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jarmes · 7 months

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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!

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.

#homestuck #homestuck 2 #hsbc #homestuck beyond canon #hs2 #harry anderson egbert #john egbert #dirk strider #homestuck epilogues

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utsugi-ren · 1 year

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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

#Homestuck #Classpects #Classpecting #Classpect #I have autism

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videcoeur · 1 year

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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

#look at me ramble #( ooc. )#thank you for the suggestion!#It just so happens that I've already played most of them lmao

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superbeaucoupdevisages · 2 years

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☕ 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!

#;ic #;In Your Heart: Dirk Strider #chaosmultiverse #;Everything will be answered in time. | Asks

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protecticarus · 4 years

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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

#protecticarus #dghda #fanfiction #dirk gently #todd brotzman #brotzly #dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #fanfic #angst #fluff #feelings realization #prompt fill #fan fic #fan fiction #fic prompt

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marvus-xoloto · 4 years

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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!

#hiveswap #marvus #marvus xoloto

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

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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 ♡

#Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #Sansa x Jon #Jon x Sansa #jonsa

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agerefandom · 4 years

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> 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.

#agere fanfiction #homestuck agere #homestuck regression #fandom agere #regression writing #sfw agere #my fics #american autocorrect is driving me crazy #let me be canadian in peace #for blacklist:#homestuck #dirk strider

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burningthemidnightcityoil · 4 years

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STRANGE TAKE AWAYS FROM HS^2

I know, I know. This is one troll bug attracted to a plush plump ass that has gotten many a homestucker up in a tizzy.

But I am gonna dive head first into it, and brave the many many plump plush rumps.

Inception Mirroring. There is a strange amount of HS and HS^2 Mirroring going on, and the absolute biggest is with Jade. Lemme explain. A Witch’s Journey is about their Familiars, and taking power for or back from them. As a Witch of Space, Jade’s original “Familiar” was Becquerel, and she did take his power and even part of his looks. What started in the Epilogues and has continued further, is that a new (and very much unwanted) familiar has popped up: Calliope. And worse, this relationship between Alt Calliope and Jade mirrors the terrifying relationship of Doc Scratch / Lord English with Witch of Time, Damara / The Handmaid. Even right down to the Suicide Threat... Further Mirror occurs with my so far favorite new character: Yiffy. Or Ruby, if you don’t like the first name. ... Because Ruby and Jane mimics Jack and The Black Queen. And there’s already an Us vs Them war on...

Our new Players How much you wanna bet that Harry, Tavros, Vrissy and Ruby are our missing Human classpects? Thief, Mage, Sylph, Bard and Doom, Rage, Mind, Blood. (Though on the ropes about Vrissy) And I bet you, because of the controversy and contrivance of Ruby (Which is done on purpose), they’re the Rage Player. Harry’s association with creation marks him a Sylph. Vrissy as a Troll already holds the idea of Blood, and she’s already inherited quite a bit from our Vriska. And Tavros; poor sweet Precious Tavros... Holding the Moniker of Doom.

Event Horizons Where Homestuck proper had Doomed Timelines, we here now have “Doomed Spaces”. Which I have dubbed so far as Event Horizons, as these Doomed Spaces get sucked into the Black / White Hole when they “Stop being Canon”. We’re now exploring the opposite side of the Doomed Timeline, and its probably got something to do with Hope (the idea of Narrative Causality and Belief; and what Canon means here)

Messiahs and Wizards Karkat and his entire bloodline is associated with Messiah figures. As Trolls are foundationally Blood Aspected, it would make sense that the prime time chosen one is a Blood Player. This makes John Humanity’s prime time chosen one, as Humans are foundationally Breath Aspected; and better yet, we even have “sacred” Icons in the form of Wizard Statues anyway and everywhere. An Idea spread across the Human Unconscious, as opposed to the very real and legendary figures of Trolls. Mind, that lot of John’s Wizardly associations also bring him into contact with the one major wizardly figure in real world mythology and religion: Odin. (Via the Harlequinn). And our John is dead. Funny thing is... So was Odin, once. Me thinks it won’t stick.

