#dirk is my muse (this is a bad thing)

[pumpkin-mines]

a couple wips. I don't really like drawing lately

[imtrashraccoon]

Here you go lovelies, eat up!

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Nightmare - Foolish

Word Count: 673

Dirk reached for the door handle. "i wonder if they know we're here..." he murmured.

The moment he opened the door, Donovan abruptly yanked you to the side as the rogue just managed to dodge a bright red beam of magic. It hit the wall where you had been standing moments before. Your eyes widened as a section of the rock wall about the size of your head crumbled to dust.

Dirk immediately slammed the door and backed away, as if anticipating someone to come break it down. "well!" He slowly turned to look at you with a nervous grin. "it seems that, yes, they do know..." he remarked.

"No kidding," you muttered, eyeing the damaged wall.

Donovan hummed thoughtfully as he examined the wall as well. "Interesting..." He turned to Dirk and asked, "Could you describe for me what that monster looked like?"

"well, it's like a big purple ball with an eye, and at least half a dozen tentacles with eyes on the tips..."

The dark lord nodded as the rogue explained. At some point, you heard him mutter the word "beholder" under his breath, but he seemed to be musing out loud rather than directly talking to any of you.

"Is that a dangerous monster?" you asked quietly. You knew what the answer would be, but a small part of you really hoped you were wrong.

"Yes, they are very powerful, but also rather rare." He frowned and looked around the room before adding, "We must be further underground than I thought since they don't usually like the sun..."

"sooo, what should we do then? we definitely can't just sneak out now," Dirk asked.

Donovan seemed to snap back to reality at that. "We'll need to finish this now."

"What? You saw what it did to the wall," you protested. "We can't counter magic like that."

The dark lord gave you an understanding look and gently stroked the fur between your ears with his claws. "Don't worry, Dearest. I'll handle the beholder." He glanced at Dirk before adding, "I need you both to watch my back and keep anyone else from interfering."

The assassin rogue nodded and did a half bow. "yes boss."

You hummed in agreement, "You can count on us for that!"

"Good. I'll go first, stay behind me until I have it's complete attention."

Donovan waited until you and Dirk nodded before turning to the door again. He raised his left hand, summoning a large shield-shaped field of cyan magic in front of him. You eyed what you knew was a ward spell, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the sheer display of his strength and knowing this was still barely a fraction of his power.

It was a good thing he had decided to put up the ward before attempting to open the door, because as soon as he did, another ray of magic glanced harmlessly off the surface. This one was a sickly green and you didn't even want to think about what it was supposed to do. With a deep breath, you summoned your meteor hammer and braced yourself for a fight. Having the spectral chain in your grasp actually helped you feel better, like you stood a chance at surviving what was coming next.

"this is foolish," you heard Dirk mutter. The rogue rolled his shoulder and simultaneously drew his dagger, idly flipping it around like he wasn't handling a sharp piece of metal at all. Interestingly, his permanent grin was drawn wide, almost crazed, and his target-shaped soul now seemed to vibrate with pent up energy.

You couldn't resist needling him a bit. "True," you hummed. "But there's nothing like the threat of death to make you feel alive..."

While you had expected Dirk to at least roll his non-existent eyelights or make some sort of witty remark, Donovan actually surprised you with a soft chuckle. You caught a glimmer of something dangerous in his lone cyan eyelight, but it was gone before you could begin to wonder about it.

[noddaduck]

I’m not going to get pictures like some more competent people but I’m gonna spill my thoughts about Homestuck^2 so far. Also HiveSwap.

First off, I wasn’t really put off by the “mischaracterization”/poor focus/problematic content of the Candy timeline, or the Meat timeline either cause you know it got bad there too. Dirk’s unfortunate feeling of need to prove himself and make something good out of his life spiraled and mixed with whatever genuine need for a narrative was present in an unfortunate way, and Rose didn’t need to be entirely coerced to join him. Or didn’t need to be entirely coerced, honestly both wordings seem to be valid and relevant at the same time: any wrongness of the whole situation can be Dirk manipulating too much and Rose being also unhealthily draw toward self erasure through playing roles and doing what “matters” at the same time.

I’ve seen people talk a lot about people in real life can be misguided trying to fit a “role” that wasn’t really as good or worthwhile or easy as it was taught to them or promised to them: fathers become distant because they believe they’ve already done the work by getting to that point and aren’t supposed to need to do anything else to achieve “family” and that role of patriarch. Now we see several characters struggling aimlessly - or in entirely wrong directions - to be someone or something they don’t understand or shouldn’t really need to aim for. Jane and Dirk try to be gods, John is killed for being a hero in the Meat and fails to be a father in Candy.

Then we have the Narrative facet, capital N included. The Candy timeline somewhat stunk to me as someone “playing with their tuoys” to quote a phrase, the fact that our more innocent and playful Meat!Callie unwittingly played a part in its various happenings clears some of that up. I was assuming the Red and Dead Muse was mainly to blame and just couldn’t fight the fanfic writer within them. I still assume the existence of specifically four (4) children, the exact number of players in the first session we were introduced to, is probably one of the Muse’s moves on this chessboard; thus explaining why the exact way this came about might not have been considerate to the feelings of everyone involved.

But the actual exact motivations that brought about the circumstances of Yiffy’s birth, that’s all Meat!Callie. Say what you want, but they know their friends. I will be accepting no arguments why Callie should resist their natural cherub enjoyment of black romance when indulging in what they believed to be harmless, very private fanfiction about their real live actual friends. I hope the revelation that everything Callie writes can and will come to life and happen to real people is gentle.

The whole “your entire planet full of people you were given responsibility for even though you are now realizing that probably wasn’t a good idea is in a black hole and about to be destroyed” situation has been left in the hands of Homestuck’s new most incompetent, dysfunctional, and generally unsuited group of people. Will they learn to fix situations without giving up, abandoning the entire timeline and starting over, or will they die? Will anyone stop John from fucking off and leaving the planet only to show up and kill Dirk right at the worst moment, probably after or during Dirk’s redemption arc or something? Who knows, but if Meat!Callie and Karkat weren’t on the case there I would be very concerned about everyone else turning their eyes away from that absolute trash disaster.

Also Caliborn’s soul being moshed together with Equius, Gamzee and Lil Hal - and therefore probably Dirk - is something I really want to get into further and I’m hoping it includes them all being split back apart and Cal having to deal with Godtier not even being meta anymore. Like hey, the whole “we need plot and conflict to survive” thing sounds like your real villain here, wouldn’t the real best punishment for Cal be to become a shmuck who has to deal with consequences and nobody actually has to forgive him? Dirk’s problems probably shouldn’t be fixed by no longer having a soul link to the main antagonist of the last story, but some part of me wants to see him realize that after all his efforts to master all the mechanics one of his biggest worries was actually partially coming from that one (1) debuff someone easily gets rid of. Also Arquius deserves legs.

Seriously though, aside from wanting to see all the classes and aspects explored and explained better I really want to see where Sburb came from in the first place, and I’m hoping to see it fully treated as a villain in and of itself. The destruction of these entire worlds being an innate part of the whole thing shouldn’t be allowed to slink behind the “Great Reward” and be forgotten. A single planet gets destroyed and a new universe is born, possibly several. But the destroyed planet isn’t actually used, the players aren’t even biologically from there, they just happen to mirror the sentient inhabitants of that planet. What IS gained from the sacrificed worlds, however, is culture and inspiration. Each successful game requires a piece of information from each player, a physical object from before entering the session that gets prototyped and spread into the Medium.

To me this paints a picture of an entity that wants its game to be played, wants it to be eventful and interesting. So it dips its players into whatever planet it comes across, snips off and Dooms all timelines other than the one it likes, and keeps them from questioning why they are playing by dangling a reward in front of them and limiting their awareness and concern about how it alters their reality. Each player starts off with varying degrees of familiarity with the game mechanics that have apparently existed their whole life, John and Joey from HiveSwap giving off the greatest feeling of “hey this actually only just started being a thing” through their inner monologues. Also the general existence of pants with pockets, especially cargo pants, in a world where everyone physically can’t pick things up without struggling with a convoluted inventory system. The fact that some of them have only just started leveling up could have been excused on its own by being behind the age milestone, but when Joey’s inner thoughts seem to really have to work to sell the idea that these mechanics have always existed that really sealed the deal for me. In the whole Friendsim, seemingly noncanonical and disconnected from HS^2 (which in turn is only dubiously canonical to the main HS, I hear some of you seething) is almost entirely devoid of game mechanics, as if those systems only start to exist and implement themselves for the players and those related to them, and even then only when the game is close to beginning. Maybe Joey wouldn’t have ever had a Captchalog Sylladex, and the un-janky and uncomplicated one both she and all the other characters got was a sign that they had been unanticipated by something.

[borzoilover69]

I would like you to elaborate on dirk and Dave's relationship post game! 0u0

I want to make one thing clear. Neither of them are particularly bad people for reacting the way they do. They are products of their environments and their upbringings, and this reflects a LOT in their behaviour. This is my personal interpretation.

I think it starts off generally well. They have enough in common to talk a lot, and so much to catch up on! I’d imagine they chat for quite a while and build up raport.. and then as time goes on, they start to sort of get on each others nerves.

Dirk has a habit of over analysing and trying to get into peoples minds to further understand them. This isnt a bad thing, i think he genuinely does it out of wanting to understand and “vibe” with them better, but it may seem weird and unncessary for others. What with being isolated socially for so long, the alpha kids in general have some strange ways of saying things that seem perfectly normal to them, as well as interpretation, that strike others as off or strange, and dirk is no exception. They arent as handy with social cues.

This is important because well, while Dave is good at running his mouth, he struggles to articulate effectively when he cares. Im sure as we have seen in canon, especially with people he loves, Dirk will probably try to look too deep into it and reach a conclusion that isnt the best. Dirk needs people he cares about to communicate honestly and openly. This is something Dave will struggle to do due to his aforementioned inability to articulate when he cares the most.

Of course I cannot forget mentioning the abuse in the relationship Dave had with his bro. One that on reflection of his childhood later, led to him being incredibly uncomfortable with when he realised the way he was brought up was certainly not normal. It did not help qualm Daves nerves. Especially when Dirk said he could see himself doing that. Dave is compassionate, but he is not entirely forgiving. I feel that while Dirk thinks its best to be aware of this manner, it would just make Dave uncomfortable at the idea of repetition. One which i feel he could not voice.

Diving deeper into personal musings, considering some of the evidence that Dirk coveted Dave for a long time, Given how much we see him covet Dave it has a very high chance of flipping the other way as a natural prince of heart destroying and picking at himself. Dirk has a desire to be useful, a desire to succeed, and his accomplishments fail in the face of daves in both timelines.

Dirk has two people we are established he holds especially dear to him, and that is Dave and Jake. However with that level of attachment and endearment it can become unhealthy. Dave and Jake arent the best when it comes to communication, or establishing the most stable of relationships if canon is to go off of. Without proper care and communication this turns out bad.

I personally feel like as time would go along, the silence between them would grow longer due to the lack of communication of issues between them. Dave would rather skirt them, Dirk would rather bottle them until he eventually explodes. Its that or theyd have a codependent relationship for a while before cutting it all off out of a want to fix things by trying to be there for the other, but facing difficulty in their desires being too different, Dave wanting time to build up raport and slowly close that gap while Dirk just wants to get there as efficiently as possible and missing the point of the picture.

TLDR; If you put a kid through literal isolation for 16 years and give him a meager amount of social situations its going to be very difficult for them to aclimate to someone more accustomed to the ebb and flow of relationships. If you give an abuse victim a younger alternate version of their abuser theyre never going to be ok with it entirely.

Its 3 am ill prolly delete this later

[scribblingplace]

Propositions - Bg3 Fic

“You know darling,” Astarion says brightly, fiddling With his fingers as he plasters a smile on and keeps his tone light.

“I've been thinking about you-”

He has after all, and about his other new travelling companions, and about his situation, and about how the worm is probably coming out shortly, and about how he's absolutely fucked if it does and he's left to his own devices, he needs someone on his side.

He could do worse.

The Party makes a deal with a hag, Astarion muses on his travelling companions, and his options, and makes some decisions, and I practice writing a Bg3 character who isn't my OC.

“No!”  It's really quite a surprise to see Dirk snap like that.  But then, the druid is under an awful lot of stress, they all are.  But she’s bearing it terribly.  Not a moment goes by where she doesn’t look like she wants to run or cry or snap.

Perhaps there’s no real surprise after all.  It's just a pity she's picking now to do it, when it would be so easy to just take the prize and leave Mayrina to her stupid fate.

“You're giving me the girl, you're giving me the boon, or I'm doing things to your corpse you can't come back from.  You know I know how Agnes!”

It would have been a more impressive little speech if she'd gotten the hags name right.  But there's a ripple of Dirk's magic, that clogging of the air he's getting so used too.  And for a moment, Ethel does look scared.

Rather a feat, in his opinion.  So far Dirk hasn't been able to intimidate so much as a squirrel.  And here she is yelling at a Green Hag and bullying her into submission. 

But then there's a certain tenacity to the little beast, and it is respectable.  He certainly wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of those claws.

“Girl.  Boon.  Now. I’m on a schedule!”  Dirk moves forward with every intent to gut the woman, a brief flash of magic in her eye, And her nails are dripping ichor again.

Apparently Ethel doesn't want to be on the wrong end of Dirk's claws either.

She puts her hands up in a supplicating gesture as she steps back.  “Fine.  Here.  Don’t get your knickers in a twist”  

“Take care petal.  Have fun with your tentacles.”  And then Ethel is gone in a puff of magic.

And then she pulls out a wad of hair and tosses it on the ground.   “I’ll not soon forget this sweetness, you have my word.” 

Astarion swears he sees Dirk flinch at the threat, even as she’s shouting back one of her own.  Something about turning Ethel into fertilizer, probably within her skill set.

Ethel doesn’t seem to be paying a great deal of attention either.  Because Mariana (is that her name, Astarion can not be bothered to care,) is whining now, and Ethel and her are bickering about her lousy deal, it’s mostly Ethel telling her to shut up.  Which Astarion is all for. 

Not that he speaks up.   Best not to attract the attention of malevolent fae after all.  Wyll and Gale also seem content to let this play out in the background, so maybe they’re smarter than he’s been giving them credit for.

Properly gone too, or she’d still be wreathed in faerie fire, silhouetted as she tried to flee..

“She was going to eat your baby.”  

“You bastard! You ruined it! You ruined everything!” 

Gods, they’re being shouted at by Mary anne now.  Dirk is just blinking at her owlishly.  

Astarion snorts, something about Dirk’s delivery of that damning bit of news.  He’s not sure she’s ever made a joke in her life.  But sometimes she’s very, very funny.  At least to him, because Wyll is shooting him a look for that, and Gale is clearing his throat to say something.  

“What? No, she said she’d raise it teach it magi-”

“Yeah, as a hag, that’s what hags do with babies.  They eat them, then they vomit up a new intellectually distinct baby.”  

“She lacks a bit of finesse but, essentially, yes.”  Gale chimes in, clearly feeling a bit worse for delivering that crushing blow now.  

“But she-”

“Look, whatever she was offering has a catch, and it would probably be ironic and bad and awful anyways now thank us for saving your stupid life and leave.”  Mayrina just blinks and then turns to slink off.

She does not thank them.  But then, did anyone actually expect her too.  

There’s a beat of awkward silence between the four of them before Wyll speaks up. 

“Did you have to be so harsh, she didn’t deserve-”

“Yeah she did, she’s a shit parent, and someone should tell her what she nearly did!” 

“What are we supposed to do with, that?” 

Perhaps he ought to do something.  As much fun as it would be to see them come to blows, they do have other things to get done today.  He clears his throat and points at the wad of stringy hair and scalp dangling from it.  There's a bit of mushroom too. 

“I believe the done thing with this sort of Eerie token is-” Gale is cut off by Dirk shoving it in her mouth.

“You eat It, same as the worms.” Dirk says, chewing.  

Gale gives a little nod of agreement, Wyll looks disgusted.  

“Come on, we may as well loot the place while we're here. Might have something for Gale.” Dirk is already moving off deeper into the hags lair.  

She gives a little thieves cant gesture for Astarion to follow.  

“We'll look for traps, you two do upstairs.”  

Astarion falls into step behind Dirk, a thoughtful look on his face.

It's astonishing how easily she seems to take the role of leader.  He’s not sure anyone else seems to have noticed.  She certainly doesn’t seem aware she’s the one who’s plans they follow.  Too busy bulldozing ahead in a blind panic. 

He suspects there's a lot Dirk hasn't noticed about herself. Like how useful she actually is in a fight, or how pathetically invested she gets the minute someone gives her a sincere thank you.  A scrap of affection.  

And apparently she can be a bit terrifying. 

He could certainly do worse.  

If it wasn't for all the fungus and general grime she's covered in she might even be attractive, or at least endearing.

