#and john would say the same shit about how dirk gets too into building robots to rap he thinks its awesome but also really stupid

[miraclemioart]

[isroselalondebisexual]

You're probably getting tired of doing kidswap analysis, but I just really wanna know how you think these ones would work: Rose Strider (swapped with Dirk), Dave Lalonde (swappes with Roxy), Jade Crocker, and John English?

So Rose Strider, growing up entirely alone in a very enclosed space, observing her Bro (for the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna say it’s Dirk who grew up kinda weird but generally okay) from a distance of many years. Extended isolation probably means touch is something she simultaneously craves but has NO IDEA what to do with. She observes her friends and reads over her own conversations with them a million times, overanalyzing everything partly because she’s very smart, and partly because she has nothing else to do, and partly because she has no idea how regular human beings interact because she isn’t one. Goes out swimming a lot, isn’t really mechanically minded so she doesn’t end up with Dirk’s hoverboard or anything but she’d actually probably end up a REALLY good sailor. Knows the winds, knows the waves, goes out sailing and fishing and pretends she’s a protagonist in one of Ernest Hemmingway’s novels, like The Old Man and the Sea or something. Probably hates the taste of orange soda and orange Gatorade. Thinks it’s her Bro trying to pull some kind of game with her. He was a weird dude. There’s definitely meaning here. Is the Gatorade a passive aggressive reminder to stay hydrated? Is all the soda meant to remind her that salt water is undrinkable and she must consume this processed, sugary, water-shit in order to survive? Oh, he got her good. At the same time, she probably looks up to him a lot, even if she would rather pry her own teeth out than admit it. She’s really good at sewing and knitting, and has a bunch of plush replicas of his famous smuppet empire. She sleeps holding onto an orange one she crocheted. She’s stuck isolated with only her waterproof computer and a couple robots her Bro left behind as “caretakers,” but they don’t really have any soul in them, not that she can see. So she rabidly learns everything she can. She reads wikipedia for fun, has a million tabs open at all times, learning has never lost its magic and sometimes she wonders if that’s really all she can even do. Definitely has attachment issues, where sometimes she’s cold and callous and goes long spans of time when her friends don’t see hide nor hair of her, and other times suddenly they can’t get her out of their personal space. No idea how to relate to human beings. Awake on her moon beforehand, she’s communed with the horrorterrors a bit, and has used that to her advantage as a Seer. As Seer of Heart, she knows a lot about her friends! She can see their souls in plain, she knows she’s loved, and she knows they’re all friends, and she is good at picking up on their emotions and moods. But what does she DO with that information????? John is distressed so… pat his back??? Give him chocolate??? When Dave is humored should she laugh??? Is she even in on the joke??? What does Jade need when she’s angry??? Should Rose just listen??? Give words of comfort??? Help her calm down??? Socializing is so HARD! She has all this information but doesn’t know what to DO with it! Her quest, much like Dirk, is to figure out how to be, like, a human being who can relate to others in a productive and empathetic manner.

Dave, raised in isolation, growing up adoring his mom from many years distance, with a cat-cloning machine and a bunch of chess pieces for company. He, at least, understands the basics of the social exchange. The chess dudes aren’t the BRIGHTEST, and they don’t really operate with human social norms, and they’re always hungry, and sometimes they try to eat his cats (Dave is cat dad now, those are his babies), but he likes them, they’re his buddies. Pumpkin potlucks with pumpkins imported directly from John’s island are probably pretty common? Is Dave sick of the taste of pumpkin? Probably. Does he absolutely want to have those potlucks anyway? You bet your ass he does. He’s friends with them, for all they seem to worship him as some sort of god. He probably thinks they’re all really great and adores them in a capacity similar to how he loves the Mayor. Getting to meet his friends face to face is probably something that is simultaneously the best thing in his life, and absolutely terrifying. Holy shit, those are other human beings. Dave doesn’t know how to human. He tries desperately to human, and he tries to model himself after his mom (it doesn’t end up too well), but holy shit he is a novice in the art of humaning Rose. Rose what should he do. Rose. Knight of Void, his job is to protect them from the unforseen and covert. )(IC and the Dersian agents are gonna have a harder time with Dave on the scene, and while he cannot perform Roxy’s role of leading their session, he can damn well keep it safe.