Ultima Dirk Dude, this guy basically ate a lot of his alternative selves. One of which was Bro, one of which was the amalgamation that is Doc Scratch, and that means he definitely had a chunk of Cherub ass that is Lord English. But as Brain Ghost Dirk shows, not all Dirks are about that shit. We still got a chance to knock this doofus out of his dower power trip. If only we knew what the fine fillery fuckery he’s gonna do... Anyway. The Thing and Think about Ultimate selves... is that you gotta take a step back and see this in terms of Video Game Logic. This is what happens when Player Characters become actual Players themselves. Imagine if the dude you’ve RP’d as in Elder Scrolls decided to take a step up and control the narrative himself; and this comes with the caviate of remembering all the times you’ve fucked up and gotten him killed, all the times you’ve decided to just “see what happens”, or even broke character. And that also starts including every Fanfic you’ve written him in, every AU, that one time you put him in Fallout, that other time you threw him in Minecraft. Basically, the very Idea of the Character becomes your Equal. As the SCP foundation would put it... Dirk has started to rise to our Narrative Level, but is just not quite there yet.

Droog and Dad Oh come on, you knew this was gonna show up. We already know this is an alternate universe, and definitely not the intermission one (Especially with Slick’s death), and we now have confirmation that part of Snowman’s powers is to basically teleport across the Multiverse and change things with wild abandon. This... - Gives an explanation as to how and why the Felt can teleport Timelines without accidentally dooming themselves like our God Heroes can and do. - Means that Snowman can outright manipulate full timelines without having to touch the Alpha, and do so for as long as she possibly wants. - Further proves Snowman is a Sylph of Mind (Because only Mind Players go that deep into shit and have Multiverse powers) As for what’s going on in the background... - Droog left the Midnight Crew, because apparently Slick started to get majorly involved with Snowman (Possibly even romantically rather than hatredly). As there are plenty of Literary parallels between Snowman and Droog (For one thing, they both say “Hey Assholes”), this is almost like choosing your lover over your best friend. - Droog is a manifestation of Moiraillegence, which Alternia Trolls associate with Pity (Rather than, y’know, real empathy and support); Of Course the asshole is gonna be Self Pitying. - This story displays a reality of what would happen if Droog had left. As the HC’d Mage of Blood, and Blood being about Bonds, Attachments, and Promises: This would seriously fuck Droog up (Because he is all about that shit; and here his closest allies dumped on him hard). [ This is all likely purposely set up by Snowman; she put him in a position to leave; something we know that not even a genocide of Carapacians can force DD to do ]

Roxy I’ve been nicknaming him Roxas

The Fear of Two Calliopes The reason Meat side Calliope is probably freaking out bad, is because the appearance of Alt Calliope in the same space is real bad news. Paradox Space doesn’t like Doubles, Triples, Quadrupals of anything; (See the major battle of Jack Noirs that ended in all but one Dead) Our Calliope runs a very real risk of dying horribly, because Alt Calliope as a fully realized Muse of Space is uber powerful and will absolutely trump her in the balance of Paradox Space “No two of the same thing will inhabit the same space”.

Fear of the Prince Ever wonder why Dirk is terrified of his quasi-Grandchild? Ruby is a Rage Player, and depending on her Class (probably a Thief?), she’s gonna be a major problem. After all, Dirk’s created Narrative is full of bullshit; and there’s no player better to handle narrative bullshit than a Rage Player (What is a God to a Nonbeliever?) Rage is perfect when you’re going up against hostile or bullshit narratives and their equally assholish narrators. Blood may be Reality, Doom maybe the Ultimate Reality, Void is the Physical Reality, Heart is the Emotional Reality... but Rage is Reality as it actually is-- random, not always having an explaination, and its never a straightforward story narrative; Rage is Real in the sense that we, the audience, naturally experience it and hate to see it written down (because natural experience as it is, never makes sense written down unless it plays out like a Story or Narrative) Life is confusing, its not fair, it doesn’t make sense. That is Rage (and is also the reason why Life is Rage’s reflection and vice versa). And Rage will pull that reality to the forefront.

#homestuck #homestuck^2

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keiratheraven · 4 years

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Bentley 8 Squad: Forgive and Heal

(I dedicated this post for this October AKA Mental Health Awareness month)

Every member of the Bentley 8 Squad has a dark past. All of them were problematic in their late teen or early young adult years.

Angela Pleasant (Bentley Queen). The miss “perfect”. She was a queen bee, cheerleader captain, honor student, and the girl squad leader. Her parents (Daniel and Mary-Sue Pleasant) put pressure on her to be the flawless daughter. She dedicated herself to become “The Perfect Princess”, but actually she thinks she’ll never be good enough. But she didn’t tell anyone about her battle with Bulimia, and no one believed her when she said there’s something wrong with her body. Everyone just said it’s just bad cramps, nothing more. Then she was diagnosed with Endometriosis at age 19. Although she was surrounded by many people, No one understands her pain and struggles. She's pursuing a master's degree in psychology from Sim State and has the ambition to become a psychologist, but her conditions keep restraining her.