But, as it is, she's a little impressive, and useful, and she seems to, if not actually like him. (And honestly does the little sewer rat like anyone?  He suspects not.)  Well, she agrees with him, mostly, seems startlingly indifferent to the whole vampire thing, now that it's out in the open.

He could do worse.

“You know darling,” Astarion says brightly, fiddling With his fingers as he plasters a smile on and keeps his tone light.

“I've been thinking about you-”

He has after all, and about his other new travelling companions, and about his situation, and about how the worm is probably coming out shortly, and about how he's absolutely fucked if it does and he's left to his own devices, he needs someone on his side.

He could do worse.

He could also be trying to seduce Wyll who is at the very least attractive, but Gods know they'd end up coming to blows the minute Astarion tries to actually feed himself or makes some snide comment the Blade of Frontiers doesn’t appreciate.  No, he’s out.  

So Dirk it is.

“About?”  She interrupts his Internal debate, jogs him out of that momentary hesitation.

“Oh. Us, our time together all the things we've shared, and I don't just mean your blood,” he says casually.

The speed with which Dirk whirls to face him is astonishing.  As is the look of confusion. 

Though honestly hardly a surprise, he doubts any one has ever tried to flirt with her before.

“I'm growing to like the whole package really.  And you clearly like me too so...”  

He trails off, Dirk Just stares.

“What?” 

From her tone he can tell he has misjudged this horribly, it’s still confusion mostly.  And annoyance, maybe disgust.

He should abort, run away, were this a bar in Baldur's gate he'd simply give up and move on to the next mark, but there no other sloppy desperate horny drunks around, and there are no other really viable options because everyone else in this blasted party is in a cult, or on fire or a professional monster hunter!

“Oh come now, don't be coy, your body’s already given you away, I could feel your little shakes of excitement as I was getting lost in your veins, you enjoyed it didn't you?”

“That was anxiety, I shake when I'm nervous, and you were chewing me!”

Right, this could not be going worse, Astarion takes a step back, still speaking, trying to fill the air before she can.

“Well-” Just a moment's hesitation as he recovers- “allow me to make it up to you,” he tries, “I know a secluded place not too far from the grove, we could take an evening to ourselves, indulge in one another.”

She's staring at him like he's grown a second head.  Has he been too subtle?

“No.”  Dirk says flatly.  “That sounds bad.”  

And then she turns around again to inspect the bottles, leaving Astarion baffled and fuming.  

That should have worked.  She should be flattered! Elated!  And instead she’s just-  Gods.  It’s not as if she knows he thinks she’s disgusting?  Does she?  He’s opening his mouth to say something else but he’s cut off when a clay bottle is shoved directly in his face.

“This sounds like it's full of bees right?  A bee adjacent hex thing?”  Dirk wiggles it, it does sound like it's full of bees.

He considers her as she scurries about, inspecting things like a squirrel.  He’s probably dodged an arrow there.  Back to the drawing board.

“Here.  You can throw it at someone.”  She’s holding it out, practically shoving it at him.  “It’ll probably hurt.”

He takes it, considers it for a moment, then pockets the thing, she’s already turned back to the shelf of earthenware bottles.  Sniffing at them as if she can divine something from scent alone.

[seldomdrawncherubs]

y'know, i've heard some people talk about a '0'th class, called the Waste? like, Waste of [XYZ]. Waste of Space, for example. what it actually IS tends to differ - ranging from 'a totally useless class that literally actually does nothing' to 'a class that utilizes the aspect in broken, un-intended ways outside of Skaia's machinations'. what're your thoughts on the rumors?

uu: IT SHOuLD BE WHAT THE MuSE IS CALLED.

uu: THIS IS AN INSuLT TO MY SISTER.

uu: I PITY THE POOR BASTARD. WHO WOuLD BE ASSIGNED THAT TITLE.

uu: HAHAHEEHEEHOOHOO! I AM JuST. KIDDING.

uu: I DO NOT FEEL ANY SuCH THING. SuCKS TO BE THEM.

***

UU: that soUnds like a crUel joke! sbUrb already gives dirk sUch issUes, and prince of heart is not a bad aspect whatsoever.

UU: maids tend to resent their title. I can only imagine what woUld happen if yoU were labeled Useless by a game larger than fate.

[jarmes]

Harry Anderson’s Father (Homestuck: Beyond Canon Fanfic)

I gaze out upon the festering shithole of a world that lies behind the black hole. At first glance, it is identical to the victory world I left. But, with my heightened senses, I am acutely able to sense the inherent bullshittery that permeates through this planet like a cancer. The planet isn’t real, not completely. It exists as a shitty doodle on the back of reality, something that should not exist but still persists. This world is a hypothetical. It is the universe that would have existed, if I didn’t push John Egbert to restore canon to a functioning state.

Years ago, I briefly existed in this universe. The moment I realized what it was, I did the only sensible thing and killed myself so I didn’t have to spend another second in what was for all intents and purposes a terrible piece of fanfiction. That was a mistake. If I had stayed, I could have stopped the Muse from creating lackluster muppet baby players and sending them to kill me.

This world needs to be destroyed. Not just blown up, but fully erased. Its existence is a stain that makes everything I have built terrible by association. This abomination of a world is so bad it got my comic canceled. 

I pull the lever and release the Tumor. I’m not surprised when it doesn’t fall from my battleship, down to the non-canon version of Earth C and obliterate it. That would be boring.

I march out onto the deck of my battleship. A teenager is standing on the edge, ripping apart the wires in the bombing mechanism’s control panel. He has white hair, with that trademark Lalonde curl and Jake’s bad teeth. John and Roxy’s kid. I don’t know his name, nor do I care to know.

> Be Harry Anderson Egbert

You watch as that Dirk Strider, that terrifying and handsome son of a bitch, marches towards you. He draws his badass katana and you raise your pathetic garden sheers. Your hands tremble as you sense the incredible goddamn menace emanating off the literal God you have decided to fuck with.

HARRY: you’re that guy my mom told me about. the one with the stupid shades.

DIRK: It is a shame that the kids these days do not understand how kickass ironic anime shades are.

HARRY: how do they stay on your face? double-sided tape?

DIRK: There are more important things to discuss than the intricacies of my clothing. Such as, your attempt at disarming my weapon.

HARRY: i’m not going to let you blow up my world and kill everyone.

DIRK: That isn’t really your choice.

Dirk Strider moves so fast you can’t process it. One second, he’s twenty feet away, the next, he has his katana held against your throat. You feel a drop of cold sweat drip down your neck and split apart as it touches the edge of Dirk’s blade.

DIRK: I’m going to explain something very simple to you. You are not a real human being.

DIRK: You are a shadow of a person from a world that should not exist. You canonically do not exist.

DIRK: People who exist get to foil the big bad’s plans. People who exist occasionally get to impact the plot.

DIRK: Unfortunately, you are a drama kid OC from someone’s Tumblr page who is just sentient enough to feel fear.

The sucker punch from John knocks Dirk flat on his ass.

What.

No.

I don’t get taken by surprise anymore. I’m omniscient and fairly close to omnipotent. It should be impossible for someone to get the jump on me, and yet, I have just been walloped by John Egbert. He appeared in front of me and punched me in the face, so hard that I feel my molars coming loose.

He got here using his Retcon powers. I can see the white outline hanging around his silhouette.

HARRY: dad?

JOHN: harry anderson! i’m so proud of you.

JOHN: military sabotage is basically the highest form of prank.

JOHN: i mean your mom would probably be mad about this, but i’m incredibly proud.

HARRY: dad, i’m trying to stop him from killing everyone i’ve ever met. can we please delay the father-son pep talk until after this is over?

JOHN: oh yeah i can do that.

John turns to face me. He’s wearing his God Tier outfit, which hasn’t grown in the two and a half decades he’s been wearing it and is two sizes too small. He looks like an idiot.

JOHN: hi dirk. can you please stop trying to kill my son.

JOHN: and also stop trying to destroy the world while you're at it.

DIRK: You know he isn’t real.

DIRK: His existence, like the existence of every other person on that planet, is paradoxical.

DIRK: You’re from this world, but you are at least a version of a character who existed in canon.

DIRK: Your son doesn’t have that going for him.

JOHN: i know.

The child looks up at his father with confusion. John doesn’t take his gaze off me.

JOHN: so what?

DIRK: What do you mean, so what?

DIRK: This entire universe is a non-canon abomination.

JOHN: i know but i don’t really care, you know?

DIRK: Of course you don’t care. You’re the version of John who abandoned the world and let it decay into a twisted shadow of canon.

DIRK: If you cared, you would have died fighting Lord English.

DIRK: Instead, you created this aberration.

DIRK: This is the universe of dog dicks, clowns sucking on titties, and Vriska 2: Electric Boogaloo.

JOHN: yeah, but it’s also the universe where my son exists.

JOHN: i don’t really get this canon stuff.

JOHN: i mean, everyone tells me that this world isn’t real.

JOHN: and for a long time, i believed that.

JOHN: i stopped spending time with Roxy or Harry Anderson or anyone else because i knew they weren’t real.

JOHN: but i think i was just depressed.

JOHN: i’m better now. i’m not hiding from the world anymore.

JOHN: harry anderson is my son and i love him.

John reaches over and grabs his son, pulling him into a hug. Harry Anderson tries to shove him away, but eventually relents and allows his father to hug him.

I decide I’ve had enough of this sappy horseshit and stab John Egbert in the throat. The blade goes in easily. Too easily. I jump back as John transforms into wind.

He reforms above Dirk and slams his hammer down, smashing a hole in the deck. The dice in the hammer's bubble bounce around. When they land, a dozen horses appear, summoned by magic, and trample Dirk Strider.

HARRY: dad? are you...cool?

I dash forward, slicing John across the chest. As my blade tears through his flesh, a sudden burst of wind knocks Dirk away. John flies forward and smashes his hammer down on Dirk’s skull.

I focus on the bouncing dice. I see in my mind what they must be and it becomes so. Eight dice land with the one facing up. The Pop-a-matic Vrillyhoo Hammer explodes in John’s hand, taking his arm with it. As John clutches his stump, his son attempts to stab me in the back. I easily sidestep him and knock his sheers away with my sword.

Harry’s fist surrounds with black tendrils as he punches me in the stomach. It hurts, more than I expected, but I’ve long since ascended beyond the point where pain affects me. I grab him by the throat and lift him up, crushing his throat with my bare hands. A stab through the skull would have killed him instantly, but it wouldn’t have been cruel enough. After all, I’m the villain. It behooves me to be menacing.

Harry Anderson Egbert scratches at the back of my hand with his fingernails, trying to tear away my iron grasp. He struggles to breathe. An ironic end, for the son of the Heir of Breath. His eyes roll back in his head as he falls unconscious.

A tornado erupts from John Egbert. The spinning blue wind tears the battleship to pieces. Canons and chunks of metal fall down towards Earth C as Drik loses his grip on Harry. John flies forward and slams his hammer into Dirk’s chest.

I get it now. My domination of the narration normally allows me control over the actions of others. Not complete, but enough to guide things towards the necessary outcome. Except, John Egbert hasn’t been bound by canon in years, not since he touched the Ultimate Weapon. I can’t control him.

He slams the hammer into me and my sword slips from my grasp and begins falling towards the planet. John isn’t a fighter. He doesn’t realize how strong he is. His wind is strong enough to tear apart planets and right now 100% of it is concentrated in crushing me into a fine red paste.

Of course, this is exactly what I planned for. John is so distracted on hurting me that he doesn’t pay attention to his son falling down from heaven, abandoned like Icarus after venturing close to the sun. He doesn’t pay attention to my katana as it stabs through the sky. The tornado holding me in place shoots it down like a rocket. I can’t control John, but I can control my sword. I guide it like a missile to its destination in Harry Anderson Egbert’s chest.

JOHN: harry anderson!

John takes his attention off me for the briefest of moments, giving me the time to stab my fingers into his chest. He screams as I grab hold of his heart. Magenta bolts of lightning flow from my hand into John Egbert’s body. The lightning saws through the metaphysical connection points, severing John’s soul from his body. As I tear him apart from the inside, a light breaks through his chest, so bright it would blind me if I wasn’t wearing my kickass anime shades. The light is shaped like a house. The Ultimate Weapon, the source of John’s bullshit retcon powers, hidden away within his body.

John transforms into wind. The wind dives after Harry Anderson as he falls from space. John reforms around his son and cradles him as he slowly descends down to the ground. They land in the middle of a field.

JOHN: it’s okay! it’s going to be okay!

John blubbers like a baby as he cradles the bloody soon-to-be corpse of his brat. The kid tries to say something, but he only gets out gurgles due to the sword in his lung. I decide to be nice and remove it. I appear behind John and, with a single movement, faster than the eye can see, draw the sword from Harry’s body and swing it, cleaving off John Egbert’s head.

Harry crashes down in the grass as John’s body falls over. I hold out my sword and skewer John’s head as it lands, the tip of my blade coming out of his eye. In another plane of existence, a grandfather clock’s pendulum swings between two judgments, Heroic and Just. I put my hand on the scale, forcing John’s death to be heroic.

As I wipe John’s blood from my sword using my cape, I feel the scissors stab me in the back. Damnit. I was distracted by controlling the clock and forgot about Harry. He’s injured, but has his teeth gritted in anger. He clutches a large pair of shears, made out of thin black tendrils. A weapon made out of pure Doom that pokes out of the heart symbol on my shirt, having gone through the black lump of coal that is my actual heart.

Harry Anderson is the Bard of Doom. He’s a destroyer, just like me, and Doom is his weapon. This terrible planet, the insurmountable odds, the hole in his chest, the death of his father, all of these things make him stronger. He concentrates the power of the Candy timeline into his tendrils.

The Doom spreads through my body. My flesh rots away, bit by bit. It feels just like it did when the Stardust consumed me. Before it’s too late, I cut my own head off.

Harry Anderson struggles to breath as he crawls towards his father’s corpse.

HARRY: this is stupid.

HARRY: you don’t talk for me for years and then the first time you actually try and give a shit about me you die.

HARRY: you’re a god. gods don’t die. get up.

HARRY: please.

DIRK: That isn’t going to happen.

I look down upon the injured child, my arms crossed. If it wasn’t such a cliche, I would call him pathetic. I can’t die, not really. I have long since transcended beyond a physical being. I exist as a disembodied consciousness existing outside of any universe, who interacts with others by puppeteering a physical form. It is trivial for me to conjure another body out of nothingness.

I raise my hand into the air. A large ball of energy appears above my palm, growing larger until it blocks out any light from the sun. The death ball I have summoned is made out of pure, concentrated destruction. It will tear apart the souls of this putrid rock and restore the purity it has taken from my canon. And it won’t take twenty goddamn episodes to do so.

I toss the death ball. Harry holds out his hands, firing all of the energy he can muster in a doomed attempt to hold back the ball. He thinks he’s the brave shonen protagonist fighting for his home, but he isn’t. He’s a crappy OC who should have never existed. This isn’t death. It’s a mercy.

Blue wind wraps around the ball of energy. It disappears, pulled out of reality by John’s retcon powers.

Fuck.

I turn around to see John’s corpse hovering five feet off the ground. His head is still gone, but in its place sits a skull made of wind wearing John’s glasses. The light from the Ultimate Weapon is brighter than it has ever been.

John punches himself in the chest. A thousand different copies of his arm appear around Dirk, pummeling his new body to a bloody pulp.

I swing my sword but an arm grabs it and retcons it out of existence.

I hold out my hands and fire my electricity. It begins ripping the Ultimate Weapon out of John’s chest but the lightning stops when another fist hits Dirk in the stomach. John holds his hand out and his wind flies into the portal on his chest.

None of this is happening. I refuse to let it happen and thus it does not. I’m the narrator. That’s why the fucking text is orange.

The wind spreads through the source code of canon, wiping the text color clean.

DIRK: What did you do?

DIRK: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?

The light from the Ultimate Weapon shines on Dirk. He screams as he is dragged in. He appears in an empty white box, where he will remain for a very long time. He pounds on the walls of his cage.

DIRK: LET ME OUT!

DIRK: LET ME OUT!

The thing that defeated Dirk Strider walks over to Harry Anderson Egbert. He waves his hand and his son’s wounds disappear, erased from ever having happened.

JOHN: my father died when I was young.

JOHN: it was really hard on me. i guess it’s gonna be pretty hard on you.

JOHN: and now i’m realizing how much must have sucked that he didn’t get to watch his son grow up.

John fades away into wind and disappears.

HARRY: dad?

No answer comes.