Jade Crocker, raised by Dad Crocker, in a society much like ours but slightly more advanced and as heiress to a baking empire. Probably a culinary scientist of some sort, since her whole life baking and cooking and stuff has been a thing, but she’s still, at her heart, innovative and scientific. Probably knows the nutritional properties of a tomato and lots of weird food history fun facts. An actual goddess with mettle to be meddled with and an optimistic attitude that cannot be kept down. Crockpop of course supports his daughter and is so proud of her, encourages her to pursue all her goals, and watch out for assassination attempts. Good reflexes. Definitely a dog person. The kind of girl who will make those “A cat came into my house, teleported me across town when it was raining, and left me there to call my dad to come pick me up while I stood in an abandoned field for half an hour because he plugged the wrong address into his gps” posts. Nobody really takes them seriously but since she lives with GCat meddling in her life they’re actually true. That damn cat has caused her TOO MANY PROBLEMS. If you have a cat she wants NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. Probably unironically reblogged that post about the “I’m a lesbian and I hate cats” article and insists that dogs are the only way to go. Does own a rifle in this verse, but Crockpop is VERY meticulous about gun safety and proper usage and handling and some of their father-daughter bonding time is the two of them out on the shooting range together. She’s a real sharp shot. Witch of Life, she’s a powerful healer and can revive folk, but more than that, she can FUCKING TAKE YOURS FROM YOU IF YOU CROSS HER. Like Feferi, her powers are pretty vast in what she’s capable of doing, and she doesn’t have a lot of restraints on them, so the last place you wanna be is on her bad side. She can give you life and she can take it away, bitch. Also… so this is entirely inspired by that one Overwatch character, but please imagine Jade alchemizing a rifle where the bullets are her Life magic and she just. Shoots you better. My badass daughter oh my god I love her so much.

John English would likely end up a lot like John Harley, just without the nifty chess people or magic dog and with some cool monsters plus the death of his grandma. Depression sets in early, socializing is hard, getting out of bed is hard, feeling excited or adventurous is fucking hard, even though he wants to. He wants to feel happy and good and excited, he craves that, but it’s hard. He wants to be goofy and have fun but it’s all so exhausting but talking to his friends usually makes that aching tiredness inside him alleviate for a little while. He’s not suited to isolation. As Heir of Hope, he would start out thinking that the Game got his classpect wrong. He’s not hopeful. He doesn’t embody anything remotely approximating hopefulness. But the point of the Game is that he must become hopeful, he must unfurl his wings and take to brighter skies, brighter times, build his relationships now that he can see his friends, love them fully with his whole heart, not at a distance but present and real. His story would not be the story of a plucky go-getter adventurer, but as a broken boy learning how to Hope for the first time. It is a story of overcoming, of victory, and of the desperate pursuit of forward motion, of learning how to look forward to the future and see good things in it, of finding happiness and goodness in a life of possibilities, even when faced with adversaries.

[edenfalling]

Ooh! Homestuck, Dirk, Roxy, cuddle. It's the post-Sburb world, and there are too many people all the time, and only Dirk and Roxy want to flee screaming to a (pair of) faraway mountains. Bring back the blissful solitude of the post-apocalypse.

Notcompliant with the credits snapchats, because reasons. :) [2,700 words] 

---------------------------------------------Some Little Talk aWhile of Me and Thee--------------------------------------------- 

The stupid part is, up until that one moment, Roxy washaving a really good night. All her friends (except Dirk, who hung grimly onthrough dinner and absconded immediately thereafter) together in one room, enoughdinner for everyone to eat their fill and then dessert on top of that, thepleasant ache of an honest day's work building the infrastructure of their newworld... yeah. A good night. 

Except the thing is, as much as she needs people -- and sheneeds people a lot, needs that feedback loop of attention paid and returned --there's a big difference between hanging out online and hanging out with adozen people jammed together in a single room. And she hasn't been gettingalone time during the days either, always busy working with a crew ofcarapacians (who at least are quiet) and consorts (who are emphatically not). 

Roxy doesn't notice the slow buildup of stress, but she canpinpoint exactly when the night tips from I-can-manage to oh-god-make-it-stop. 