Lilith Pleasant (Bentley Gothic). The black sheep of the family. Daniel and Mary-Sue favored Angela over her and abused her. They didn’t teach her to talk, walk, and use the toilet. They blamed her for everything. They liked to and slap and yell at her. She and Angela also hated each other and they’re always fighting every day. One time, Lilith ran away from their house because she couldn’t take it anymore. But eventually, the police found her and took her home. Since then, Daniel and Mary-Sue treat her better and Angela apologized to her, but later on, she was diagnosed with Type 1 Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. She pours all her emotions into arts and music, then took the art major at Sim State because her dream is to become a rock singer and illustrator at once. But her fluctuating moods and her addiction to self-harm make her questioning the future.

Dustin Broke (Bentley Rogue). The delinquent criminal. The death of his father and the way he died made him mad at the world. He took over his late father’s position as the man of the house and eventually became a criminal to support his family. But his mother became an alcoholic who liked to beat him up and throw an open bottle of alcohol at him. He also has substance abuse after he became a drug dealer. One time when he was in his college dorm at Foxbury, he sent Gordon King into boiling rage after he told him that he spent the drug-selling money for gambling besides his tuition, and Gordon beat the shit out of him mindlessly. Because of his drug addiction, he was diagnosed with Mild Schizophrenia. Sometimes, he thinks he’s already wasted. He doesn’t get enough sleep every night and always looking at the ceiling while he lies on the bed.

Dirk Dreamer (Bentley Brain). The genius, nerdy guy. He always put a good effort to do well in his life. He was an honor student in high school. But the death of his mother really shocked him, and his grades took a downfall. Eventually, he rose to make his late mother proud and his grades back to the top. Although he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at age 16, he keeps studying hard and he got a scholarship to Sims University Medical School. He became the assistant lecturer of Dr. Worthington. But, not everyone admires him. The son of Dr. Worthington named Dr. Mark punched him hard when he was alone after finishing a class. He said that Dirk will never take over his place as a devoted medical student in their faculty because his father kept comparing him with Dirk. Dirk keeps it to himself and he never told Dr. Worthington. Although he wants to become a psychiatrist to recover his beloved seven friends, He almost gave up as a doctor because of his illness. He muses about it every night when he's alone because he has to act as a strong, resilient young doctor in front of everyone.

Ophelia Nigmos (Bentley Flower). The mysterious and anxious girl who was desperate for a family. Her parents died when she was ten, and she was raised by an (allegedly) murderer aunt. She was haunted by many ghosts in her near-graveyard house, and Aunt Olive wasn’t the nicest person to be around with. She liked to scold her over the smallest things. She was cold and indifferent to her. One time, she humiliated Ophelia in front of her high school. Many people looked at them, but Ophelia couldn’t do anything to hide the shame. It caused her to have Anxiety and Paranoid personality disorders. Because of this, Ophelia is always anxious when she has to talk in front of many people, so she dreamed to become a novelist and songwriter. Eventually, Aunt Olive died when she was attending La Fiesta Tech. Ophelia mourned her death, but the wounds that Olive gave to her aren’t easy to forget.

Puck Summerdream (Bentley Fancy). The lucky fairy guy who was adopted by loving parents and also a kid sister. He didn’t want to get involved with Capp-Monty feuds in Veronaville and always be kind to them. He also had a crush on Hermia Capp, who became his girlfriend after they kissed for the first time at Puck’s party. But Mercutio Monty didn’t like it and got mad at them. The next day, he beat Puck's ass and took his money at the schoolyard. "That’s for stealing my girlfriend", he said. Puck hid his feelings and cried when he got home. Later on, he attended Academie Le Tour with Hermia. He took double majors: music and mathematics cause his dream is to become a classical musician. But, a tragedy struck. Hermia got shot in a mass shooting and died when she was buying heart medications for Puck. Puck fell into a Major Depression, and his heart condition got worse. Years have passed, but he couldn’t forget her despite many women want him.

Ripp Grunt (Bentley Clown). The tragic hyperactive joker. His mother died when he was eleven, and he was raised by the disciplined-yet-abusive General Buzz Grunt. Buzz liked to punch him when he didn’t obey him, and his brother, Tank Grunt, used him as his punching bag. One time, Tank threatened him to tell Buzz about Ripp’s bisexuality just because Tank didn’t like that Ripp partnered with his crush, Anna, at the school lab. But Ripp never showed his real feelings, except for Ophelia and Johnny. He smiled, joked, and laughed a lot, but actually, deep down he’s crying. He cries a lot and is also tortured by loneliness when he’s alone, but he keeps hiding his feelings by “The Funny Guy” mask. Despite the abuse of his father and brother, Ripp has the talent to entertain others by acting, singing, and play the guitar, so he took the drama major at Britechester. He suffers from ADHD, and gastritis caused by the longtime stress of the abuse. He misses his mom so much and always musing about her.