[utsugi-ren]

Classpects as Pokemon Types

Hi this is a thing I've had in my brain for awhile so I decide to let it free <3

Aspect Types:

Breath=Flying Blood=Normal Light=Psychic Void=Dark Doom=Ghost Life=Grass Heart=Normal Mind=Psychic Rage=Dark Hope=Fairy Time=Any type, usually ghost, steel, and fire Space=Any type, usually grass, bug, and water

Class Stuff:

Heir=Purely their aspect type (Unless blood color specifies differently) (eg Egbert would be purely Flying) Witch=Purely their aspect type (Unless blood color specifies differently) (Eg Feferi WOULD be pure grass but because she's a sea dweller she'd be water/grass) Knight-Secondary type is fighting (Eg Karkat would be Normal/Fighting) Page=Primary type is normal (Eg Tavros would be normal/flying) Seer=Secondary type is psychic (eg Kankri would be Normal/Psychic) Mage=Primary type is psychic (eg Sollux would be Psychic/Ghost) Rogue=Doesn't have aspect type (eg Roxy wouldn't be a dark type) Thief=Secondary aspect type (Eg Vriska would be bug/psychic) Prince=Primary type is something that's good against their aspect type (eg Dirk would be fighting/steel because fighting is good against normal) Bard=Primary type is something bad against their aspect type (eg Gamzee would be Psychic/Poison since psychic is weak to dark type) Maid=Purely their aspect type (Unless blood color specifics differently) (eg Jane would be pure grass) Sylph=Secondary type is fairy (eg Kanaya would be bug/fairy)

Blood type stuff (Unless overwritten by class typing):

Gold (if they have psiionics)=Seconday type would be electric Violet=Secondary type is water Fuschia=Primary type is water

Other stuff: Lords and Muses are legendary pokemon

Uhhh I think that's it, so like. Here's the main 22 as pokemon types!

Egbert=Flying Rose=Psychic Dave=Fire/Fighting Jade=Grass Jane=Grass Roxy=Psychic Dirk=Fighting/Steel Jake=Normal/Fairy Aradia=Ghost Tavros=Normal/Flying Sollux=Psychic/Ghost Karkat=Normal/Fighting Nepeta=Dark Kanaya=Bug/Fairy Terezi=Psychic Vriska=Bug/Psychic Equius=Dark Gamzee=Psychic/Poison Eridan=Poison/Water Feferi=Water/Grass Caliborn=Fire/Steel Calliope=Bug/Grass

[videcoeur]

i could see you writing gild tesoro or golden lion shiki from one piece! i think you could pull off writing doc scratch, lord english, or any of the midnight crew members as well

Fun fact I tried and roleplayed (almost) all of these characters!

ONE PIECE

I tried Gild Tesoro and could never really get him going like I wanted, unfortunately. I write Carina from film gold though!

I haven't watched the movie in forever but I never got that much interested in Shiki. I don't think I'd be any good roleplaying him! I'd probably have to rewatch the movie to see if I could get interested because I don't remember much of him tbh

HOMESTUCK

I also used to write Doc Scratch in the past, but had too many bad encounters rp wise to pick him up ever again. You wouldn't believe the amount of Rose players wanting a piece of him. I do not have fond memories of my time roleplaying Doc Scratch, except for one really amazing Handmaid I used to write with. when she left, I just lost all motivation because she was genuinely the only rper I enjoyed playing Scratch against.

I also wrote Lord English, and for similar reasons as Scratch, gave up on him. The reason being too many people wanting to play the kids against him in a not so safe scenario. Tumblr was a lot wilder 12 years ago. Not a good thing.

As for midnight crew, I played them all, but specially Spades Slick in both AU and canon version, Diamond Droogs, and Kingpin. I played deuce and boxcars too, but I favored the other 3.

If you think a homestuck character, whether it's a felt (snowman my beloved), midnight crew, or troll, I probably played it. The only homestuck characters I didn't play are the kids, with exception of Bro Strider if he counts. Any others I might have played (I think I tried Dirk once) hasn't lasted more than a month on any of my rosters.

Anyway, homestuck. Had 32 blogs at some point, 20 of which were iterations of Sollux or The Grand Highblood/Dualscar. I was obsessed with them. Lost interest in Sollux though, but if you look at my blog, you'll still see GHB and Dualscar on the list lmao. Haven't roleplayed them in forever but I cannot give up on them. They're dear to me. GHB and Dualscar were my first homestuck muses hehe

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Cut out the reblogs for length, I'll try to quote you so people have context to what I'm replying to but stuff is going to get lost so I'm sorry about that

I absolutely did not agree with the idea that it devalued the characters we'd been following the whole time because of the levels of meta involved.

I also don't think that the "meta"-ness of the retcon was the problem. Homestuck is a postmodern work, and thus, meta commentary is inextricably woven into the story from the very beginning, all the way through to the end. The problem I have with the ending actually has nothing to do with how "meta" it is. It's about how character arcs - which are ongoing even through Act 6, right up until post-Game Over - get randomly discarded en masse, which is completely inconsistent with the ENTIRE story up until that point. Karkat and Jake are the big offenders, but, for example, Dave never really resolves his hangups about not wanting to kill LE and then is suddenly just doing it, Davesprite's problems are all fixed by being combined with Nepetasprite, and Rose's alcoholism is solved by Vriska knocking a glass out of her hand. Kanaya's bad habit of completely disregarding, and even bullying/trying to kill people she doesn't like is also never touched on, and it's not like Dirk, Jane, or Roxy ever properly resolved their bullshit either.

But when the comic multiple times looks directly at the audience and says "nah man character arcs are bogus people are just people," it makes sense to think that maybe Hussie wasn't really clear on where he wanted every character to go by the end of the story.

Okay, so... when the characters are doing this prior to the retcon, it is because their character arcs are ONGOING and they are still struggling with their place in the world and what it means to be a hero, Dave especially. Much of the early comic, with Vriska and John, sets up how they kind of "cheated" their way into god-tier, or otherwise fell ass-first into it, and they muse on the implications of taking shortcuts, and whether that was detrimental to them. Given that god tiering is a metaphor for adulthood - a semi-permanent state to be reached at the end of the coming-of-age that SBURB/SGRUB is, this basically sets the tone that Vriska, and all of the kids, "grew up too fast," without having proper time to examine the circumstances that led them to god-tiering or resolving their childhood hangups.

This is ESPECIALLY true for Rose and Dave, who muse the most about their arcs and their storylines - Rose discussing whether or not it's even worth it to do her planetary quest, or if it was calibrated for a 13 year old girl and wouldn't be relevant to her anymore, and Dave's constant refusal of the call and duty to slay Lord English. What I'm saying is, the reason these characters are refuting their arcs pre-retcon is because they're still in the middle of grappling with said arcs.

Rose has ALWAYS wanted to be taken more seriously and more grown-up than she actually is. This fuels much of her arrogance in the early story, her desire to subvert the path SBURB has laid out for her, and allows Doc Scratch (the creepy uncle) to manipulate her. This also fuels her alcoholism - not only is drinking a very Adult thing to be doing, but because Rose spent so much time trying to be Better and More Mature than her whimsical mother, she wound up missing out on having a loving relationship with her, and now she's trying to reconnect with her via alcohol. Her musings about doing her planetary quests now happen as a direct consequence of the alcoholism nearly wrecking her life:

ROSE: I wonder if our young parents are like this? ROSE: I wonder if I will ever find out? ROSE: And what should I do in the meantime? ROSE: Should I... ROSE: Should I really work on completing my personal planetary quest? ROSE: That whole thing where I learn to "play the rain?" ROSE: I guess I should feel exhilarated to have the chance again after all these years. ROSE: Of course I should. ROSE: But then, ROSE: Why does it sound like such a drag? ROSE: I haven't played the violin in a long time. ROSE: I wonder if I even remember how. ROSE: Honestly I can't recall ever feeling less motivated to satisfy a looming obligation. ROSE: I think my quest was fundamentally bound to the nature of this land, which was customized to the profile, needs, and potential for growth of a thirteen year-old girl. ROSE: But I'm not that person anymore. ROSE: What if I ROSE: What if I just ROSE: Didn't bother doing it? ROSE: Like, ever? ROSE: Would anyone notice my dereliction? ROSE: Would the powers that be strike me down where I loaf? ROSE: What if I just said fuck it? ROSE: What then, silly pink tortoise shells? Hmmmm?? ROSE: ROSE: I guess I should stop procrastinating and have This Conversation with Kanaya.

The text at this point is NOT saying, "yeah man, character arcs are bogus and people are just people." It's saying, "I know I messed up somewhere, that I failed to resolve my problems, but I don't know if the advice and guidance I could've gotten when I was younger would even help me now." And here's the other thing: SHE SHOULD BE DOING HER QUEST.

We know this because John attaining the enlightenment needed to fully harness his retcon abilities is the direct result of finishing his quest. The quests remain relevant and helpful even now that they're older - in fact, Skaia/SBURB is outright stated to be sapient and omniscient, so it's actually implied that it will modify things on-the-fly to account for its players' decisions and current states of mind. LE's existence and actions are described as "sanctioned by paradox space," that is to say, paradox space has already accounted for his existence AND his defeat, which includes John's retcon powers - which is why John's quest is literally tied to said powers, and always has been.

What Rose doesn't realize - and apparently the audience doesn't realize, either - is that she's very much STILL IN THE GAME. Her planetary quest has likely already accounted for the fact that she'll be older and wiser when she finally gets around to it. Her arc has not stopped. It is currently ongoing, and questioning whether she should do the hard, gruelling, unfun, uncomfortable work of examining herself and fixing her unresolved childhood problems is part of her arc.

Rose outright likens not doing it to "loafing." This is especially true in the context of the Dancestors, who represent failing at growing up and maturing as hard as you possibly can, with so many of their problems directly stemming from NOT engaging with their mythological roles or responsibilities - Porrim ignoring frog breeding and Meenah's Entire Backstory. More on the dancestors and LE later, but I'm just going to mention here that the take that they only exist to mock the fandom is INCREDIBLY reductive and COMPLETELY misses the point. The Dancestors represent the game's Fail State - their actions are meant to be the OPPOSITE of aspirational.

So let's look at Dave, the other guy who spends the most time complaining about his arc pre-retcon. His baggage, I think, is a little more obvious than Rose's, because he was one of the few characters that actually got to talk about it post-retcon. He spent his childhood being tormented and abused by his older brother, under the guise of making him "stronger," and he spends much of the early comic defending his brother's actions and looking up to him as an ideal to achieve. Moreover, their living conditions were abysmal, and it was implied Dave had to be very careful even just to get food to eat. Thus, while Rose was obsessed with being more adult than she actually was, Dave was thrust into self-sufficiency - forced to grow up too fast.

And his planetary quest seems to mirror the expectations his brother placed on him - Dave is meant to reforge a broken blade and use it to kill LE.

DAVE: i mean DAVE: i think i might be "supposed" to kill him anyway? #air quotes DAVE: thats the feeling i get like there are all these clues about that ive kinda noticed #remember that bullshit about the pimp being in the crib? #hahaha oh god DAVE: so if i am THE GUY that needs to take him down then fine ill do that if and when i get hornswoggled into some big showdown with a ridiculous green space pimp or whatever he is #i heard he has a gold tooth #are you fuckin kidding me DAVE: i dont know i think im not really cut out for the whole reluctant hero shtick #im better at comics DAVE: like the whole scene is so obvious and trite and i cant even tell if my reluctance is ironic or if im playing it straight #reluctant before it was cool #and before i was willing DAVE: like ill wonder if im being reluctant enough to cut it or if im actually just being reluctant to be reluctant #how reluctant do you even have to BE to DOOOOO something like etc etc #sbahj DAVE: it turns into like meta reluctance and then all i can think about is how fucking stupid the whole thing is  #i also think about puppets sometimes… #unrelated DAVE: i think im probably just too self aware for this hero bullshit so dont even waste your time on me #ironic self pity

And again, we know that the end point of his reluctance is that he does need to complete this quest, because he DOES complete the quest - either when he kills Jack English with Caledfwch, or when he and the beta kids land the final blow on LE in the dream bubbles when the treasure is deployed.

In fact, maybe one his biggest moments of refusing the call is when he's talking to Grimbark Jade about this exact situation after they alchemize Caledfwch.

DAVE: the empress can suck it DAVE: i have no intention of fighting him DAVE: and this isnt even me pulling more lame self aware reluctant hero junk DAVE: i am just straight up not going to do it DAVE: see thats not reluctance its just petulant refusal on my part DAVE: reluctant hero shit is when the guys like aw shucks i dunno if i wanna but deep down we all know he really does DAVE: but i really dont DAVE: why should i DAVE: i dont give a damn about lord english or his nebulous atrocities out in nowherespace DAVE: what kind of villain is someone you never met who hardly did anything evil to you or your friends directly DAVE: or even to anyone in your universe for that matter other than through some vague insidious influence DAVE: who even is this guy and why should i hate him DAVE: am i really supposed to be pissed off at a green muscle monster i never met DAVE: cause i aint pissed off at no muscle monster DAVE: hell wasnt he in some ass backwards way responsible for us existing in the first place? DAVE: or all of humanity for that matter?? DAVE: maybe i should thank him before chopping him up via welshscalibur

But it's important to put this in its proper context: right before he has this conversation with Jade, he's looking through his old bedroom, soliloquizing about his old interests and looking through his old selfies, which causes him to laugh so hard he breaks down crying.

The context is, Dave spent 3 years on a meteor emotionally alone - Karkat hated his rap and would constantly tell him so, Kanaya and Rose didn't care, and he rejected Terezi and she started hatedating Gamzee. Moreover, he spent those three years not being able to help anyone. Rose became an alcoholic and started having relationship problems with Kanaya; Terezi's relationship was incredibly toxic. One of the big hangups he complains about to Grimbark!Jade is that he was helping her with the frog quest knowing the entire time that he would have to die and leave her alone - it's safe to say that the fact that so much bad stuff seems inevitable to him as a time player is weighing heavily on his shoulders.

The reason he has such a strong emotional reaction to his old selfies is because they represent an innocence, hope, and joy that he's lost. Much of this sequence is him thinking about what could have been and interests he forgot he had. In other words, at the point of time where Dave is saying he refuses to fight LE is when he has depression. It's not meant to be a good thing! It's not meant to be a profound statement on how people are people and don't have arcs! It's meant to show that Dave is going through it, so mired in his personal hangups, his depression, and his unresolved childhood trauma, that he's literally refusing to make their situation better.

He is literally incorrect about LE having done nothing directly to them - he WATCHED his dead friends getting double killed in the dream bubbles. Moreover, boiling LE's influence on the story and its events to nothing more than "a sinister influence" is a nutso take for him to have when that encompasses things like the Condesce being in the humans' sessions, every manipulation Doc Scratch performed, and even parts of his own abuse, as his older brother was being influenced by LE inside of Lil' Cal (sure, he doesn't know about these, but that's dramatic irony - we, the audience, are supposed to know that he's full of shit because LE has done WAY MORE than just ominously hang around in the background). By saying he thinks he should thank LE for bringing them into creation, he is functionally saying that he thinks maybe he should thank his abuser for abusing him - we are NOT supposed to agree with Dave here! This is supposed to be Dave's lowest point!

And at least part of Dave's hangups about killing LE like he's "supposed to" are displaced feelings he has towards the way his brother treated him. He has had expectations on his shoulders for his entire life, and he secretly always resented that. Now that he's once more being forcibly pulled into the line of duty, this time by Grimbark!Jade, he's going Fuck that!

But that's the setup for his arc, which he's still on. It's about processing the abuse he suffered and then choosing to better his situation. It's about taking up the sword not because the SBURB is telling him that he should, but taking it up because it will make life better.

Dave is under the impression that he's supposed to be an archetypal reluctant hero - someone who pretends like they don't want to do the big heroics, but secretly wants to deep down, and he thinks he's failed to live up to this. He genuinely doesn't want to take up the blade and confront LE. But that's because Dave is wrong about what his arc is supposed to be - making things better, and fixing your problems, is hard. Choosing to improve the world instead of letting it stay rotten is hard. It's unpleasant, boring, and unfun. But it should still be done. He CAN regain the joy and hope that he lost - he just has to make the hard choice, and do the hard work. He has to understand what parts of his childhood were cruel and unfair, and what things in his present day seem cruel and unfair, but are actually helpful and useful to him, and choose to pursue them even if he doesn't want to because it will make his life better.

[Hussie] definitely knew where they wanted the plot to go by the end, even if they fell victim to the same shit all long-running media creators face when they realize how fucking huge their narrative has gotten. I think Game Over and the retcon were, in a way, a response to Hussie believing they'd written themselves into a corner.

I agree that a large part of the post-Game Over story truncation was driven by the fact that they realized how much more writing they would have to do before they could achieve their original intended and set up ending. I'm glad that we agree that there was originally another ending planned.

However, I am going to disagree about Game Over and the Retcon being a means of escaping a corner. I believe that these elements were always intended, for several reasons:

First, because a horrible ending like Game Over actually fits perfectly into the story that was set up prior. Caliborn outright talks about how he set up the circumstances of his own defeat - and if it's Caliborn doing the setting up, then of course he'd create a situation where everybody loses!

We even see in the retcon that the characters from the Game Over timeline still exist, now with (parentheses) around their names. This means that the Game Over crew, who are now dead and in the dream bubbles, are now in position to fight and defeat LE. Thus, the story Caliborn has written for everyone is one where, yes, he is ultimately defeated, BUT it comes at the expense of everyone else dying and being screwed over, too.

