do as she pleases. He tells her he’s bringing the robot body, and muses on whether she should actually be co-leader again; in fact, he decides, she should be the actual leader, in secret, through him. She points out that’s what they’re doing anyway.

CT: D --> You take to authority well for one of your b100d

AA: i d0nt have bl00d

CT: D --> Not yet

CT: D --> But soon your heart will beat anew, and through it, fresh b100d and fresh passion

AA: 0_0

CALL CPA PLEASE: 14

Equius proceeds to STRONGJUMP right up to his first Gate, punching off an ogre’s head as he goes, and to STRONGFALL out into LOQAM, where Aradia waits. Equius hands over the robot and Aradia enters it; she seems happy, but Equius cautiously asks if she feels anything else.

EQUIUS: D --> Can you detect anything within you might describe as

EQUIUS: D --> Smoldering passion

[...]

ARADIABOT: 0h g0d

ARADIABOT: 0H MY G0D WHAT DID Y0U D0!

ARADIABOT: did y0u pr0gram this r0b0t t0 have feelings f0r y0u?

ARADIABOT: R0MANTIC FEELINGS???

EQUIUS: D --> Hrrrk

ARADIABOT: ANSWER ME BLUE BL00D SCUM

EQUIUS: D --> I

EQUIUS: D --> Yes

EQUIUS: D --> Uh

EQUIUS: D --> It's a chip in your heart

EQUIUS: D --> Is that not ok

Understandably, it is emphatically not.

GORE GALORE: 12

Now, this is undeniably a really, really, really creepy thing to do. I’m not sure how much blame can be applied to Equius here, though; he’s been raised in a society which would presumably tell him she would have to accept his advances no matter what, considering their caste difference. In a horrifying way, the chip might have been, in his mind, the nicer option. Still, as I said, creepy.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 15

BRIGHT: I think it’s telling that he asks if it’s not okay after Aradia freaks out, as though he honestly hadn’t considered that Aradia might have a problem with it. Specifically, up until that point, Equius seems to be interacting with Aradia more like she’s a prop than a person — it doesn’t seem to occur to him that she might not want what he wants, unless their wants conflict in a way that he finds titillating. Then she freaks out and he’s surprised. And that in turn speaks volumes about how lowbloods are viewed by highbloods in wider society.

Contrast Vriska, who absolutely realises that people down spectrum can have their own agendas and emotional reactions; she just does her own thing anyway. Vriska is actively malicious; Equius is, at least in this case, accidentally malicious. Note that he doesn’t make any effort to prevent her from removing the chip once he realises she’s distressed. (Not that he really gets a chance.)

Equius in particular also seems to have a problem about slotting people into roles in general -- he does it with Gamzee, too, although since Gamzee is higher-blooded than him, he has to at least face the fact that Gamzee doesn’t fit into his role. He comes across as very sheltered.

FAILURE ARTIST: Equius considers it such a good thing to be a highblood that he thinks he’s doing her the greatest favor by turning her into one.

CHEL: This also brings up the question of where he got all that blue blood. I hope it’s synthetic. If not, he’s already said he doesn’t kill animals, so I’m not sure whether it’s creepier if he killed another troll for it or if he slowly drained it off from his own.

Aradia’s not contemplating that, too busy crushing the artificial heart and slapping the shit out of Equius for multiple pages, before, er…

Yes, she’s apparently making out with him as a reward for violating her mind, even after the chip was removed.

BRIGHT: The first time I read Homestuck, I thought that was meant to imply that not all of the programming was gone.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie did confirm the programming was gone. He compared it to a failed roofying.

CHEL: This is a bit of a shock, but it makes somewhat more sense when we see more of troll culture, not long in the future. Still, right now it’s probably upsetting for a number of readers because that part of troll culture hasn’t been established, so…

CALL CPA PLEASE: 16

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 41

#Homespork #homestuck #review #reread #Let's read #homestuck meta #vriskourse

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