Johnny Smith (Bentley Leader). The carefree green guy. He was happy. Being the “normal” family in “abnormal” alien descent made him proud of his heritage. Despite having green skin, Johnny was so confident. He’s a sporty jock guy who likes to exercise, play soccer or basketball. He tried so hard to fit in at his high school and every surrounding. His neighbors see him no differently, except Buzz and Tank Grunt. He and Tank always fighting with each other in high school, but it didn’t affect Johnny’s happy life. Then, one night changed everything. When he was 18 and attending as a freshman at La Fiesta Tech, he got attacked by nine people and stabbed on his abdomen due to a hate crime against alien sims. When his blood ran down, the culprits threw him into the smelly and filthy dumpster. He fell into a coma, but luckily for him to have alien blood, he recovered very quickly and regained consciousness after five days. But since then, he has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. He got Minor Depression and having suicidal thoughts as well.

However, everything gets better when all of them get together. They’re having medical treatments for their mental and physical condition, counseling, and group therapies. They’re completing each other and have special bonds. Their stories might be different, but that’s what makes them united besides their love for Bentley cars. Together, they learn to be stronger, nicer, wiser and be a better person. They also want to recover from their past traumas through medications and strong friendships.

In the end, they learn to let go and forgive everything in their pasts. They realized it’s useless to blame themselves, and everything happens for a reason. Because the past doesn’t define who they are. Trauma might be hard, but eventually, they have to face them instead of avoiding them. That’s the meaning of growing up, healing the wounded souls, and moving on. They never stopped chasing their dreams despite their disabilities and keep supporting each other just like a real family.

And it was an early fall in Bridgeport, Sim City. At the anniversary of their establishment of Bentley 8 and Im-perfection community, they decided to go to a resort. They had some fun there. Angela made grilled salmon and cheesesteak for their lunch. Johnny and Dirk played soccer. Meanwhile, Ripp, Dustin, Ophelia, Lilith, and Puck roasted some marshmallows. When they are together, They’re creating memories because tomorrow is never guaranteed. But, no matter what happens tomorrow, they are grateful to still have each other.

"The past can't haunt me if I don't let it

Live and learn and never forget it

Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Learn to let go, learn to let go

Learn to let go" - Kesha, 2017

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thelifeknight · 3 years

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i watched sarah z’s 413 video (and a 413 retrospective)

from what i read there’s a lot of info sarah left out, likely out of just not realizing that so many members of the hiveswap team (former and current) were ready and willing to share their stories with her. it seems she’s made updates in the comments of the video so basically all i’m going on is that update and the video, because i have very little knowledge of the HS goings on from 2016-2020. most of this diatribe won’t be about that or even sarah’s video, just musings from the other day.

413 this year was exponentially larger than last year’s in my opinion, i don’t know if that’s just my experience having revived my enjoyment of the comic in mid-late 2020 or if there was genuinely more content this year. i think a lot of the people who made nostalgia art for 413 this year are entirely unaware of all the stuff mentioned on sarah’s video, because a lot of it was slow burn stuff and so many fans basically left around 2015 and only come back once a year for fanart. but when i looked at a lot of the current creators for HS content, specifically youtubers still doing analytical content for HS, there was very mixed reception for a video full of fandom and official mistakes thrown back at them. paulsrockintwit, a voice actor known in the HS fanbase for being the voice of karkat in let’s read homestuck, seemed quite upset at the primary source used in the video being someone who’s hurt members of the community in the past, while bigfunkyj merely saw the video as a reflection of things she already knew and lamented about the fanbase and future of HS, even claiming she’d stop making homestuck videos altogether. optimisticduelist, likely the most popular HS video creator right now and somebody who worked on HS2, had nothing to say about the video. in a way, it really sucks seeing a 413 so full of nostalgia also be the end of some creators’ investment in the franchise and even being a cause of stress for some. the end of sarah’s video has a bitter note to it, not even bittersweet, and it made me wish some things were different.