So then, the retcon. It does NOT come out of nowhere as a means for Hussie to write themselves out of a corner - the retcon powers are actually a natural final culmination of John's arc as a well-meaning guy who's everybody's friend, and, perhaps more damningly, as a player of Breath.

Blood and Breath are matched pairs - if Blood is about bonds and connections, then Breath is about FREEDOM and CHOICES. Let's not forget that everything to do with LE has been sanctioned by paradox space, and, thus, is accounted for by the sapience of SBURB. And this includes granting the most fully-realized Breath player, who never gave up on his friends and never stopped wanting the best for them, the literal ability to CHOOSE A NEW FUTURE, unbound by the machinations of LE and his control over which timeline is the alpha. Because, let's not forget, the actual definition of the alpha timeline is "the timeline that leads to LE's arrival." The story has always set up that its happy ending would be one where that outcome is refuted.

And finally, there are elements that survived into the post-retcon story that appear to take cues from this setup of the Game Over crew still having arcs and adventures in the dream bubbles after dying, while the post-retcon crew are assembling and finishing their character development. The most glaring are the dangling plot threads, but there's also shit like the Ultimate Self that Davepetasprite^2 talks about, which seems like it's a way to turn the tragedy of the Game Over cast dying and staying dead into something bittersweet instead - it means that eventually, as every surviving character achieves ultimate selfhood, this will include their memories of being their Game Over iterations, so those sacrifices don't remain forgotten.

It also would mean that Lord English is defeated exclusively by dead and (irrelevant) characters while inside the dream bubbles - symbolically rendering him "nothing more than a bad dream." This 1:1 mirrors the existence godtier!Calliope:

CALLIOPE: you don't need to do anything. CALLIOPE: be who you've become, and who i didn't. CALLIOPE: consume the fruits of an existence i could never understand. CALLIOPE: live.

Those that were most screwed over by LE's existence get the satisfaction of being the ones to pummel his face in. And, by taking on that responsibility, that sacrifice, the surviving characters post-retcon are able to live - happy, together, and free.

And, here's the thing. If Hussie wanted to bring everyone who was dead back? That's what the retcon would've been there for. It was the perfect opportunity to have John pop in between all of the major fights and stop a few murders. Even if you want to argue that Terezi wouldn't have thought of that, there were absolutely no rules on that shit.

Yes. This is actually why I am arguing that that was the original plan and then it was discarded. It literally makes no sense that Karkat, who has spent the entire meteor ride complaining about missing his dead friends, whose aspect is blood, which governs bonds (such as friendship), is sitting there with MULTIPLE means of resurrecting his friends and NOT SAYING ANYTHING.

Because it's so WILDLY out of character for this to happen, it seems much more likely to me that not bringing back the dead assholes is author fiat, as it's a decision that can't be justified in-universe. I'm glad that we agree that the retcon existed as a way to bring everybody back.

This is the comic that created 10-12 caricatures of fandom culture meant to be as annoying as possible and whose main villain is a screaming tween at a computer.

I am going to outright tell you that the - apparently common - fandom take that the dancestors Only Exist To Spite The Fandom is completely untrue. There are elements there that do serve as parodies of the worst parts of the fandom, but the dancestors are incredibly thematically relevant AND fill in a lot of backstory (it's heavily implied that the dancestors cringefailing so hard literally gave rise to LE). I go very in-depth on that here - it's a whole essay on its own - but reducing them to "Hussie was mean to the audience" and LE/Caliborn to a "screaming tween at a computer" completely misses the point.

The dancestors and LE are shallow and immature - you've correctly identified that - but think about it in the context of Homestuck's broader themes. It's a coming of age. Hussie outright says it's always been about maturing and growing up.

And thusly, the main villain is a child who stunted his own growth and completely refused to engage with the SBURB's usual coming-of-age stuff by murdering his co-player before it could begin. The dancestors, who either gave LE entry into their universe, or even caused LE to be created in the first place, got to that point by being so shitty and immature to each other that they reached physical adulthood without managing to fix even a SINGLE emotional problem or interpersonal issue between them. If the story is about how kids should grow up, mature, and be kind to one another, then the dancestors and LE represent children who physically grew up but emotionally remained the same, who were immature, and who were CRUEL to each other. They could hardly BE better antagonists for this specific story, so diametrically they are opposed to its fundamental themes.

You can still choose to believe what you believe - end of the day, sometimes we must agree to disagree - but it does seem kind of odd that you bring up so many points in favor of much more being set up than Hussie was able to execute, only to then argue that they didn't have any grand plans set up. I think you might want to try re-examining your own arguments.

Murder, Love, and Destiny: An Eridan Ampora Character Study

Warnings for things from Homestuck, like discussions of child abuse, mental illness, murder, suicide, etc. etc.

Because there's a huge wall of text after this point, I'm going to summarize what I hope to convince you of in bullet point format, and then hope you'll actually read the rest of the text before arguing with me about it.

Eridan is the least casteist highblood, if you ignore all the slurs.

Those are his emotional support slurs.

Pale EriKar was not only canon, but set up to be endgame.

Eridan is incredibly plot-relevant, thematically relevant, and was definitely originally intended to be brought back to life, alongside the other dead trolls.

He's Sad.

The first thing we have to establish is what counts as "canon" for the purpose of this essay. I am only counting the original comic up to Game Over, after which there's a general consensus that Hussie kind of gave up on his original planned ending, and slapped together something that most people hate. So I am immediately disqualifying Pesterquest, supplementary material, fanworks deemed canon, the epilogues, and Homestuck^2.

Moreover, we are taking Hussie's commentaries with a grain of salt, for two reasons. The first reason is that I firmly believe - and will be arguing - that the original plan was to bring Eridan (and the other dead trolls) back; therefore, Hussie (who has a track record of playing coy with future plot twists) can't speak too fondly of him, lest he give it away. The second reason for de-emphasizing Hussie's words is that, post-retcon, Hussie isn't very well going to say that he had plans for a better ending, and then didn't execute on them; to save face, he has to act as though his trashing of several prior plot threads, including but not limited to Eridan, was the plan all along.

Therefore, this essay will not be putting too much emphasis on Word of God, and will instead be relying on textual evidence from the comic itself, of which there is plenty. So without further ado:

Eridan is a Consummate Murderer.

The reason I'm starting with this point is that, far more than any other, this truth lies at the core of his being. Eridan is formally introduced to us with a murder, and he's haunted by an overpowering genocide complex. He outright describes to Rose at one point that "killin is all i evver done practically," and uses "murder" as an expletive (ie "swweet stinkin murder"). With a conservative estimate of 5 kills per week for 4 sweeps (Vriska looks VERY young when she has to start killing, and Eridan was likely a similar age when he began), both Eridan and Vriska easily have bodycounts above 2000 - the real number is probably even higher.

At this point, many raise an objection that Eridan is only killing lusii, but I believe we need to count his kills as troll murders, for three reasons: first, a dead lusus results in the orphaned troll being culled; second, one has to assume he has had cases of trolls trying to defend their lusii, or coming after him for vengeance; and third - and most importantly - Eridan HIMSELF is thinking about the orphaned trolls.

Compare Feferi: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. At least until she dies.

To Eridan: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. And make a freshly orphaned troll somewhere very sad.

So Eridan, to a much greater extent than even Feferi, is thinking about the orphaned trolls he's leaving behind, and considers his own actions to be murder.

Now that we've established the facts regarding his murders - a rough bodycount, and the fact that, by his own admission, he barely had any hobbies outside of it - we can move on to the effect that it's had on him. It's not very good!

Vriska's manipul8tions and murders had to be done for her own sake - if she ever stopped, she died. Therefore, much of Vriska's personality revolves around justifying her own actions so she doesn't have to reckon with her softer feelings, like guilt or kindness - which she expresses would be viewed as scandalous by others of her caste.

But if Eridan ever stops feeding Gl'bgolyb, everybody dies. The stakes he has riding on his shoulders are, at all times, the fate of all trolls, including all his friends. Given Dualscar's title was "Orphaner," it's implied that killing lusii for Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's duty, and is seen as such by the others, which is why nobody expresses gratitude for his hard work even a single time.

Which brings us to our next point:

Eridan is Crushed by Anxiety.

If Eridan stops killing lusii, everybody - especially his friends, but everybody else, too - dies.

If Eridan ever shows guilt or kindness, he'll be considered "weak" by the standards of highbloods - he shares this with Vriska.

Eridan is expected, by aristocratic tradition, to take on the mantle of his ancestor Dualscar and finish his work. Dualscar met a comedically cringefail end, so this is a massive undertaking.

Before finding out that god tiering is an option - so, for nearly his entire life - Eridan has had to live with the expectation that he will outlive all of his friends. The lowbloods from culling or dying on the battlefield, the highbloods from old age, and Feferi from being killed by the Empress when she gets old enough.

(This is reflected in who he talks to the most - Feferi, who's the only one with a natural lifespan longer than his, Vriska, who's a highblood, Kanaya, who's practically guaranteed to survive into adulthood, and Karkat, whose anonblood allows Eridan to give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Also if he can't land his concupiscent quadrants he'll die from that too, but that seems pretty secondary to the rest of his concerns.

He can't even make friends with the other highbloods, because sea dwellers are expected to hate and antagonize them.

He had a free ticket into adulthood, but would almost certainly be expected to join the army and serve as a commander. That is to say, his fate of performing the role of a vicious, murderous sea dweller seems dreadfully inevitable to him.

NO WONDER he can't stop having emotional breakdowns. NO WONDER his chatlogs swing wildly from relentless self-aggrandizement to traumadumping. NO WONDER he's obsessed with murder and death and genocide.

Doc Scratch calls him a "vengeful boy on the path of nihilism," and it's not hard to see why: Eridan's entire life has been about living up to the role imposed on him by society, sacrificing his own time and sanity for everyone else, which he "nevver got any appreciation for anywway." And all he had to look forward to was more of the same, all his friends dropping dead one by one before him. For Eridan, there has never been any hope.

SGRUB could have been a way out for him, but a combination of his own terrible choices, spurred on by his anxieties, and his teammates' unwillingness to knock some sense into him, meant that he only wound up mired even deeper in his hopelessness.

We all know about how Eridan wouldn't stop killing the angels on his planet, provoking their aggression and turning it into a ball of death. How he was definitely not supposed to be doing this, and how his stubborn insistence on it led to his further ostracization from the rest of the group. The thing is, when we look at his angel-murders from the point of view that Eridan's entire life has been about murdering things or else Something Bad™ happens, it actually starts to become... kind of sad.

KARKAT: BETWEEN A TRIGGERHAPPY PRINCE WITH A GOD WEAPON BLASTING ANYTHING THAT TWITCHED AND A MILLION CRAZED ANGELS HE DELIBERATELY ENRAGED, IT WASN'T WHAT I'D CALL AN IDEAL SOCIAL HUB. KARKAT: IF YOU WERE LONELY WHY DIDN'T YOU VENTURE OUT MORE OFTEN? ERIDAN: wwell i wwoulda but nobody else wwas vvolunteerin to pick up the slack on angel killin duties

Killing the angels is something he feels like his has to do, because his entire life has been about killing things he doesn't want to kill. He's unable to break out of that mindset on his own, and his unpleasant personality has scared off anyone who might want to help. No one on the team tries to understand his thought process on a deeper level, not even Karkat, who just tells him it was an idiotic thing to do without addressing his underlying anxieties at all. Indeed, "nobody understands."

And this is really the root of why I think so many people get the wrong read on Eridan - Eridan is constantly contradicting himself, constantly denying his own feelings, constantly pushing an image that he doesn't actually believe in, and constantly insisting that he's fine with all the horrible shit in his life - that he likes it, even. After all, he can't admit to his guilt for his murders, or how much he doesn't want to watch his friends die, or how scared he is about the future - that'd be weakness!

CC: I can't look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

You see his contradictory nature with his stated love of history, which he only ever offhandedly mentions - because he's not actually that interested in history, it's just something that's expected of someone of his station. And you see it with his wavy accent, which he himself calls "weird" and drops when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. And you see it with his dumbass outfit, which is very clearly an imitation of Dualscar (with the only exception being the wizard-ass scarf, because wizards are his actual interest. I don't believe he likes fashion. I genuinely believe - and Eridan himself says so - that he basically has no hobbies outside of murder).

Even being proud to be a sea dweller is pretty much an outright lie:

CC: You can't )(ave t)(e sort of affinity for "our kind" t)(at you profess if you've only spent, w)(at... CC: A few days underwater, maybe? IN YOUR W)(OL-E LIF-E!

One that he tells because he's SCARED OF THE OCEAN. Because he knows what lives in the ocean, because he's been feeding it his entire life. I see a lot of people who give Eridan an interest in marine life, and I'm telling you, that's just got no basis in canon. He's fucking TERRIFIED of the sea.

And for that matter, land dweller genocide. Eridan doesn't want to do it. Both Feferi AND his internal narration call him out for not actually wanting to do it. He outright states he wouldn't kill his friends.

CA: wwell CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be

But he feels like he HAS to want it, HAS to believe in it, HAS to be talking about it constantly, because that's what's expected from him as a sea dweller, and a sea dweller is ALL that he will get to be. The mutation that puts a violet streak in his hair is damning. It's a fate he feels like he can't escape. Which brings us to:

Eridan is Not Actually Casteist, Well He Is But Not Like That, It's Complicated

Secondary title: Those Are His Emotional Support Slurs, Okay

In the exact same vein (haha) as secretly not wanting all the land dwellers dead, Eridan also genuinely doesn't feel like he's better than lower blood castes. Vriska and Equius obviously put quite a bit of stock into being nobility, and both have acted superior to Karkat for it. Feferi actually revels in her high status, and while she is genuinely well-meaning, she's not as interested in abolishing casteism as she is in changing the meaning of "culling" specifically (the hemocaste, aristocracy, and casteism still very much exist in a Beforus under her rule). Gamzee MIGHT be the only highblood less casteist than Eridan, but then again, as soon as he snaps, he does say a lot of casteist stuff to Equius, although it's unclear how serious he is, and he also proceeds to get really into his weird highblood clown cult.

Meanwhile, Eridan - despite all his slurs and talk of genocide - does not actually try to "pull rank" on a lowblood for being a lower caste than him with a single exception. That exception is Sollux... after he's already shown having entirely caste-neutral opinions on Sollux:

CC: But Sollux finally came t)(roug)(, and now I believe t)(e full c)(ain is complete! CA: man that guy CA: hes a fuckin drama machine it is fuckin pathetic CC: YOUR STUPID FIS)(Y FAC-E IS T)(-E DRAMA MAC)(IN-E T)(AT DO-ES NOT)(ING BUT W)(IN-E AND GLUB. CC: 38P CA: fuck SORRY CC: Anyway you s)(ouldn't say t)(at about )(im, )(e is a )(ero and )(e saved my life. CA: yeah sorry

CA: my feelins seem petty and meaninless noww CA: she had better things to wworry about than my ovverwwrought bullshit CA: like the dead guy wwho savved her CA: so forget it thanks anywway

It's only AFTER he's mad at Sollux for dating Feferi that he starts going in on Sollux with casteist rhetoric... which is treated as unrequited flirting and not serious casteism:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)(at you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspisticize between you two, and pull us out of our quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

THEY don't even think he's being casteist.

In fact, directly contradicting this earlier argument he has with Feferi:

CC: T)(is is t)(e last time I will say t)(is. CC: W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!! CC: GLUB. >38( CA: pshh CA: hemospectrum begs to differ

He OUTRIGHT states his real feelings here:

CA: im the biggest fuckin idiot who ever lived CA: i cant BELIEVE i just opened up to you like a chump when i knew what was comin CA: i am one sad fuckin brinesucker CA: overemotional sappy trash youre right im not better than anybody CA: im worse than anybody CA: EVERYBODY CA: all the bodies

So the question of "is Eridan casteist" has an answer of "kind of, but also no." Eridan DOES espouse the rhetoric; he's constantly saying stuff that a casteist sea dweller "should" be saying. However, if you look at his ACTIONS, and the way he actually treats people, he doesn't actually care about blood color. He'll hit on anybody, and he's rude as fuck to everybody. The real problem with him is that he's terrible to talk to, not that he's discriminatory.

That's the thing about Eridan. Understanding him means looking past the way he presents himself, the lies he tells to himself, and even, at times, the way the narration presents him. His "overblown emotional theatrics" seem a lot less overblown when his problems ARE so real, deep-seated, and constantly causing him an unimaginable amount of anguish.

The problem is, the main people he has to bounce those problems against are Feferi, Vriska, and Kanaya, three of the people most comfortable with their privileged positions, for whom Eridan's genuine emotional distress seems like needless melodrama. Feferi loves being a princess, Vriska enjoys her noble privileges, Kanaya doesn't need to worry about culling. But for Eridan, his noble status, and the duties and expectations placed on him for it, have caused him nothing but pain - of course he would feel like nobody understands. Most of his closest friends genuinely don't, nor do they try to.