She's been kibitzing on the edges of Rose, John, and Jane'smeal planning session (defusing any baby disagreements before they grow intoanything serious), keeping half an ear on the Pictionary session Callie,Kanaya, and Terezi have going in the far corner, and watching Jade gleefullyannihilate Dave and Karkat at Mario Kart. It's maybe a little bit much to betracking all at once, but the satisfaction outweighs the strain until Davethrows a piece of popcorn at Jade, who teleports it into the tangle of Karkat'shair, who draws breath in preparation for an inside-voice-what-inside-voicerant, and Roxy is abruptly and completely done.Zip, zilch, finito, cutlery shop's closed up and all the merchandise is gone. 

She shoves herself up from the warm and squashy armchair shestaked out as her private territory back when they first built this grouphouse, and says to nobody in particular: "I'm gonna go check on Dirk, it'sbeen a while since he noped out and I want to make sure he hasn't broken his neckor started a robot apocalypse in his sleep." 

Rose and Jane break off their debate over the relativemerits of fish tacos and sushi to give her a pair of sharp glances. John justlooks adorkably confused. 

Roxy dredges up a smile from her last reserves of sociability. 

It must not be very convincing, because Rose frowns andtenses like she's going to ask if Roxy needs any help, or maybe even stand upand give her a hug. Her concern is like a warm mug of hot chocolate, but thething about warm mugs of hot chocolate is they're awesome on a frigid winterday after messing around in the snow for a couple hours, but this specific timeand place are more like a metaphorical scorching summer day when you're alreadysugared out and anything sweet makes you want to gag. In other words, amomdaughter's loving attention is nice in theory, but it's not conducive tonoping the fuck out of the room, not to mention if anyone touches her rightnow, Roxy might actually break down and scream. 

Fortunately, Jane rescues her. 

She does something to Rose -- elbows her? kicks her underthe coffee table? hard to say -- and while Rose is busy trying to regather hertrain of thought, Jane grins at Roxy, somehow managing to make the expressionboth obviously fake and equally obviously made of 24-carat solid goldsincerity. 

"That sounds like an excellent plan!" she says."When you find him, tell him that Jade needs to run the latest plans forthe electricity grid past him, particularly the battery storage systems forevening the solar and wind outputs. I think the files are in the civilengineering dropbox account, so he shouldn't need to ask her for anything untilhe's finished reviewing and annotating them." 

Roxy nods. 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Scram!" Janemakes little shooing motions with her hands. 

Rose, apparently catching on to Roxy's actual state of mind,smiles benevolently and waves goodbye. "Au revoir," she says in herperpetually dry tone. "If anyone asks where you are, I'll tell them I sentyou to give daddy dearest my love, perhaps in the form of seagull pie." 

Jane rolls her eyes. John snickers and sticks out his tonguein mostly mock-disgust. 

"Thanks, guys," Roxy manages to say, and flees. 

--------------- 

After a indeterminate period of time trying not tohyperventilate in her en suite bathroom, she sits cross-legged on her bed andwonders if she ought to make good on her escape excuse. 

Dirk's even worse with large groups than Roxy is and doesn'tmake any attempt to pretend otherwise, but he's still human (no matter how muchhe sometimes dislikes that fact) and even the most introverted human is, atbase, a social animal. And not all contact has to be as overwhelming as groupevents. 

Roxy pulls out her phone, briefly contemplates calling him,then tosses that plan right the fuck out the window. Voices are bullshit. Textis their mutual mother tongue, and she'd bet at least half a baby universe Dirkisn't up for vocalizing right now. 

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified[TT] -- 

TG: the thing nobody ever tells you about other people ishow fuckin NOISY they areTG: amiright?TG: i never thought id say this, but i miss ourpost-apocalyptic disaster zoneTG: not like, the looming threat of the batterwitch n shit,but the quietTG: maybe even some of the survivalist stuffTG: rose and the crockerberts gave me the weirdest look wheni said we should make seagull pie for our next movie night extravaganzaTG: there is GOOD EATING on seagullsTG: and they make a nice change from fish you know?TG: i thought id finally gotten away from descaling fishwhen we ditched sea hitlers water hellscape, but nopeTG: here we are back to fish for every meal that doesnt comestraight from our alchemiters and dwindling stocks of gristTG: (its ok you dont have to talk back if you dont want to)TG: (i just wanted to bitch to someone who gets it)TT: It's cool.TT: I know exactlywhat you mean about the quiet.TT: If you're game toendure the ultra minimum of human contact, i.e., breathing within the samecubic meter of air, I'm on the roof by the south chimney.TT: If not, I can seethe dock and it's currently unoccupied.TT: Assuming this isa day when the incessant susurrus of waves will invoke positive memories ratherthan negative ones, that could make a decent temporary retreat.TG: awww, ur a sweetie, sitting watch over our friends likea depressed gargoyleTG: on due consideration im ok with breathing your grosspre-breathed airTG: maybe if we get really daring we can work up to touchingpinky fingers!TG: le gaspTT: Scandalous. What will the neighbors say?TT: But I'm down forperversion if you are, Ms. Lalonde.TG: k hang onto your panties, im coming up 