i haven’t read HS2 or the epilogues, and i don’t really plan on it. the creative decisions just sound like too much for me to get invested in, my dyslexic ass doesn’t wanna read walls of text with no images, and i’d rather preserve the characters as i knew them in the original comic. but i do know what happens because i’m nosy and i both skimmed some of it and read detailed synopses. that isn’t to say that EVERYTHING in HS2 is bad or that i only care about the sanctity of the original comic--i quite like genderfluid roxy and the idea of interpersonal conflicts persisting and escalating after the Big Bad lord english has been defeated makes sense. i also think dirk’s arc, while depressing and not well-executed, seems to be a logical next step if you were to take his arc further. he’s been haunted by his splinters, so why not just merge them all into one really bad dude who hates himself even more than before? and from what i read, i really like characters like tavros crocker, vrissy, harry, and yes, even yiffany. unfortunate names and circumstances aside, i think the HS2 writing team really thrives when they have new concepts and characters to introduce. it’s obvious that these people had homestuck OCs back in the day and, now that they’re fans with essentially the thumbs up from hussie to make something real and canon, they kinda got let loose. too loose, but loose nonetheless. the art is inconsistent, but the highs are really nice. if the writers and artists got to do something truly original with the homestuck IP attached to it but no VIZ/WP/hussie interference, i think that they could do something really special.

this is when i get to my next point; the “i wish” section. i... REALLY wish HS2 was not homestuck. i wish john, rose, jade, dave, karkat, terezi, roxy, dirk, jane, jake, and everyone else just got to be done after the snapchat epilogues. the slight cliffhanger with terezi searching for vriska and encountering something weird is just enough to give the writers of future HS content something to work with, but i wish they just didn’t touch this, and instead chose to tackle it in a more creative way. explain this plot with a new cast or with another method, and let the HS characters have their happy ending; i don’t need to know about jane’s new life as a fascist or jade’s... anatomy.

but you know what i’d like to see more of? SBURB. yep, the game they finished. the SBURB we saw, more specifically all the different versions of it, were truly worst-case scenarios of the game. we know that the game propagates its own existence, and we also know it has certain ties to lord english, but we don’t really know exactly how far it goes. was SBURB only in existence for lord english’s purposes, or is it more like a juju; something that has always existed and will always exist with no real reason, path, or end? it’s implied that the horrorterrors once played the game, but were they always eldritch monsters? or is that what countless years of godhood turned them into? can we see a version of SBURB where OTHER things go wrong and the characters have to scratch, but they don’t have the green sun so they have to find another way to escape being erased? can we see a version of SBURB where things go horribly wrong but they somehow fix their session?? alchemy is a big part of SBURB, but in a universe without sylladexes, do they still have that feature? can we see a version of SBURB where some of the characters live together, and how that affects planet formations? can we PLEASE see other SBURB sessions? it might be just me, but the concept of seeing more of the CORE MECHANIC OF THE COMIC with different circumstances and characters is absolutely enticing. i read a lot of stuff on MSPFA and the way authors weave their ideas about SBURB into their stories is better than anything post-canon could offer. i do not CARE about earth C or its politics, not in the slightest, but i do care about all these unanswered questions about the universe. if we allowed fans to basically bring their fanventures to life, it could invite new fans who don’t wanna binge 8000 pages of comic all at once, as well as entice old fans into experiencing what made them love HS again. this paragraph kinda got away from me but i feel really passionate about this.

hiveswap and the popular fancomic vast error manage to capture the charm of homestuck in different ways, without the use of SBURB. they rely on people wanting to see more trolls or wanting to see another reality-altering game with new rules and players. they have specific gimmicks that make them appealing to HS readers without relying on preexisting characters. the dialogue in HS2 can read very stilted, like they’re trying to replicate hussie’s writing, but if they were let loose with their own characters, they could get away with it a lot more. hiveswap and vast error can be enjoyed without complete knowledge of homestuck. they can expand on the universe of homestuck without SBURB, only because they leave the characters of homestuck alone. we spent 800k words with the homestuck characters, i don’t need more of them. too many of them had arcs that finished completely satisfactorily, so the best that post-canon content could do was either 1)finish up arcs that were left unfinished, or 2)find another subject to talk about. they opted for the third, worse option; twist the characters into unrecognizable tools for the narrative who spout walls of text without saying much of anything at all. and this isn’t strictly the writers’ faults, supposedly they had an outline of what hussie wanted them to accomplish in the sequel and it was up to them to put it together. it’s a collaborative effort of all parties that fucked this thing up, and it’s left the fanbase in a worse position than it’s ever been in.