Because that's what he is at his core - a traumatized fucking child, who doesn't see any way out. Eridan is not a casteist genocidal sea dweller... he just wishes he was one, and tries to be one, because if he actually was one, he wouldn't feel so awful and scared and sad all the time. He'd be normal, like his friends.

The reason he constantly spouts anti-land dweller rhetoric and uses casteist language is to assuage this cognitive dissonance. That's why he has to come off so strong, present himself in such an aggrandized way, act like such a douchebag. They're his emotional support slurs. He doesn't actually believe what he says, which means he's a Bad Sea Dweller, which means he's Failing, which means Something Bad Will Happen, so he'd better get his ass in line and say something casteist!

And it's all made worse because:

Eridan is Dumb of Ass (and True of Word)

Oh my god you guys he's so stupid that it hurts.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. Eridan is clearly well-educated and book smart; he has some of the most elegant prose out of the trolls, and he's prone to going off on insane rants with it. (Actually, his language gets more flowery and showy when he's trying to impress a stranger, and gets progressively more laid back, chill, and even kind of "bro"-y when he starts talking to people he doesn't feel like he needs to impress.)

CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

What I mean is this: his brain is so full of anxiety and cognitive dissonance and murder and death that he struggles to care about other people, which has devastating effects on his social skills. I go really in-depth on how his though process informs his behavior here. The question may have popped up in your mind already: if his casteism stuff isn't actually real, then what is Eridan actually like? The answer is, overwhelmingly, and discomfortingly, SINCERE.

This boy is gunning at 100% emotional earnestness 100% of the time, and it's deeply uncomfortable for others to deal with. He'll swing wildly from insults and derogatory language, to stating a desire to kill all land dwellers, to awe and amazement at his friends' prowess, to demanding that they do things for him, to traumadumping and venting, without missing a beat. Often in the same conversation.

CA: kan its hard GA: What CA: being a kid and growwing up CA: its hard and nobody understands

He's also specifically terrible at parsing hostility. Functionally, he interprets all hostility aimed AT him as either pitch/ashen flirting or "ironic repartee," and similarly views his own hostile words as verbal jousting, pitch/ashen advances, or even just factual descriptions of the world around him (ie calling Nepeta a "kittycat shipper cavve girl"). Hostility and aggression are just kind of his baseline, default state of being, and he basically has no ability to differentiate between good and bad attention. I talk more in-depth about his emotionally bereft upbringing (and shitty lusus) here, but suffice to say that our boy isn't getting any emotional support at home, and as a result, craves attention, no matter what kind.

This also means he's insanely gullible. For example, Rose calls him an idiot to his face, and then blows up his computer, sarcastically calling it "your first lesson in showmanship." Eridan proceeds to literally considers it that, blowing up Jade's computer after he's done talking to her. Furthermore, Kanaya sees him as a burden, insults him to his face, and pretty much just bullies him along with Rose for fun.

So she trains Eridan to become a powerful white wizard of hope to challenge her, as a joke.

And yet, in spite of all that, Eridan still has nothing but gratitude and praise for Kanaya:

ERIDAN: kan i been meanin to thank you KANAYA: For What ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help KANAYA: But I Didnt Even Really Train You I Just Made You A Wand ERIDAN: yeah wwell thats all i needed i guess ERIDAN: i just needed for someone to showw a little faith in me so im sayin thanks i owwe ya KANAYA: Okay Then Youre Welcome KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic ERIDAN: wwhat KANAYA: The Thing I Just Said KANAYA: I Didnt Even Realize How Sarcastic I Was Being Its Starting To Become A Problem I Think KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

Like, he's in the middle of genuinely thanking her for believing in him, she makes fun of him to his face, and his response is to laugh it off and offer to teach her how to properly insult someone. It's honestly... kind of sad. Not that he doesn't deserve the ridicule, but what we're seeing here is a traumatized, emotionally neglected boy trying to communicate the best that he can that he loves and appreciates his friends, and receiving nothing but mockery in return.

It's really not a surprise, then, that he goes off the deep end. His entire life prior to the game has been shit; he got broken up with as soon as he entered the game (by someone who didn't even care enough not to use fish puns while doing it); he's ostracized and avoided for the game's duration; and then he spends the rest of his time on the meteor being bullied. He feels deeply hopeless and anxious about their situation because he literally doesn't know how else to exist, and his concerns are dismissed and mocked at every turn. When Feferi turns on him with intent to kill, that's his breaking point.

I see a lot of people say he goes grimdark, or succumbs to external influence somehow, but I don't think that needs to be true (nor is it) - he's just a deeply traumatized kid with almost no support network who's finally been pushed to the edge, despite displaying every possible warning sign and making multiple cries for help. Yes, ultimately, he's guilty for his own actions, but his killing spree - alongside Gamzee's and Vriska's - represents a cohesive failure as a team to address very clear problems in their midst.

So Feferi and Kanaya are sick of his ass. Sollux hates him platonically, Equius doesn't like him, and Nepeta thinks of him as a creep. Vriska is his awkward ex, and Terezi agrees with him when he calls himself pathetic. He never interacts with Tavros, Aradia, or sober!Gamzee. Is there anyone that treats him nicely?

Uh, okay, so I swear this isn't shipping goggles -

Pale EriKar Is Canon And I Can Prove It

So, I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: you can ship what you want to ship. I don't mind. I don't care. Headcanons are valid, death of the author, etc. What you do in your free time is up to you.

What I am attempting to argue in this section is that an Eridan/Karkat moirallegiance was heavily foreshadowed, one of the most heavily foreshadowed things in the entire comic, and - assuming that the original ending of Homestuck included all the dead trolls being brought back and redeemed - was going to be endgame. There's a torrential amount of evidence pointing to this, and very little of it is acknowledged even by the EriKar shippers, which is a shame.

At the very least, I'll be happy if I can convince some Karkat RPers to be extra nice to Eridans, because they are actually just friends who care deeply about each other. Canonically.

The first thing to note is that Eridan and Karkat, at least prior to SGRUB, talk all the time, to the point where Feferi feels the need to comment on it:

CC: You know, I'm not sure w)(y we never talk about our romantic aspirations. CC: We s)(ould more often. It is kind of -EXCITING! CA: shrug CC: Probably because you fill your gossip quota wit)( your nubby )(orned bro. CC: You leave not)(ing left to talk about wit)( your dear sweet moirail! CC: We are supposed to )(elp eac)( ot)(er wit)( t)(at stuff too, remember. CA: maybe CA: seems kinda CA: odd though

("Can you please stop having an emotional affair with Karkat" "Eh, I'll think about it")

The second thing to note is what the contents of those conversations entail. Sure, they "gossip," but it goes deeper than that, because they gossip about things that Karkat would NEVER gossip about with anybody else, because Karkat usually respects his "VERY GOOD FRIEND"s. For example, here Eridan mentions that Karkat has speculated on Kanaya's love life with him:

CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly

And it's not even a one-off thing, because here Karkat is again, mentioning Nepeta's crush on him:

KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME. KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK? KARKAT: HER DISINTEREST IN YOUR ADVANCE WASN'T A REFLECTION ON YOU AT ALL. KARKAT: COME ON, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS.

It's a situation he's been trying to "tiptoe around for a long time," and he tells ERIDAN, of all people? MULTIPLE TIMES? (AND HE ALSO TELLS ERIDAN THAT THE REJECTION WASN'T HIS FAULT???? WHAT??????)

So we've established that they talk frequently and about some pretty seriously sensitive topics. But did you know that they also talk about... their feelings?

See, the thing is, Karkat has always been weirdly nice to Eridan. Here he is in a memo near the very beginning of their game, when Karkat is at his most "rah rah, I'm the big bad leader":

FCA: i got a problem FCA: wwith feferi FCA: and im really kinda sittin here in bad shape about it emotionally speakin CCG: OK, WELL CCG: I GET THAT, I HEAR YOU BRO CCG: BUT THIS IS STILL NOT THE RIGHT PLACE FOR THIS SO I'VE GOT TO BAN YOU. CCG banned FCA from responding to memo. CCG: BUT SERIOUSLY JUST GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IN PRIVATE ABOUT IT, OK MAN? CCG: WE'LL GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT.

Compare that to Tavros asking for advice later down in the same memo:

PAT: sINCE i DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE NOW, bUT MAYBE HELP ME, PAT: aBOUT A THING THAT HAS TO DO WITH A GIRL, PAT: lIKE, PAT: a ROMANCE THING, yOU MIGHT KNOW ABOUT, CCG: YOU PEOPLE ARE IMBECILES. CCG: ALL OF YOU. CCG: I AM NOT POSTING THESE MEMOS TO COUNSEL YOU ON YOUR PAST AND FUTURE DATING PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CCG: WHY ARE YOU ALL SUCH BASKET CASES. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE. PAT: sORRY, CCG: SHOULD I BAN YOU? WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT ANYMORE! ONE OF YOU STOOGES WILL BE RIGHT ON THE LAST ONES HEELS WITH ANOTHER SOB STORY. CCG: JUST CCG: HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS BRO.

He then proceeds to dispense no actual love advice; he just points out that Vriska can totally read this memo too, and then mocks them both when she shows up - thus making it clear that he is giving Eridan special treatment.

You see it again in his discussion with Eridan in [S] Kanaya: Return to the Core, where Eridan invokes a "pact" between them, and Karkat immediately plays nice with him, despite himself being extremely high-strung and stressed out:

KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS. ERIDAN: i dont fuckin need this from you i take enough shit as it is from the rest a you dirtscrapers i thought you and me had a kinda pact or wwhatevver KARKAT: OK FINE, SHUT UP, I APOLOGIZE. I KNOW IT'S TOUGH BEING YOU.

That's definitely pity, which Karkat states to be the basis of all relationships besides pitch. But, sure, okay, Karkat is sometimes nice to his friends. He is, after all, the Friendship Troll, so that's not necessarily out of the ordinary. But how about the fact that it goes both ways?

That's right, Eridan "100% aggro 100% of the time" Ampora is actually really considerate toward Karkat's feelings, and basically nobody else's. Upon hearing that Karkat is distressed that Sollux has died, Eridan actively puts his own meltdown about his breakup with Feferi on pause:

TC: BeCaUsE OuR GoOd bRo sOlLuX JuSt kIcKeD ThE WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKiN ShIt CA: wwhat the fuck do you mean by that CA: are you sayin hes dead TC: YeAh :o( CA: oh fuck CA: oh god fuck noww i feel like an asshole

He then goes on to chastise Gamzee for his shitty advice, demanding to be given the chance to comfort Karkat himself instead:

TC: BuT I ToLd hIm tO Be cHiLl TC: BeCaUsE ThErE Is a mIrAcLe cOmInG, i cAn fEeL It CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT TC: i'Ve gOt tO BeLiEvE At wHaT My hEaRt tElLs iN Me, EvEn iF It's a fAkE ThInG TC: HoNk CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on

Before finally giving up when Gamzee insists he's "too scared of Jack" to help, drinking some Faygo, and trying to ask past Karkat for help, because past Karkat isn't sad yet about Sollux dying. So, to recap,

Eridan's first instinct when in emotional duress is to go to Karkat.

Eridan feels like he knows Karkat well enough to know that Gamzee's advice would be useless (and is proven right by the fact that Gamzee and Karkat's moirallegiance fails for similar reasons).

Eridan is willing to shelve his own emotional meltdown for Karkat's sake.

Eridan demands to be the one to provide Karkat with emotional support.

And this is, again, not a one-off thing. In the memo Karkat opens right after Eridan and Gamzee have both turned murderous, after he's spent several minutes making death threats toward Eridan and insulting him directly, he goes:

CCG: I'M SO UPSET, I'M JUST COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE. PCA: yeah i knoww wwhat its like you wwanna talk about it

Eridan spends this entire memo under the belief that it's a completely run-of-the-mill conversation they're having:

PCA: i mean yeah obvviously i kneww you wwerent serious PCA: i guess i appreciate the effort youre puttin into cheerin me up PCA: i can alwways count on you for some good ironic repartee kar nobody else really gets our sense a humor CCG: UGH, NO PCA: are you busy PCA: you said youd try to make it to lowwaa soon wwell howw about it

Which implies that offering to listen to Karkat's feelings is also a completely regular thing for them.

But something magical is ALSO happening within this last memo, and to really explain it, I'll first have to be a little mean to the GamKar shippers (sorry).

So, canonically, GamKar doesn't work out for them, despite also being somewhat foreshadowed. In fact, they feature on Nepeta's shipping wall, which is actually, in my opinion, foreshadowing that it WOULDN'T work out. (Nepeta's ships being wrong, and shipping being something she needs to learn to outgrow, is a whole essay on its own, that I'm not getting into here.)

But the thing is, the seeds for them not working out were also planted in the first - and only - real post-moirallegiance interaction that they have with each other, where Gamzee tries to calm Karkat down... and FAILS:

GAMZEE: naw brother, i was just about to all say for you to try and get your settle down on, maybe. GAMZEE: :o( ... KARKAT: OK KARKAT: OK YEAH KARKAT: I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT. KARKAT: NO, YOU'RE RIGHT, I SHOULD RELAX. KARKAT: AND BREATHE. KARKAT: I MEAN, WHAT ARE MOIRAILS FOR, RIGHT? KARKAT: THIS IS HOW IT WORKS, I STOP YOU FROM KILLING EVERYBODY, THEN YOU RETURN THE FAVOR AND CALM ME DOWN AND I JUST KARKAT: BREATHE KARKAT: LIKE KARKAT: THIS... KARKAT: SNIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK, THAT SUN IS BRIGHT. KARKAT: CALL ME CRAZY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD TO RELAX WITHIN A STONE'S THROW FROM, OH, I GUESS ONLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING STAR ANY MORTAL HAS EVER LAID EYES ON. ... KARKAT: BUT I MEAN, CAN THIS BE HEALTHY? KARKAT: AREN'T WE GOING TO GET BURNED OR HAVE OUR RETINAS SCORCHED BY LOOKING AT IT? KARKAT: OH GOD I THINK I'M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.

But let's go back to that memo where Karkat is freaking out in every way possible. This is how he starts that memo - so upset about the deaths of his friends and terrified by Gamzee that he can barely string together a coherent thought:

CCG: WE ARE SO SCREWED. CCG: OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. CCG: GUYS, I AM TERRIFIED, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. CCG: I'M IN A ROOM FULL OF BODIES, AND I THINK I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM? CCG: OH MY GOD, I JUST HEARD A HONK. ... CCG: FEFERI, I'M SORRY. CCG: IT WAS MY FAULT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. PCC: Sorry for w)(at?? CCG: FOR CCG: I CCG: I CAN'T DO THIS CCG: IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME, I'M SORRY.

In fact, he's so distressed that he bans Past!Feferi and Past!Gamzee almost immediately after they come in. But then Eridan comes in, and... I mean, first of all, just compare how long it takes for him to ban Eridan:

But more interesting are the contents of their conversation. Over the course of talking to Eridan... Karkat completely calms the fuck down. Like he's entirely forgotten that he's shitting his pants with fear. In fact, he even starts critiquing Eridan for his dumbassery:

PCA: evven if i wwasnt compelled to think you wwere still bein flippant and ironic wwith me you cant exactly outright reject me can you CCG: WHY NOT PCA: cause youre future you PCA: doesnt count unless its present you til then its all fair game CCG: IS THIS REAL, ARE YOU BEING IRONIC OR SOMETHING, I CAN'T EVEN TELL ANYMORE CCG: THE PROBLEM IS, I CAN'T PUT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR PAST YOU AT ALL, SO I DON'T KNOW. ... CCG: YOU'RE KILLING ANGELS NOW, AREN'T YOU PCA: no CCG: YOU ARE KILLING FUCKING ANGELS, RIGHT NOW, IN THE PAST, WITH YOUR SHITTY GUN. I JUST KNOW IT. PCA: wwell uh PCA: therere just so damn many kar and theyre not gettin any less bloody pissed is the thing CCG: THIS IS WHY IT WOULD NEVER WORK BETWEEN US, MAN.

It's extremely funny. Over the course of talking to Eridan, he goes from:

CCG: OH GOD OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD CCG: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

To:

CCG banned PCA from responding to memo. CCG: ANYWAY CCG: THAT'S IT I GUESS.

Eridan isn't even trying to calm Karkat down. He still succeeds in doing so. This is because they are soul mates. And I mean that in the sense that the comic literally calls being moirails soul mates, which it doesn't do for the other quadrants:

A reasonable human translation would be the concept of a soul mate, but in a more platonic sense, and with a more specific social purpose.

That "social purpose" being that an even-tempered troll calms down a more hot-tempered one, and vice versa.

It also goes on to note:

But some pale pairings, as the one above [referring to a picture of Nepeta and Equius], will be strikingly obvious to all who know them.

But what's really interesting is the next page.

And yet others will seem to have been hatched for each other.

Did you catch that? Let me zoom in.

(Also, the blue and red cuttlefish to represent Sollux - Feferi and Sollux spend the whole game together, and even wind up talking about their feelings constantly in a pile - more on piles in a sec.)