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified[TT] -- 

--------------- 

Roxy scrambles over the edge of the roof (she could justfly, of course, but where's the fun in that?) to find Dirk not just near thesouth chimney but actually curled up in the angle where it meets the solartiles, using the heat radiating from the bricks to counter the early autumnchill. He has his shades off in deference to the darkness, but his eyes are closedinstead of aimed up toward the frankly gorgeous light of the pink and whitemoons, both approaching full tonight. 

Roxy flops back against the dark tiles of the roof, armsspread wide, and watches the moons flirt with thin veils of cloud. Her friends'voices drift out of the open windows downstairs, but distance and the ambientsounds of wind and wave blur them into a companionable sort of white noise. Theconsorts' various weekend parties are louder, but further away; noticeable onlywhen a line or two of song finds a favorable breeze or a new branch tossed on abonfire sends a gust of sparks above the trees and roofs of the slowly growingtown. 

The carapacians' celebrations, of course, make no sound. 

She and Dirk breathe in companionable silence for nearly anhour, while the white moon travels fifteen degrees toward zenith and the pinkmoon nearly twenty degrees in the same direction, edging toward partialeclipse. Roxy's still kind of giddy over the orbital mechanics of a three-bodysystem, and the difference two moons make in the rhythm of the tides. It couldtake years to work the changes into her bones. 

She has years tospend on things like that. She spent her whole childhood isolated and trappedunder an incessant, shadowy weight. Now it's gone. She's free. She's not aloneanymore. 

It would be nice if she were better at coping with thatchange. 

Beside her, Dirk sighs, pulls his legs up to his chest, andrests his face between his knees. Something's gone cockeyed in his head again,and if nobody interrupts him he'll just debate himself into knots and grandiose'for your own good' bullshit stunts. 

And hey, an hour of silence isn't enough to get Roxyanywhere near ready to face a crowd, but it's more than enough to talk to heroldest friend. 

"The dumbest thing," she says, jumping straight inbecause what's the sense in wasting mouth noises on irrelevancies, "isthat weekend movie nights aren't even party-parties,nothing loud or crazy intense. It's just all our best friends hanging out oncomfy sofas playing goofy sleepover games, but stupid me got so wound up I hadto run screaming into the night. Otherwise I would've lost my shit at them overfish tacos and a popcorn fight, and that's just wrong with a capital R." 

"Capital W," Dirk mutters, uncurling slightly andtilting his head until a sliver of orange iris is visible over the edge of hisright knee. 

"Pedant," Roxy says, rather than draw attention tohis temporary lack of shades. "I just keep thinking, it shouldn't bug meso much. You've got a perfect excuse to flip out at extended socialinteractions, mister raised-by-robots. I actually had real live neighbors. Ishould be over this by now." 

Dirk shrugs, which looks incredibly doofy when he's allcurled up like a pill bug. "As people keep telling me, brains aren'tparticularly logical organs. Besides, there's a pretty big difference betweensign language and a dozen plus people with actual vocal cords, some of whomhave a tragically shaky grasp of appropriate volume control." 

"Ha. Yeah. Still." 

"Still," Dirk agrees. 

Roxy spreads her arms wide, staring up at the moons and theas-yet-unnamed constellations of their new universe, galaxy, solar system.Their new sun's a little brighter than Sol used to be -- a little smaller inthe sky, a little more pure-white than yellow-white -- and more like Alternia'ssun in its position vis-à-vis galactic center, which makes for some amazinglydense and brilliant starscapes. And she's saying this as a person who grew upwith no artificial light to blank out old Earth's night skies. 