and this makes me sad as an old fan who wanted to get back into things and see all this new content that was made and find out what the fanbase was up to during the 4 years i was gone. but all i found is a few animatics for characters i barely recognized and a sequel everybody told me not to read. i think if HS branched out into letting the fans make official works taking place in the universe but with mostly their own ideas, SBURB or no SBURB, it could cultivate the exact scenario that hussie has in his mind while he doesn’t have to associate with an IP he clearly hates now. he could go make stuff he likes like psycholonials or a... idk a horse dating sim idk what that guys up to but! he could leave HS in the hands of a few artists and writers he trusts and understand that homestuck, now more than ever, has to be out of his hands. it seems like that’s what he’s wanted to do for so long, and there’s dozens if not HUNDREDS of amazing fans who do work for FREE inspired by HIM and would absolutely love for it to get recognized in an official and financial capacity. of course, i don’t know how things like legal issues and IP laws would stand up because of VIZ’s involvement in it all, but if both VIZ and whatpumpkin could keep their damn hands off of these new works and just let the whole thing get funded by some patreons, AH could rake in IP cash while directly funding artists to essentially make fanventures. that’s the only way i see HS being revived in any capacity at this point.

but as it stands, i have to agree with sarah z; i don’t think HS2 is coming back. hiveswap will continue to drip-feed itself out due to a legal obligation from that 2012 kickstarter, but if i have to be honest, i don’t see a sequel series happening. unless there’s a serious reevaluation over what homestuck is and it manages to create a clear line between canon and post-canon--and keep any company’s reach away from my hypothetical fan-sequels that will definitely never exist--homestuck might as well be dead in the water. hussie clearly wants to separate himself from the series, and i hope for his sake he does, and i really hope that it fizzles out now and doesn’t attempt to revive again unless it gets a grip.

i have a friend who wants to get into homestuck. she asked, so i told her about the unofficial archive and said “if you wanna read it, that’s your best post-2020 option.” on the off-chance that she reads it, likes it, and then finishes it, i hope to keep the post-canon content mostly away from her. but it sucks to realize that she’ll never read HS the way i read it. the fanworks that so many creators have since separated themselves from, the upd8 culture, the best and worst of the fans, the hype of every new page, the time-sensitive in-jokes, and the gigantic pauses are all just relics of when old fans read it. i see younger people reading it for the first time now and enjoying it a lot, and it gives me hope that it’s not just some relic from the 2010s that millennials and old gen zs will have to see die out, that it might be something that 14 year olds will always read and look back on thinking “that was pretty good.” the comic is good! i liked it when i reread it! but i have no faith in the future and wish we could get any semblance of proper closure.

#homestuck #meta #wow. this was a long one #i think i got it more or less all out of my system #there's a lot that i could say still but i'll keep it at this #putting in the main tags knowing that no one's gonna read 9 paragraphs of run-on sentences and no structure #with the unofficial archive i can still recommend HS to people who i think might like it but i shutter at the thought of what it's become #kthxbyeeeee

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tierstuck-aesthetic · 4 years

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Requesting? Start here!

This is not a kin blog, but I’m happy to do things for the god tiers of the characters involved in any kin-oriented requests! DON’T: “Can I get a Dirk Strider moodboard?” DO: “Can I get a Prince of Heart moodboard with some Dirk Strider themes?”

Your requests can have 18+ themes, but they will be marked with the “adult” tag so anyone unwilling can filter them out! I’m 20, so I don’t have any problems with that kinda stuff! If your request has to do with r*pe, inc*st, or p*dophillia, I will refuse the request; just letting you know not to waste your time trying for it. (This also means that if it has to do with a pairing from a separate fandom, I will be looking up the characters to make sure!!!)

I’m one person who struggles with some mental illnesses, so please be patient with me if it ends up taking a while to get to your requests!

For stimboards and self cares, I’ll try to remember to give credit for everything and provide links to my sources, but for moodboards I’m generally just grabbing things off of google. I will be trying to avoid most drawing types of art, but if you either find your images here or find an image you wanna find for yourself, shoot me a message! I’m also willing to accommodate for a new image if you don’t want me to use yours! If you see something I use and you know that the source person doesn’t like their work reposted/would rather have credit given, the same thing applies! I’m willing to cooperate so there isn’t a need to get hostile.

I will not be opening any mod applications. I’ve had bad experiences in the past that I’d rather not repeat. This is my blog and it will only ever be my blog. If that means I end up with a billion things in the inbox, so be it. I work from the oldest request up, so everything will be done eventually.

If you need me to tag anything (trypophobia, slime, hands, etc.) just let me know in either an ask or through private messages! I have problems with trypophobia and misophonia myself so I totally understand it!

Please keep things to one request per ask! I don’t mind you flooding my inbox with a bunch of requests if it means I can clearly understand one thing from another and thus make sure I can make what you want me to!