In fact... in Eridan's first visual appearance...

The crab has always been there for him.

It's also important to talk about the bottle of Faygo that's been photoshopped to be candy red, Karkat's blood color. The path that it takes actually directly mirrors Karkat's relationships with Gamzee and Eridan - it's initially something that Gamzee has, but winds up being ejected out of his life, and washes up on Eridan's shore. In fact:

TC: SnAtCh aN IcEcOlD, dOg TC: MoThErFuCkIn cHuG ThAt sHiT LiKe yOu aNd tHe bOtTlE WaS ReUnItEd lOvErS CA: are you recommendin a bevverage to me or somethin CA: is that wwhat this is TC: YeAh mAn SlAm A FaYgO CA: i dont havve a fuckin faygo you stupid fuck wwhy wwould i keep that disgusting shit on hand TC: ArE YoU MoThErFuCkIn sUrE AbOuT ThAt? CA: oh CA: oh god youre right i do CA: i totally forgot about it TC: YoU SeE MaN TC: MoThEr TC: FuCkIn TC: MiRaClEs TC: :o)

When Gamzee and Eridan discuss this exact bottle, Gamzee even likens it to "reunited lovers"; it's something that Eridan has had this whole time (after all, he was cheating on Feferi with the guy), but never realized.

There are a few miscellaneous things that don't really mean anything on their own, but put next to all this other stuff, is worth considering, so I'll list those now.

First, they both do the bonk:

Second:

CG: ARE WE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE OF STUFF I SAID. TA: eheheheh you LIITERALLY a2k me that every tiime are you jokiing. TA: ii cant even tell anymore. CG: IT'S A JOKE MORON. CG: HONESTLY I'M JUST GLAD NOBODY ELSE IS PRIVVY TO OUR CONVERSATIONS.

Third, Karkat muses to his future self about how he misses his friends, especially the assholes, two pages before staring at a dead Eridan's ass (joking, he's definitely looking at WV, but it's still significant that this thought is being associated with Eridan):

CCG: I MEAN, DON'T GET ME WRONG. CCG: I MISS ALL OF MY DEAD FRIENDS A LOT. CCG: EVEN THE ASSHOLES! I MISS THEM TOO. MAYBE EVEN ESPECIALLY THEM, IN SOME PERVERSE WAY. CCG: AND I SHOULD BE RELIEVED THAT THEY ALL SEEM TO BE HAPPY IN SOME WAY, EVEN IF IT'S BY FLOATING NEBULOUSLY THROUGH DREAM PROJECTIONS WITH THEIR FREAKY BLANK EYES. CCG: AND I GUESS I AM RELIEVED ABOUT THAT. CCG: BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT'S LEFT ME UNSETTLED.

Fourth, in the same conversation, he bemoans his failed relationship with Terezi, before Future!Karkat chastises Past!Karkat for his instability and mixed signals. Going back to the page on moirallegiances, an explicit function of a proper pale relationship is stabilizing a troll's other relationships:

The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.

Of course, I don't need to tell you how messy and unstable Eridan's relationships have been.

And finally, Piles of Stuff™ are associated with moirails, and directly stated in-comic to cause an outpouring of emotion:

Standing near this pile stirs powerful emotions. The closer you stand to piles of stuff, the more freely the feelings flow. It is a law of reality.

So here's a seven-word tragedy for you: For Sale, Shitty Wand Pile, Never Used:

ERIDAN: at least i got the upright basic decency to hide my shitty wand pile somewwhere in the lab you wwont find it dont evven bother lookin KARKAT: WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES HAVE PILES OF THINGS, JUST STOP.

(Which he specifically tells Karkat about.)

So, yeah, what I'm saying is, there's just, like, a weirdly large amount to read into here. That Karkat and Eridan are probably soulmates or whatever. And that this is important because...

Eridan Is Plot Relevant (Well All The Dead Trolls Are But This Is An Essay About Eridan)

So. Now we are going to talk about themes. Yes, like we are in schoolfeeding again. I'm going to keep it simple, because "The Themes of Homestuck" is a whole essay on its own, and this one about just the shitty fish boy is already way too long.

I think it's fairly non-controversial to posit that the main theme of Homestuck is, "children should mature, care about each other, and throw off the shackles of their old society, because they will be responsible for a new world one day."

Up until Game Over/the Retcon, this is so prevalent and well-established that SBURB/SGRUB's coming-of-age themes will outright be commented upon by the characters, and the main villain is a child who deliberately stunted his own growth so he could go around kicking over other peoples' toys forevermore.

So, the thing is, with that being the theme of Homestuck, if ALL of the Alternian trolls don't survive to the end, the ending is thematically unsatisfying, because the message suddenly gains an addendum of "well, some kids just need to die," which totally sucks. Like, sure, Eridan was a violent, crazed murderer even at the best of times, but his permanent death within the canon ending kind of means that the comic is saying that people in his position don't deserve kindness or second chances. That position being a traumatized, emotionally neglected child, who was being bullied by people he considered his friends. It's a pretty terrible message.

It's even worse when you consider what other trolls don't make it to the end - Nepeta, the most outspoken troll against the hemospectrum (and Davepeta does NOT count, don't try to tell me the final culmination of Nepeta's character arc is being combined with some guy she barely knows and a bird). Feferi, who genuinely wanted the best for others, even if she was kind of a privileged princess. Aradia and Sollux also stay behind in the bubbles, even though their lives have pretty much been endless parades of suffering and being used by other people. Even Equius doesn't deserve it - he was kind of a casteist freak, but not irredeemably so, and the fact that he became kinder to Karkat over the course of SGRUB proved that he had the capacity to change. And Tavros, allergic to himself and being insulted by Vriska, is a terrible way to end his arc.

It's also really clear that, since half his friends are dead, Karkat just doesn't really have anything to do. His title is the Knight of Blood, and Blood is about bonds - romance, friendship. And yet, he ends the comic having never figured out what Blood was about, with no confirmed filled quadrants (sorry DaveKat likers, but within the comic itself, DaveKat is never confirmed), and most of his bonds nothing more than ghosts in the bubbles. It's a terribly unsatisfying ending for the most narratively important troll.

I think, then, that even if you don't agree that Homestuck should have ended with full revivals and redemption arcs for all the trolls, the essay is going to proceed on like you do, so, sorry, I guess.

The thing with Eridan, specifically, is that he's actually tied deeply into the plot and themes, and his return means more than just Karkat finally getting a date (although that's important, too). Eridan is directly intertwined with a prophecy to kill Lord English; he's set up to mirror Caliborn and Calliope; and thematically, his redemption would be the most clear instance of the "interrogating society" part of the theme of Homestuck, because Eridan is kind of the Society Troll. And also, he was definitely supposed to be Roxy's wizard boyfriend.

Just gonna get that last one out of the way real quick because it's a fast one, Roxy fucking loves wizards and is a hipster. Eridan is a wizard and is also a hipster. Roxy has a crush on a prince. Eridan is also a prince. Roxy wears a purple striped scarf. Eridan wears a blue striped scarf. Roxy uses rifles. Eridan uses rifles. Momlonde's introduction includes a passive-aggressive fridge battle that features a cameo of Eridan's quirk.

Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together. Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.

Yeah. So. Uh. Not only did Eridan need to be brought back to date Karkat pale, but he also needed to be brought back to date Roxy flushed. Can you imagine how funny it would be. They'd get together within 5 minutes of meeting for the first time and Rose would lose her shit. Anyway.

Him being a parallel to Calliope and Caliborn is also a quick one - Caliborn uses Riflekind/Sceptrekind, and Calliope uses Pistolkind/Wandkind. Eridan's two weapons are rifles and wands. Lord English is described as an evil wizard and at one point is shown using Calliope's wand. Eridan is also an evil wizard who uses a wand.

Look, I'm not saying that Eridan is necessarily directly related to these two, nor am I even necessarily saying that he and Roxy HAVE to date, but I am saying that he's got Weird Plot Connections that make him bizarrely relevant to characters that only come into play well after his death - almost like the comic was setting up that he would be coming back. His reaction to Cronus supports this, which I go into detail about here.

There's other strange "Eridan's plot important" things, too - like the fact that he's completely unimpressed by Faygo, considering it to be "just soda," and seems to be the only non-cultist who's okay with it. Or the fact that he's actually been awake on Derse since before the game (but unable to hear the horrorterrors, maybe foreshadowing some psychic resistance?) which he casually reveals to Kanaya and which Terezi is aware of, hence he's included in the people she names are "in" on the existence of the game. Or the fact that the genetic code for Alternia's first guardian was written within the pages of four FLARP books, with the addition of a fifth code Gamzee wrote in Karkat's ~ATH book... but Eridan was the fifth FLARP player in the team, implying that Doc Scratch/LE influencing Gamzee caused him to usurp Eridan's part of the first guardian code, giving LE his way into the trolls' universe.

Individually, it's all kind of nothing, but it just paints a bigger picture of Eridan being weirdly relevant, especially when we get to the juicy stuff:

The Prophecy

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. ... [T]his magician once somehow from afar tried to strike him down at a young age, so he would never have to face him. 8ut the evil spell was deflected, sealing the magician's spirit away in a series of unassuming vessels until he could find some other cunning way to enter our universe. ... ARANEA: 8ut at some point he 8ecame disillusioned with magic. If there ever was any truth to his far fetched vision, the legacy of defeating the evil magician would have to 8e passed on to his descendant, or if his descendant proved to 8e as much of a failure as he did, then perhaps on to some other Hero of Hope.

ERIDAN: i slaughtered enough angels to knoww my limits and wwhere i stand against the lord of all angels they prophecized

GG: im pretty sure hes from the future! CA: wwhy GG: because he said hes my grandson CA: wwhat the fuck is a grandson CA: is that some kind of pervverse human familial thing GG: umm yes ... CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be ... CA: i kinda think thats wwhy i found the gun in the first place CA: but noww im forsakin it because fuck i just found a better destiny than my old crappy one wwhich i nevver got any appreciation for anywway

Jake is supposed to have been the one to defeat Lord English. (No, Jake defeating pre-LE Caliborn right before he gets sealed into Cal doesn't count! He doesn't even get the final blow in that fight, DIRK does.)

But Eridan at one point had that destiny on his shoulders. Aranea turbohealing Jake, and the resultant hope field, summons a bunch of angels, which are heavily associated with Eridan - yet another random connection that Eridan has with future plot events.

Jake was another character, alongside Karkat, who was kind of reduced to a joke by the end, despite the fact that he had literally, directly, been passed the destiny of defeating Lord English. It's hard not to see this as a consequence, at least in part, of removing Eridan from the story. By cutting him out of the fabric of the ending, several plot threads - including this prophecy - are left dangling in irrelevance. And so Jake, like Karkat, now has nothing to do.

Homestuck is generally a series where every prophecy does come true, which makes it kind of startling when several prophecies fail to - Feferi's to "unite the two races," Jake's to defeat Lord English, and Karkat's to bring "compassion, forgiveness, and equality among all bloodlines" in the Signless's place.

That last one is actually relevant to:

The Thematic Importance of EriKar As Soul Mates

Eridan represents the worst aspects of Alternian society. He's a sea dweller at the top of the caste structure, with free reign to murder whoever he wants, soaked in the blood of thousands of innocent trolls. He espouses the casteist rhetoric that their society is built on, calling for the deaths of all land dwellers and the oppression of the lower castes. And while he should be benefitting from his position of privilege, it has also done nothing but hurt him.

Karkat, meanwhile, is a pariah. A mutant who would've been culled on sight, who spent his entire life living in hiding, and most of the game in fear that he would be ostracized or worse by the rest of his friends if they found out about his blood color. He's also the second coming of Troll Jesus, and thus, more despised by the Alternian ruling class than a mutant normally would be. For most of his life, he dreamed of nothing more than finding belonging within the society that had deemed him unfit.

Their friendship is something that "should not be." The highblood and the mutant. The royal-v and the off-spectrum. The empress's sea dweller and the second coming of the signless. Eridan "should" see Karkat as a miscreant to cull on sight. Karkat "should" be terrified of Eridan's very existence.

But in reality, Eridan doesn't give a shit about blood color, and Karkat just wants to be accepted. Eridan just wants someone to care about him, and Karkat loves his friends. Aside from Feferi, Eridan is the only highblood who never comments about Karkat's mutant blood, and they were best buddies even before Eridan knew.

Eridan and Karkat getting together isn't JUST the two most undateable trolls on the team finally landing a stable quadrant. These two, moreso than any other pairing, represent the themes of Homestuck. Children growing up, caring about each other, and throwing off the shackles of their old society.

In the pre-retcon timeline, their team failed to do so. This led to Gamzee falling into his highblood clown cult, Equius letting himself and Nepeta die by submitting to his place in the hemospectrum, Vriska killing Tavros because she couldn't allow herself to show weakness, and Eridan completing his caste's dream of genocide. Karkat spent the entire meteor trip and beyond beating himself up about it, since he considered it all to be his fault.

But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, they have the chance to, one by one, redeem themselves. I believe that's how the original ending would have gone: Terezi would ask John to bring Vriska back, because she only feels comfortable fixing her own mistakes. Vriska would then have asked John to bring back Tavros, whom she regretted killing. Tavros would be there for Gamzee, rendering him an ally. Gamzee would ask John to bring back Equius and Nepeta. Equius would ask John to help him not make the same mistakes with Aradia, and Aradiabot would catch John by the wrist and demand he bring her back in time to before she died, allowing her to circumvent her own death and Sollux's guilt. Sollux would ask John to keep him from provoking Eridan, saving Feferi. And Feferi would be pretty ok with the way things were... but KARKAT would then pull John aside, and drop an entire book of mistakes he made on John's lap, and this would result in a finalized timeline where all his friends are alive and god-tiered.

Because all the trolls SHOULD have survived.

Vriska should've survived because people should be allowed to have second chances.

Tavros should've survived because caring about each other, and being willing to show kindness and mercy, are good things.

Gamzee should have survived because people mired in religious fundamentalism and cults deserve to be offered a helping hand.

Equius should've survived because people should be allowed to grow and change their beliefs.

Nepeta should've survived because she was the anti-casteism troll. Casteism is bad, folks! Not only that, but I'm convinced that she was originally going to give the Ultimate Self exposition, and Davepetasprite^2 had to be contrived in the canon ending in order to shortcut Nepeta's character development, ruining it in the process.

Aradia should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team and live a life free of the control of evil uncles and shitty ancestors.

Sollux should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team because we all deserve to heal and be happy.

Feferi should've survived so she could be in a kismesistude with Nepeta, and realize that casteism itself is bad, not just the definition of culling, and then used her Witch of Life powers to even out the lifespans between the next generation of trolls, which needs to happen or else casteism will just happen again as long-lived highbloods inevitably amass power. And, also, it would complete the prophecy Gl'bgolyb gave her that she was intended to unite the two races (dream bubbles don't count, because by that metric, Sollux did more than she did by establishing a connection between the trolls and humans).

And Eridan should've survived, because the harm society has done to us can be undone. We don't have to submit to the roles it imposes, to the laws it wrote, to the abuse it inflicted. We can be free.

I've seen a lot of people who believe that such-and-such character did SUCH awful things that they don't deserve a happy ending. Oftentimes, it's Eridan, but nearly all of the dead trolls have gotten this treatment. So, let me just ask all of you who have gotten this far and still hold that opinion one thing. Do you think that's what Troll Jesus would have wanted?

This is why pale EriKar is so important: for it to happen, Eridan has to make a choice between upholding the beliefs of his shitty society, or pursuing a happier, kinder future, one where he outright rejects the caste system. For it to happen, Karkat has to shake all his insecurities about not being good enough by Alternian standards, and take on the duty of creating something better than what he came from. If pale EriKar happens, it means Eridan and Karkat choose love, not fear. Compassion, forgiveness, and equality.

This choice - this pairing - is the ultimate representation of giving Alternian society one big middle finger. Saying, we don't need you anymore, fuck off! Saying, we reject you at your core; we will choose something better! Saying, we will create a new world, and it will be kinder than the one we came from!

Pale EriKar means LOVE WINS.

Thank you for reading.

[superbeaucoupdevisages]

☕ For Dirk from Jake

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse, and I’ll tell you what my muse tastes! (In addition, I may also add how much it would heal my muse depending on their relationship with yours!)| @chaosmultiverse​

    Dirk was never one for tea to begin with, both and him and Dave were absolute energy drink and soda fiends, so this was. New. Weird. But anything for the sake of his friends, he guesses? Besides he’d made a personal promise to at least TRY new things he had never had before now that he had the chance. It smelled kind of...Earthy? Is that a thing with tea and coffee? But maybe some sort of fruit in there? Well, no time like the present. Though of course, after one swig, he was making a bit of a face. He kind of felt bad, but holy shit.

      “Dude. It’s like...Plant? No specific plant, but just green plants. And maybe...Some weird tropical fruits? Whatever it is, I’ve never had it before, that’s for damn sure. At least...It’s a tiny bit sweet?” He wasn’t even going to bring up the really strange sort of gunpowder-y aftertaste. Unfortunately, Dirk is going to have to give it a pass. But health is healed by 75%, so it counts for something!