"Humans made the trolls' signs into constellationswithout any outside influence, just the shape of the universe orsomething," she muses. "I wonder if it's cheating to design ourconstellations ourselves." 

Dirk shrugs again, a faint movement of shadow against darkershadow in the corner of her vision. "All our sessions were fucked from thestart; we had to cheat just to get out alive. What's a little more cheatingcompared to that? Ethical qualms aside, I'm pretty sure this planet isn't goingto be the focus of any future Sburb sessions. That dubious honor goes to the billionsof native planets kicking around this universe. If anyone's getting gentlymanipulated into using three-eyed cats and purple horrorterrors as part oftheir star myths, it's all those statistically inevitable aliens out there inthe wild black yonder." 

"I bet their myths kick ass," Roxy says. 

"I believe that's more or less implicit in thedefinition of the word. I'm not sure what they'll make of a hat or an LPrecord, though," Dirk says. 

This time it's Roxy's turn to shrug. "Old-schoolD&D monsters, maybe? Or no, ten gets you one they'll go with crows andseagulls instead." She pauses, reconsiders. "Then again, Terezi'ssymbol is basically a giant lab tool with a shit-ton of cultural baggage, andKarkat's is kind of like, handcuffs, right? Maybe hats wind up as a symbol ofintellect and general badassery -- oh! or artificial life, like Frosty theSnowman's magic hat, 'cause of your robots and puppets thing -- and recordssymbolize creativity and art and stuff." 

"Hats as a symbol of hubris and overreach, morelikely," Dirk mutters. 

Roxy wriggles sideways until she's just close enough toflick the fingertips of her left hand against the side of his shoe. "Knockit off, dumbass. Nobody gets to badmouth my best friend -- not even my bestfriend." 

Dirk unburies his face and meets Roxy's eyes straight on,one eyebrow raised. "I was under the impression that that title belongedto either Jane or Calliope. When did I inherit the position, and why was I notpreviously informed of this change in status? Are you sure you're followingfriend protocol correctly?" 

Roxy flicks his shoe again. "Friendship is a bigcategory! You're all, like, different instantiations of the concept of 'bestfriend' -- Callie's my squee and kissing partner, Janey's my partner in crime,Rosie's my sister, Jake's my goofing off friend, Dave's my surrealism feedbackdude, John's my maybe-kinda-sorta other kissing partner, and so on and soforth. You, Dirk Strider, are theperson who knows me best in two and a half entire fucking universes. Okay?You're the one who knows what it's like. If I ever run off to be a hermit on amountaintop, I want you to come be a hermit on the mountain next door. We cansend heliograph messages back and forth, or learn how to yodel and shit, andonce a month we'll get together and have a wild and crazy hermit party, justthe two of us. That's the kind of best friend you are for me." 

Dirk is silent for a long moment. Then he unwraps his righthand from his legs and lets it drop downward until his fingertips are justbrushing the soft, ticklish (completely un-carapacian) skin of Roxy's leftwrist, right over the veins carrying blood back to her heart. 

"All that, back at you," he says. 

Roxy blinks back a sudden rush of tears, and laces theirfingers together. Dirk lets her. 

"Jade has some electric grid plans for you to lookover," she says after a minute. "You can do that anywhere,right?" 

"Yeah," Dirk says. 

"Then come seagull hunting with me tomorrow. Just the twoof us, out on the water. Like old times. I have a harpoon gun I've been wantingto try out, and we can tell anyone who complains that we're taking soundingsand stuff for potential tidal generators. Hell, we can even actually do that.But I miss you. I keep getting tangled up in everyone else and losing sight ofus." 

Dirk squeezes her fingers. From him, it's as good as a hug. 

"Yeah," he says. "It's a plan." 

Roxy looks up at the night sky rather than try to put heremotions into words. There's a patch that looks a bit like a cat with wings, ifshe squints and takes some heavy artistic license. She holds up her phone inher right hand and adjusts the camera settings until she can snap a usefulpicture. She'll photoshop the constellation in later tonight and show it toDirk tomorrow: their friendship, immortalized in stars. 

"Cool," she says. 

They watch the pink moon overtake the white one in silence,fingers still entwined, the same air pumping in and out of their lungs. 

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End of Fic 

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It's still a little disjointed, I think, but whatever. Iwin. \o/