If I reply to your request saying that I can’t do it for whatever lack of information (not specifying what you want, giving me a fanon classpect, etc), please resend the entire ask with the added information I need! I work from the bottom of the ask box up and, usually, by the time I get to your second ask, the old one was buried under the ones I did between the answer and the new ask. It makes it easier on me to keep things going smooth and quick if I don’t have to search for your previous ask!

You guys can call me Nova! I’m a prospitbound, tealblood Prince of Space and I love making people smile with my work! My pronouns are they/them!

DISCLAIMER: You may notice on my Spotify when I do playlists that I already have a lot of them, and that my style for moodboards are the same as Mod Zeros from the fairly popular blog god-tier-aesthetics (not tagging for personal reasons). I’ll admit that, yes, I am Zeros. I don’t want to be associated with Mod Spacey anymore, so I left that blog to get away from faer. If you’re one of the other mods from that blog, feel free to interact! But I don’t want anything to do with Spacey anymore and thus I made this blog to continue doing what I love to do. And to anyone coming here from that blog that may find the transition from Zeros to Nova challenging: I’ll respond to either one just fine. I’m going by Nova here to help reduce the connection to god-tier-aesthetics for new people to my blog.

Links!!

What can I do?

Classpect Analysis Masterpost - NO LONGER IN SERVICE

Stim & Mood Board Guildlines

Discord Server

Where I get most of* my sprites

*Page sprites are not from here. For some reason people don’t like keeping a mass collection of the Tavros or Jake sprites for the Page god tier, so I had to scavenge around a lot of blogs and websites to get a hold of all 12 aspects. Lord and Muse sprites are from here!

#rules #info #intro #homestuck #homestuck aesthetic #homestuck moodboard #homestuck stimboard #homestuck sprite edit #homestuck playlist #homestuck god tier #homestuck analysis #homestuck icon #homestuck self care

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wepreeshjohnegbert · 4 years

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The Complete Tragedy of Lord Egbert

Your feedback has inspired me to craft an entire story for Evil!John so here you go.

After the game, John Egbert tries to go back to living a normal life, only to discover that he can’t. He’s literally worshipped everywhere he goes, so just living in a normal house is out. He tries to distract himself from that by hanging out with his friends, but he can’t help but feel like he’s third wheeling. Between Rose and Kanaya being all lovey dovey and Dave and Karkat always being this fucking close to just kissing already, John can’t help but feel awkward. Even Jade never seems to fully focus on him. He figures he shouldn’t hold it against them and decides to make new friends instead.

This similarly doesn’t work out. Vriska is now focusing on patching things up with Terezi, while the other trolls just show no interest in him. The Alpha kids are similarly focused on fixing their relationship kerfuffle, not to mention Jane’s Dad tends to bring up painful memories, causing John to spontaneously leave. John eventually decides to isolate himself, figuring that his friends will visit once everything is in order, but it never happens. He’s still invited to parties and such, but he’s always just… there. He’s hardly even acknowledged or talked too. No one pays him any mind.

Constantly neglected, John is just left to fester. His old life and everything he enjoyed doing is gone. Gone. Gone forever. Every second of every day forces that thought to sink in. He’s left staring out the window and pondering. Everyone else got a happy ending, why not him?

He decides to fix it. Using his Retcon Powers to mess with Doomed Timelines, he tries to see if it’s possible to get a happy ending. It is…. but not without screwing over someone else. There are timelines where he and his friends talk daily, only for most of the trolls to die. Timelines where he ends up friends with everyone, only for Dave or Dirk to end up neglected. Each time he thinks “No, I can’t do that. That wouldn’t be fair to them.” He eventually settles on trying to find a way for everyone to get a happy ending and goes scouring Paradox Space for an answer. The conclusion he comes to is that he needs to control the narrative so that everyone lives happily ever after and begins planning to accomplish just that. It’s only after studying as much of Paradox Space as possible that he puts his plan into action.

Knowing that his friends wouldn’t approve of his upcoming actions, he decides to distract them to keep them out of the way. He just occasionally sinks a city or obliterates and a planet with a storm to keep their attention. It’s okay, once he controls the narrative, he’ll just undo it. No harm done. In the meantime, he travels across the multiverse gathering as many heroes as he can. Whether they be random players (“Hey, I’m John Egbert, Hero of the Multiverse! And I need your help!”) Or alternate versions of himself (“I’m you from the future! No time to explain! Follow me to the secret basevand join the resistance against evil!”). He also begins gathering up some of Caliborn’s followers. He claims to be Lord English, having possessed John as a last ditch effort to survive his death. In order to never be defeated again, he needs his followers to gather up various JuJu artifacts to increase his power.