[dellcartwrights]

Delly nodded. "I can tell. Your mom's a healer too, right? I remember once when I was younger, I was sick and my mom couldn't get my fever down so she went to yours for something. Whatever it was worked and I felt better after a few days. Maybe it's in your family's blood," she mused. It had been a long time since she thought of when she got that bad flu. "Maybe they'll train her to be a doctor here. I bet they need more doctors," Delly pointed out. When Katniss said that she would help, she looked over at her, a little bit surprised. "You would do that?" Delly asked. Even though she had put it out there that she needed help, she hadn't been sure that Katniss would want to. Things had been so weird between them, but it did feel like maybe they were moving in the right direction. "It would be nice though. The help. If you're not too busy." For a moment, Delly wondered if Katniss knew about her newfound friendship with Gale. Had he told Katniss about their time together? For some reason Delly decided not to tell her. She didn't want to ruin things. "They are. Dirk stayed with them back in the woods," she explained. Because Gale had tried to save her parents. That was why Dirk was with Gale. Why had Gale tried so hard to save her parents? She nodded. "He doesn't like to talk about them when he has them. I usually try to calm him down and get him back to sleep."

She didn't know how to help Katniss or what the right thing to say was. They both missed Peeta. They both felt like they had failed Peeta by leaving him behind. But Delly knew that her guilt was unfounded. She hadn't even known where Peeta was when the Quarter Quell ended, had just assumed that he was safe. Gale had told her to go to the roof, but she hadn't known what she was walking into. She had known that something weird was going on, Gale had been so weird that day, but she still hadn't known. And when she got on the hovercraft she had trusted that Peeta would be on one too, that he would be okay. It hadn't been until later that she had known the truth of it. "I think I do," she finally said, looking at Katniss. "We don't...we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you want to, I'll listen. I hear I've gotten better at that lately." Delly tried to smile, but she was sure that it fell flat. She nodded her head at Katniss's answer. "Well...if you need any help with anything you know where to find me. I don't know what I can really do but I want to help if I can, okay? Even...even if it's taken apart a whole kitchen to clean just to distract ourselves from it all," she giggled at the absurdity of the situation. She couldn't help it.

A part of Delly didn't believe that. Peeta had told her all about the ways that they could fix someone in the Capitol. Who was to say that they weren't hurting him and then fixing him up so he looked pretty on the tv? But saying that out loud, when Katniss was so clearly struggling, was not a good idea. So she nodded her head. "You're right. I'm sure...I'm sure he's going to be okay. He's going to be okay," she repeated.

compliments to primrose always lands easier than the ones uttered about katniss herself, so that earns delly a generous smile. "it's her callin', y'know? but she's grown really good at all that." she's grown, sixteen and much taller than katniss, healthier-looking, prettier, wiser than one would expect of a teenager katniss hasn't come to terms yet of said growth; while she's glad to see how her sister has blossomed, she can't help but to still see prim as just her baby sister. though the smile diminishes, its small version stays there, attempting to encourage delly's own promise. "i can help." it feels like something she could do, something almost tangible. "the hawthornes are good company." gale somehow becoming close to a merchant family flies over her head, too consumed by someone else and too many other things to dissect that odd piece of news; the thought of how traumatized delly's little brother must be seems way more pressing, among other stuff. "is he having bad dreams?" suddenly, she regrets even offering to help a child who was made an orphan because of her actions. 

the guilt is such a constant, insistent pang, that when delly tries to remove its shroud from her shoulders, katniss can not help but to frown, as if what delly had said was wrong — it is wrong. she should have done more, shouldn't have just let him go to his own interview, should have fought like a mad woman to keep him near, the way she had done in the arena. hadn't she promised she wouldn't let him die? not enough a promise, it seems, when they are apart again, and she can't protect him from everything that must be done to him. "you don't get it." and she doesn't want to talk about this; how can she put down the weight of this? not only peeta, but everything, everyone else that has lost too much. how can they still want her to speak for these people? desperation gets stuck in her throat with the lump of tears she refuses she shed, and the scream she can not let out. and delly thinks she has power? only that of destruction, of barely holding herself together. why does she have to do this? "wantin' ain't have much to do with anythin' in my life, delly. if it is what it takes to get peeta back, it's what i will do." what she hasn't done for him before, she can do now — has to do now. 

it takes a lot not to scream, more not to cry. "i think — they ain't hurtin' him too bad. they can't show him battered on tv if they want their message to come across." it's what they are, to either party, in the end: just propaganda tools, pretty things shoved in front of a camera and made to read lines. but while she has the illusion of a choice, the possibility of demands, does peeta? "they  — they can't hurt him." she isn't sure if she's trying to convince herself or delly, but she's shaky at the task regardless.

[protecticarus]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I love your fics, they’re absolutely amazing. Anyway... bit of an odd request but can I get an angsty fic where Dirk realizes he’s in love with Todd? (and proceeds to do nothing about it) The amount that I kin Dirk might be a little concerning, and the amount that I associate my best friend of four years with Todd (and they agree) might be a bit concerning. Especially since I just figured out... whoops, I’m in love with them! (and let me tell you it HURTS) I’m almost 100% sure feel the same they’re just not at an emotionally stable point for me to tell them. (you know, much like Todd) So I know it seems a bit silly and weird, but I think it might help me cope a bit to see Dirk in a similar situation, feel less alone

hi anon! i’m sorry you’re stuck in such a complicated situation. i hope it all works out in the end. i can definitely relate to dealing with things by reading about a similar experiences and relating to fictional characters a little too hard. just remember that what you’re feeling is valid and no pain is permanent. x

i hope this does the trick!

~

The tv screen flickered between a diverse selection of images, the sound cutting off well before a full phrase could be heard.

“I regret the day I taught you how to use the remote.” Todd told his friend from the kitchen.

“What on earth for?” Dirk absent-mindedly replied while switching the channel, yet again. He had already kicked off his shoes and was now comfortably lounging on Todd’s couch.

Todd rolled his eyes. “Definitely not because you switch the channel about 187 times a minute.” He replied.

Dirk scoffed. “Poppycock.”

“God, you’re so British.” Todd murmured. “Just pick a channel, Dirk.” He added, louder.

“Fine!” Dirk said and lifted his finger off the button. “There’s some sort of apocalypse film on, we can watch that?” He added after he registered the image of a large fire on the screen.

Todd poked his head out of the kitchen long enough to see the screen. “Hate to break it to you, Dirk, but that’s the news.” He said.

Dirk’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, the world’s going to shit. Pick something else.” Todd told him.

“You just told me to stop changing the ch-“

“Just pick something other than the news, Dirk, Jesus.” Todd interrupted.

Finally after a few more channel jumps, Dirk settled on a rerun episode of Friends.

Soon, Todd sat down next to him on the couch and handed him a cup. “Here.”

Dirk furrowed his brows. “What’s this?” He asked.

“Your tea.” Todd said, already focusing on the tv.

“You made me tea?” Dirk asked.

“Yeah, you usually drink tea at this time of day, right?” Todd replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Y-Yes, I suppose I do.” Dirk replied. He had no idea that Todd had taken notice of his tea drinking habits. “What kind of tea is it?” Dirk asked.

Todd scoffed. “That one- you know, your favorite one.” He replied.

Dirk lifted the cup to his face and sniffed. It was indeed his favorite tea. “You know what my favorite tea is?”

Todd finally turned to look at him, with an amused expression on his face. “Yeah, of course. You drink it all the time.” He said and turned back towards the tv.

Dirk just turned to stare into his tea. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

“Sure.” Mumbled Todd, like it was no big deal.

But it was to Dirk.

The only time another person had made Dirk tea was when he ordered it from a barista in a coffee shop. And then he had to specifically instruct them to make it the way he liked it. But here was Todd, knowing this about Dirk, just by paying attention. By caring enough to take notice.

Dirk lifted the cup to his lips in an attempt to hide his growing smile. Todd had made him tea.

As Dirk took his first sip of the tea, he turned his eyes toward Todd, who was still watching the tv. The tea was a little weaker than Dirk himself made it and still a little too hot to really enjoy but... It was made by Todd. For Dirk.

Despite all his claims of being an asshole, Todd’s affection for those he cared about was clear as day in the little things he did. It was one of the reasons Dirk loved him.

Dirk spit some of his tea back into the cup, shocked by his own train of thought. Todd turned to look at him.

“Ew.” Said Todd. “Is it bad?” He asked.

“No! No, not at all.” Dirk hurried to reply. “Just hot.” He added.

“Oh, okay. Let it cool down.” Todd said and turned back toward the tv.

“Good idea.” Dirk said, his attention already far away from the conversation.

Obviously by ‘one of the reasons he loved Todd’ Dirk had meant ‘one of the things he loved about Todd.’ There was a clear distinction between the two. You can love things about a person without loving the person.

As soon he’d tried to tell himself this, Dirk knew the truth. He loved Todd. And not just that, oh no. He loved Amanda and Farah, sure. But he loved Todd. He was in love with Todd.

Dirk felt the sudden urge to list all the swear words he knew - which would be an extensive list - but he decided against it, as he didn’t feel like explaining this course of action to Todd.

Dirk felt dumb. How could he not have realized this before now? Clearly it was not a new development. He felt the exact same way about Todd that he had prior to this day. The same way he had felt about him for a while. Only now he knew what it was.

He would have liked to pretend he was mistaken, chalk it up to not having previous experience with being in love, but Dirk knew better. If you’d asked him a year ago what being in love felt like, he’d have shrugged his shoulders and replied with something along the lines of ‘I haven’t the slightest clue!’ and go on about his day.

But now? He knew exactly what that particular emotion was.

It was the warm tidal wave in his stomach whenever Todd laughed at something he said. It was the sudden burning in his cheeks when Todd touched him. It was the rib-cracking pain when Todd was hurt or in danger. It was the ineffable pull he felt coming from Todd, constantly begging for Dirk to come just a little bit closer.

Dirk had never given much thought to the popular idea that when you’re in love, you just know. It was incredibly cheesy. Yet, as it turns out, surprisingly accurate.

Dirk fought the urge to groan out loud. This had not been part of his plan. The plan was: befriend Todd, start a detective agency with Todd and work with Todd. That was it. Much like the little girl with the red cape from that morbid children’s story Todd had told him about, Dirk had strayed far from the assigned path.

In so many ways, Dirk was eccentric. He had never fit any ready-made mold, he had never fit any stereotype. And now here he was. In love with his best friend. What a cliché.

Dirk’s bitter musings were suddenly interrupted by a loud laugh coming from the man next to him. Dirk turned his attention to Todd, who seemed to be thoroughly amused by a woman with a turkey on her head dancing on the tv screen.

Todd’s laugh was like music to Dirk’s ears. His stupid, predictable ears.

Dirk too tried to focus on the screen rather than Todd’s side profile, only to witness the turkey-headed woman’s shock at her companion telling her he loved her by accident. It was clearly the first time she heard this confession and the man immediately tried to backtrack and deny ever having said those three words in the first place. Nevertheless, she seemed elated at this revelation. She kept repeating ‘you love me, you love me’ excitedly.

Dirk turned his attention back to the object of his affection. For a moment he imagined what Todd’s reaction would be to hearing those words from Dirk.

He’d like to imagine that Todd would react somewhat similarly to how the woman had on the show. Surprised, but overtly happy. Dirk’s eyes suddenly felt incredibly warm. He turned his gaze at the ceiling, hoping to will the tears not to leave his eyes.

He knew his feelings would not be greeted with overt happiness. A small part of him dared to believe that Todd wouldn’t be utterly disgusted by Dirk’s feelings for him. An even smaller part of him almost sort of entertained the idea that Todd might reciprocate. But Dirk also knew that even if those things would somehow be true, they would not change the outcome.

Todd was a mess. A mess Dirk loved dearly, but a mess nonetheless. Todd still believed himself to be an asshole, tightly wound in a web of self-hatred. Amanda was still giving him the silent treatment. He had yet to come clean with his parents about the lie he’d been living. He was still getting used to said lie actually becoming reality, one pararibulitis attack at a time. His apartment still showed signs of the Rowdies’ visit all those months ago, a fact that wouldn’t get taken care of until they started making more steady money at the agency. And then there was the agency. It was up and running, but still in its early stages, still finding its legs.

No matter how he might feel, Todd was in no place to hear that his best friend was in love with him. Dirk was one of the only stable pieces of the crooked Jenga tower that was Todd’s life. Dirk didn’t dare to think what would happen if he were to compromise that structural piece. It wouldn’t be fair to Todd. He needed a friend right now.

Dirk felt like in the span of about five minutes, everything he knew had been turned upside down, yet he ended up in the same place he started at. Turns out he was in love with Todd, but this would and could not affect his actions in any way.

Dirk felt a new flavor of sadness settle on his tongue. He loved Todd, but Todd could not know. Dirk loved him, but it could not be acknowledged outside of his own head.

Suddenly Dirk felt like he might burst with the way deep longing clawed at his chest.

But as he watched Todd, smiling and comfortable on the couch next to Dirk, he decided this was a good thing, not a bad one.

Dirk might have to prioritize being Todd’s friend over his less than platonic feelings for him, but he was more than willing to do that. For Todd.

Love, in all its forms, was a good thing. And Dirk had a lot of it. He might not be able to put it into words, but much like Todd himself, Dirk could let it bleed into the things he did. He could be there for Todd, and love him, without saying so. He could love Todd, even if he never said so.

After all, Todd deserved to be loved, even if he didn’t know it yet. But Dirk would make sure that he would know. Eventually.

“Dirk, drink your tea before it gets cold, I’m not getting up to make you a new one.” Todd said suddenly.

Dirk smiled and raised his cup to his lips again.

~

if you have any ideas for fics, send me prompts! my inbox is always open! xx

[marvus-xoloto]

Okay so. Someone asked me why I thought Marvus was a prince of time and I decided maybe to write a post about it! To be completely honest, this whole ‘theory’ started because I simply enjoy the thought of Marvus in the princely pantaloons lol. 

I want to start this post off with: everyone interprets characters and classes a little differently and classpects are more about personal growth, and I can only present my thoughts based on my own perspective of Marvus. In fact, I do think that you could make strong arguments towards other classes (mage being a strong contender, but I can see witch and bard, for example.... we’ll get to those later), but I feel personally that prince suits him best.

Also I am not a classpecting blog just for the record, nor am I trying to impart some big truth or my own views upon the fandom. This was purely speculation for fun’s sake, and because someone asked :) !!

So let’s start with what it means to be time bound! Very simply put, the time bound are goal oriented, chaos minded, in tune with rhythms and death, and are generally more focused on “the ends justify the means.” This absolutely suits Marvus: he is clearly working towards his own goal (or, my personal opinion, several of his own parallel goals), he definitely wants to “shake things up,” he’s a musician (see his friendsim route, people die to his music), and, well, just look at the end of act 2- he’s definitely justifying his treatment of Joey as end > means. So he’s pretty strongly connected to his aspect right away and takes control of it, which in my opinion rules out page and heir.

Let’s move on to classes to really narrow it down. 

Lord/Muse are reserved for two player sessions, and my personal headcanon is that these are cherub exclusive, so I won’t be looking into or considering those.

Witches take control and change through their aspect: this could definitely suit him! Marvus is all about control and he’s definitely patient enough, but to my understanding witch is that they are very inclined to take command and manipulate their object. Witches in canon tend to be very detached from people (Jade, Damara, Feferi), and Marvus is a people person, so I think we can rule this one out. You could argue that he’s rather detached emotionally, but I’m not going to. Doesn’t vibe with me.

Heirs are served a lot of their aspect without much control over it. Doesn’t sound like Marvus to me, plus I don’t see him as a passive player.

Seer.... I understand why this one is a popular headcanon- it’s all about influencing from behind the scenes, and Marvus definitely does do that- but seers focus their intents almost entirely though others. Marvus definitely inserts himself where he needs to be, and he’s capable of manipulating his aspect on his own when it suits him. And again, I personally don’t see him as a passive player, for all that he’d like to appear passive. He has big goals and he wants to- or, in his eyes, he will achieve them.

Mage is almost right: tbh I don’t quite understand mages, but my interpretation is “understand first, act second.” Suits Marvus, but I think he does have an inclination to want to act as quickly as possible. Plus, it’s implied that mages suffer through their aspect; Marvus is definitely not suffering. Other people certainly are, though, so I can see an argument in favor of Mage of Time Marvus for sure! Again, it simply doesn’t have quite the right vibe to me.

Maids and Sylphs lean more towards being healer classes.... no <3.

Thief and rogue have small themes of justice and stealing, and I don’t see that fitting Marvus.

Now bard.... bard is similar to prince! I only say no to this one because Marvus reads to me as an active class. I do like to imagine him in the bardly god hood, though. I wonder if it would be blasphemy, since those are the robes of the messiahs...? Anyway not relevant kjadslaskdj

So let’s move on to prince, and why I think it suits him.