Eventually, he sends his Heroes against a Lord of Breath, claiming him to be a threat to the Multiverse. They defeat him and lock him away, giving John opportunity to use his JuJus to absorb his powers. With newfound power, John adopts the moniker Lord Egbert, mostly as a front to appease the LE worshippers. Lord Egbert promises his newly dubbed Egbert Armada that he’ll gather them all again once another threat to the Multiverse is found and then orders LE’s apostles too gather more JuJus. He repeats the process continuously, absorbing the powers of several Lords and Muses with intent on becoming the most powerful being in Paradox Space, strong enough to eventually bend the narrative to his will.

Eventually, some of the more cosmically aware players in his session, such as Aradia, Terezi, and Rose, become increasingly aware of something related to breath becoming dangerously powerful in the outskirts of Paradox Space. As such, John needs to step up his distractions. He find the ancient Beforan Empire and starts pulling strings. Playing to Beforan Feferi’s ego, claiming she’s the only one “kind” and “wise” enough to show humans the way. Meanwhile, he frames Beforus for the atrocities he commited in the Alpha Timeline and leaves them to sort things out. After all, Beforus is huge, but it’s no Alternia. They’ll only last so long against a bunch of God Tiers.

Eventually, Dave figures out something is wrong with John and confronts him, leading to a similar scene to the one you dipected. Dave travels back in time to meet up with John before he starts slipping into his funk and the two begin gathering up players from past, present, and future to defeat Lord Egbert. Will they succeed? Or will Lord Egbert get his Happily Ever After?

Personality wise, I’d compare Lord Egbert to Hank Scorpio from The Simpsons. Kindly chatting up a friend and colleague one minute, blowing up bridges the next. Look up the episode “You Only Move Twice” or even just Hank Scorpio to see what I’m talking about. He’s hilarious, friendly, and utterly ruthless in equal measure.

In conclusion, Homestuck^2 would’ve been better if John Egbert was the main villain, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

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Mod Sky: DUDE OH MY GOSH I NEED THIS TO BE A THING I NEED THIS TO BE A THING - FANFIC OR COMIC OR OTHER, I LOVE IT!

Dude.. christ, this is absolutely amazing! Not only did you give a method to HOW he’d to ultimate BUT you also gave him a strategy to do it all!! You also gave him a sad backstory AND good..ish morals to stand by, dude you achieved it ALL here! I cannot stop going back and rereading things, gosh.. Like the comparison to Hank is amazing, at first I couldn’t remember so I had to look it up but as soon as I saw the dude’s face I knew and gosh dang it dude you’re correct.

There’s so much I can say but I’m gonna be honest; I want John to win. I’m not biased! As much as I love John and just automatically want him to succeed, I want him to win because I want a bad guy to win for once, they have their reasons just as much as good guys do so why not? Besides, it would make for a GREAT story, don’t you think?

I would like to personally thank you for this evil!John anon, for writing this all out and for sending it to us I preesh it SO much honestly! If you can make something of this I would be on it in a FLASH, I swear! So thank you so much.

P.S. I love the name Lord Egbert! It’s.. perfection :D

EDIT: This post was NOT submitted by me, it was submitted by Evil!John Anon!! I don’t know why it says me

#preesh submission #homestuck #john egbert #evil!john anon #mod sky #evil!john #LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AN AMAZING CONCEPT!!#i am SO sorry it took me so long to get this out trust me i wanted this out MUCH sooner but things got in the way #and i wanted to give you a good response too!!#i wish i could respond to every little thing but MAN that would get SO long #just.. the fact that you'd bring beforus into this too.. and allow john to get so powerful and have his own army..#evil!john anon i love you #i really do #i wanna give you a big hug dude #i am just SO happy you came here honestly i am SO happy dude!! my lil john blog's attracted some GREAT concepts!!#dude i really preesh you i preesh you so much #i love this i love this #mod fav #huge preesh #BOOM #i also didn't want to take up TOO much of the spotlight with my reply because this is your work so :D #OH YEAH DUDE BY THE WAY I LOVE HOW YOU CALLED YOURSELF THE EVIL!JOHN ANON THAT IS AMAZING #long post #text post #like.. imagine lord jake english meeting lord egbert.. just.. imagine that *eyes emoji*#submission #i'm so sorry evil!john anon i'm so sorry #i hope i didn't do anything wrong?? i literally have no idea why it says that..#first ever submission aaahhh.. D:#okay now it says submitted by anonymous on mobile?? tumblr please fix yourself

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