Princes are destruction classes, and Marvus does have themes of destruction through time throughout his friendsim route and act 2. In friendsim, he did his best to delay (or destroy) the bad time line for MSPAR, and he’s actively helping Joey along the path of... not quite least resistance. It’s fair to say he’s working towards a timeline that suits his needs. Princes are fueled by their aspects, and Marvus definitely shines as a timebound. The strongest and most elegant arguement for Prince of Time; he’s an incredibly successful musician. and themes of prince of time can be found especially prevalent here: people are literally destroyed by his rhythm.

Princes also act as leaders working under an authority. I don’t really want to argue who he’s working for specifically- scratch and the clurch are definitely tied, but Marvus does seem to have his own agenda. This point can only be elaborated on the more we get to understand Marvus as a character, so I’m not going to argue it super deeply just yet.

Lastly, all princes need subjects. For Dirk, he had the carapacians and then later I guess the audience? Idk, i don’t read current homestuck, i don’t know her. Eridan had his angels. Marvus has his adoring crowds.

And on a more personal level, I can see a large personality trait of princes as feeling disdainful or having a complicated relationship with their aspect. Marvus definitely does not like when things stagnate; see how in act two he actively pushes Joey forward, and even pushes her into understanding Alternia so she can grow. 

So yeah those are my thoughts! I can talk about Marvus for hours, but I’d like to reiterate again that this is only my personal point of view and we very likely won’t ever get canon classpects for the fs/act2 trolls, so please have fun and do whatever suits you best! 

[butterflies-dragons]

Sansa, Jon and Sweetness

I know that “sweetness” could be a bad omen for other characters in different contexts, but in these quotes of Jon and Sansa “sweetness” means innocence, family, dreams, beauty, desires and love.     

Sweet Lady

Remember when Jon Snow called his mare “Sweet Lady”?

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IX

As I said before, there are so many things to say about this quote:

Jon Snow, the guy who is supposed to like the warrior woman type, whispered to his mare “Easy, sweet lady”. He could’ve said “Easy, girl”, but he said: “Easy, sweet lady”. Oh Jon, you are such a romantic dork.  

Lady is also the name of Sansa’s direwolf.    

Lady and Ghost are mentioned together and linked in many passages of the Books. I love it.

At this point Lady is dead, so she is literally a ghost.

Later in the Books Jon also dies. So we have a direwolf with a dead master and a master with a dead direwolf.

And guess who is the female character that is called ‘sweet lady’ the most? Yes, the answer is Sansa.   

Red haired girls calling Jon Snow “Sweet” & Jon Snow calling red haired girls “Sweet” 

Ygritte:

Tormund frowned down at Jon. "Best go, if it's the Mance who's wanting you."

Ygritte helped pull him up. "He's bleeding like a butchered boar. Look what Orell did t' his sweet face."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Sansa:

“There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

"Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose."

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Jon:

Blood meant little and less amongst the free folk, Jon knew. Ygritte had taught him that. Gerrick's daughters shared her same flame-red hair, though hers had been a tangle of curls and theirs hung long and straight. Kissed by fire. "Three princesses, each lovelier than the last," he told their father. "I will see that they are presented to the queen." Selyse Baratheon would take to these three better than she had to Val, he suspected; they were younger and considerably more cowed. Sweet enough to look at them, though their father seems a fool.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

Red Hair exists Jon Snow: Lovely! Sweet!

Sweet Dreams of Winterfell

Jon and Sansa really want to go back to Winterfell, their home:

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so . . .

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

Sweet flowery smelling

Jon is OK with sweet flowery smells:

"Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa smells sweet like flowers:

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. He felt as though he was back on the bridge of boats, the deck shifting beneath his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

On the morning her new gown was to be ready, the serving girls filled Sansa's tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her head to toe until she glowed pink. Cersei's own bedmaid trimmed her nails and brushed and curled her auburn hair so it fell down her back in soft ringlets. She brought a dozen of the queen's favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sweet as Song

Jon seems fond of sweet voices and singing:

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

With their black hoods and thick black cowls, the six might have been carved from shadow. Their voices rose together, small against the vastness of the night. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins," they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin's voice was sweet as song, Horse's hoarse and halting, Arron's a nervous squeak. "It shall not end until my death."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa sings sweetly:

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. 

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

Sweet Bran

Jon and Sansa remembering Bran’s sweetness: 

When the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. "The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. "Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?"

"Bran?" The question confused her. "Before he fell, you mean?" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. "Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

When nine-and-ninety hostages had shuffled by them to pass beneath the Wall, Tormund Giantsbane produced the last one. "My son Dryn. You'll see he's well taken care of, crow, or I'll cook your black liver up and eat it."

Jon gave the boy a close inspection. Bran's age, or the age he would have been if Theon had not killed him. Dryn had none of Bran's sweetness, though. He was a chunky boy, with short legs, thick arms, and a wide red face—a miniature version of his father, with a shock of dark brown hair. "He'll serve as my own page," Jon promised Tormund.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

This post was so sweet to write ♡  

[agerefandom]

> Dirk: Regress

Fandom: Homestuck

Characters: Dirk Strider, mentions of Roxy and Jake

Words: 2,750

Summary: Dirk is an age regressor. (It’s a rough day but it’s easier as a four-year-old.)

Warnings: Isolation, body dysmorphia/dysphoria (unspecified), self-sacrificing ideals, one cuss word, mention of storms. 

(Note: I’ve had a few people notice that I usually write from caregiver perspectives for agere fanfiction! I struggle with putting my experience of regression into words, in a way that I don’t with my caregiver experiences. I still enjoy writing reader-insert fanfiction that deviates from my personal experience of regression, but this is my best attempt at communicating the way that I regress.) 

> Dirk: Regress

Your name is Dirk Strider, and some days it’s not worth claiming that you aren’t lonely.

Filling the hours of a day is routine by this point: there’s reprogramming to be done, and new scripts to be written, and fanfiction that you absolutely don’t post online under miscellaneous pseudonyms. There are fights to win and fights to lose and moments when you just throw yourself into the water and let yourself float there until the sun is too bright against your eyelids.

But some days just refuse to pass. Nothing feels like it’s really happening, and none of your friends answer your messages, and you refuse to message again because that would be desperate. Even with four centuries’ worth of internet videos, it feels like there’s nothing to watch, and the walls are closing in with the endless ocean stretching outside. You should be able to fill this day because it’s only as empty as every other day on this abandoned planet, but somehow time seems incapable of passing.

Today seems to be one of those days, and you’ve retreated to the roof to sit and watch the waves. The sun is too warm, and you’ll probably end up with a painful sunburn, but it’s worth it to be away from the wires and screens that remind you of the work you aren’t doing and the friends who aren’t responding.

For some reason this view always seems to feel new, despite the hundreds of days you’ve spent pacing on this roof, fighting on this roof, bleeding on this roof. Something about the sky’s ever-shifting shades and the way the ocean rolls far beneath you. Something about the seagulls that flutter down from the sky to rest their wings, or maybe the wind in your hair and the way it ruffles your clothes, the closest thing you have to human touch.

You close your eyes and lean your chin on your knees, breathing in ocean air that tastes like salt and smoke. You’ve always assumed that the bad smell is an effect of whatever technology the Batterwitch used to flood the planet, but maybe the air on Earth has always been horrible.

The heat is heavy in the air today, which means there might be a storm brewing. The apartment is always the worst during storms, listening to the rusted supports groaning in the wind and wild waves. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll even make it to the fabled game, or if the ocean will just swallow you one day with none of your friends the wiser.

You feel ready to settle in for an afternoon of grade-A moping, but part of you doesn’t agree. Part of you feels like enjoying the sunlight, or going for a swim. That sounds nice, if you’re being honest, but you doubt that you could enjoy anything today. Part of your mind will always be thinking about the messages you’re waiting for, the hours you have to fill, and the fact that tomorrow will be exactly the same as today, and how will you be able to deal with that when today seems so endless?

That excited part of you is insistent, though. It really wants to run around and play, which is an instinct that seems foreign. You mentally inspect the desire, trying to decide if it’s a sign that you’re finally giving up your tenacious grasp on sanity. The more you pay attention to it, the more tempting it feels. Just let go for a while.

There’s an energy in the desire that moves into your body, replacing the lethargy of moping. Your limbs feel ready for climbing, for swimming, for exploring a ruined world stretching around you that you usually prefer to ignore. Maybe it would be nice, to let whatever off part of you this is take the helm for a while. It feels like it might be already happening, and you’re too tired to fight it off. You let the part of yourself that’s moping curl in on itself, finding a little corner of your mind to continue its lethargic musings.

And then you open your eyes and push yourself to your feet.

---->

Your name is Dirk Strider, you are approximately four years old, and the ocean looks incredibly blue.

You feel silly for all the moping you were doing before, and for wasting such a beautiful day. You really want to take off your clothes and get into the water, but a loud part of your brain won’t stop telling you that jumping from this high up is a really bad idea.

Your brain is stupid. You head down from the roof, slamming the door behind you to show that you’re upset about not getting to jump into the waves. Your shoes are discarded carelessly, shirt and sunglasses and pants dropped along the way. Your body is funny, not quite right and not quite wrong. It stops you for a second, and you poke your stomach, hold up your hands. The fingers are unfamiliar. This is your body, isn’t it? Why doesn’t it feel right?

You shrink away from the thoughts, but the part of your brain that’s enjoying its rest pushes you back into awareness before you can get away. Apparently you’re not allowed to stop being here, so you guess that you might as well enjoy it. Away with the body thoughts! You’re getting distracted from the real goal, which is to be in the nice cool water as soon as possible.

Once you’re free of uncomfortable clothes, you patter down a set of stairs where the walls give way to the rusted internal structure of the apartments that used to be below your home. The stairs stop at a metal platform that you remember constructing, the heat of the blowtorch and the glow of the sparks. The memory fits and it doesn’t fit, so you shrug it away as you swing over the platform onto a ladder that leads down to the water.

Halfway down the ladder you know that you’re close enough to the water that it won’t hurt to jump, so you push yourself away from the ladder and let yourself free-fall.

You hit the water feet-first and it envelops you. You can feel the air bubbles combing through your hair, rippling on the bottoms of your feet, the last bit of the above-water world clinging to you. You let yourself drift until there’s only you and the faint ocean currents pushing around you, peaceful and quiet. You wish you could stay here forever, but you can feel your lungs starting to hurt. You have to kick for a few seconds before you break the surface, sucking in a deep breath as soon as the air touches your face. The sun is too warm, and you stick your tongue out in its direction. Stupid sun.

You swim in the direction of one of the nearest buildings that sticks above the water, enjoying the sound of your legs kicking through the waves. The ocean is mostly calm today, and you can hear the seagulls crying up above you. You navigate your way through the familiar landmarks of rubble and ruin, switching from front crawl to elementary backstroke as your energy rises and falls. Your apartment towers above you, casting a shadow on the water. You think about painting something on the side of it, trying to liven up the plain grey concrete, but that seems like a thought for another day.

It takes a few minutes of swimming to reach the nearest neighboring apartment building, and you pull yourself out of the water onto a shore of concrete.  There isn’t much interesting here, mostly crumbling bricks beginning to reveal the girders underneath. The roof has collapsed in on itself in slabs of concrete that you can pick your way across, avoiding the freshest evidence of seagull passerby. A plant has somehow made its home in one of the sections of brick, some kind of weed with jagged leaves and long tendrils seeking more dirt. One of the birds probably brought it from some faraway patch of land, high enough to avoid the flooding.

You stare at the bright green of its leaves, aware that it must be one of the only living things in the surrounding area. In the end, though, it’s impossible to resist picking it out of the wall, the tendrils clinging desperately to the rough bricks as you separate it from its home.

It’s rubbery in your hands, and you dig your fingernails into the leaves to watch the darker green show up in half-crescents where you tore the skin. You wrap the stem around your fingers, admiring the colour. You think about eating it, moving it towards your mouth, but there’s a mental feeling of someone smacking your hand and you drop the plant with a frown. Your brain is too busy and dumb.

You pick up the plant and move it into a patch of sunlight, hoping that it’ll get eaten by another passing bird. Then its seeds can go somewhere else, maybe even on the roof of your house.

You dive back into the water, daydreaming about having a jungle grow on the roof of your house, the roots becoming part of the apartment walls and the leaves changing colour like you’ve seen in TV shows.

---->

The afternoon passes in a delirious blur of sun and splashing, laughing at your own voice and trying to climb one of the supports of your apartment building before finding the metal too hot from the sun.

Eventually, you pull yourself out of the water and climb up the ladder one rung at a time. You take a last look at the rippling water as you open the door and step into the concrete stairwell up to your apartment.

The inside is dark and cool in contrast to the sun-heated world outside, and you begin to shiver as you make your way into your room. An old towel is in the laundry pile, so you scoop it up and use it to dry yourself off. It smells a little musty, but it does the job fine. The feeling of not-right-not-wrong hits you again as you dry off, and you push it aside more easily this time. Not your problem, and you’re starting to have the feeling that you won’t be here for long. It seems silly to worry about it with the little time you have left.

You get dressed in the nicest clothes you can find: there’s a shirt that seems way too big, and you pull it on before looking at what’s on the front. It’s a silly design with wobbly lines that you can’t put together from upside down, and the shirt hangs almost to your knees. It feels cozy, and you add a pair of boxers to the outfit before deciding it’s good enough for lazing around.

The bed is soft and springy and you settle onto it with a sigh, shoving a pillow into the corner to lean on. The day has been fun, but your shoulders are tired from the swimming and your head hurts from all the sunlight. You snag a pair of sunglasses from the table beside your bed, careful with the points as you fit them onto your face. The world gets darker and you relax, grabbing the nearest soft thing to hold. It’s Hella Jeff in his silly coloured onesie and you laugh at his big eyes, widening your own in an attempt to mimic his expression.

Your tablet is difficult to fish out from under the mattress while you’re sitting on it, and once you turn it on it makes a lot of loud noises at you until you exit the window that was open. My Little Pony is easy to find, and you pull up one of the early episodes before propping the tablet against your feet so that you can watch it while hugging your Hella Jeff plushie and maybe resting your eyes a bit.

You can feel the rest of your brain perking up as soon as the theme song comes on, but it’s your episode to enjoy, so you push everything to the back and sing along with Pinkie Pie, and if you fall asleep before the second episode is over, then there’s no one to tell you it’s too early to sleep and who cares about time anyways.

> Dirk: Wake Up.

You wake up in a tangle of blankets, with your shades half-off and poking into the pillow, and Hella Jeff’s ass in your face. You push him off grumpily and sit up in bed. It’s late, and you fell asleep with the light off, so your room is dark aside from the flashing lights from the various panels scattered on the desks.

You’re hungry, and still groggy from the unexpected nap, and the afternoon feels like a distant dream that could have happened to someone else. You try to prompt that same sense of excitement, the eager curiosity that had taken over for the day, but it feels utterly foreign to your mind. You physically poke yourself, as if that will make the mood re-emerge and take over, but it only makes you very aware that you’re wearing one of your old sleep shirts that you stopped wearing when you were about twelve. You pull it off with an irritated sound, and roll out of bed. Your pounding head demands food and water, and you haven’t checked your messages in seven hours.

The glasses you’re wearing don’t have build-in screens, so you swap them out for another pair once you’ve pulled on a t-shirt that actually fits and shoved some jeans over your boxers. Sure enough, Roxy has finally gotten back to you, and fairly recently.

You start responding to her message as you poke around the cupboards for something that you won’t have to cook. She’s messaged something benign, but you know that she knows that you know that she hasn’t been doing well or she would have messaged back sooner. Hopefully she’s feeling better, but you know from experience that she’s more likely messaging you to start an ill-conceived fight that she can use to rationalize her bad mood and self-isolation.

Having friends is exhausting. You find some packaged ramen and head back to your room, planning to just crush it up and eat it while you finish the episode that you fell asleep half-way through. Roxy is talking again, her words a blur of badly-spelled pink across your vision, and you already feel tired from the conversation. You miss Jake, and how easy he is to please. He won’t be back for another two days, out on some sort of island quest that takes him out of network range. You hope that he’s doing okay out there.

You settle into bed again, sparing a frown at your Hella Jeff plushie as if he was to blame for the entire situation. You hook up your tablet remotely to the TV so that you can properly hear it, and settle in to multitask for the night. This is what you wanted, something outside of yourself to focus on, someone else’s problems to solve, something to fill the hours for you.

But even as you start dissecting the things that Roxy isn’t saying, you find yourself craving that effortless enjoyment you’d felt that afternoon, the way your head had tilted up to the sunlight as if it was a second nature. You have a job to do, to keep everyone on track for a future that only you and Roxy know is waiting. But maybe one day, after everything was over and the game was won, you could take a longer break. Maybe there would be a new world for you to explore, and it would be better than the endless ocean of ruins.

For now, you wrap your arms around yourself and do your best to help Roxy communicate how she’s feeling. Your friends come first, and the future comes later.