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heartaspects · 3 years ago

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Listen. Look okay listen. I'm going to be incredibly honest with you. I unironically think that the way Homestuck presents Dave's relationship with his brother, and it's depiction of abuse, is actually one of the best portrayals of abuse in modern media. Especially coming from the perspective of what it's like being an abuse victim coming to terms with what you were experiencing being abuse.

Because when you grow up with that? It's incredibly normalized. And Dave's presented at both an age and an environment where his entire world view is to laugh off discomfort. It's not that he's uncomfortable, he's not ALLOWED to be uncomfortable, it's that he just does not get the layer of irony that his brother is on. And the way the comic frames abuse. Like obviously I don't think hussie intended to actually do a serious abuse narrative from the start, but as a result of that, the way people interacted with it as an abuse narrative feels more sincere then actual stories that set out to explore abuse and the effect of it on the psyche. Like people laughed it off, and it matches how Dave views his own situation perfectly, and it's only in hindsight how you look at it and go. Ohhh. Wait that was fucked up huh.

And just. Ugh the way the comic handles Dave's complex relationship with his brother as a result of his abuse. Dave is a character that, I would argue, so badly wants to love. His defining characteristic is his loyalty to his friends. Even the moments where he talks about how he doesn't love his brother, you can feel the hesitation and uncertainty in it. And those complex feelings just works so well. I think one of the biggest sins the fandom has when exploring Dave's relationship to his home life and brother, is making him sincerely and unironically hate his brother. I think. I think Dave wants to hate his brother way more than he actually does, because even with the knowledge of how poorly he was treated and how he didn't deserve to grow up in that environment? He still cannot get rid of what he wanted from his brother, because Dave just loves to a fault. Dirk was good not only for Dave, but for the fandoms perspective into Bro. And I could just go on and on...

Ugh. Ugh. Sorry to just pop off in your dms, stranger. I was already in a meta introspective mood, and your tags lit something in me. I hope you're having a good day, and take this as an invitation to pop off as well. Whether you agree or not, LMAO.

I AGREE WITH YOU 100%. regarding hussie's intent: id say 50/50. hussie knows what they're doing. that's where i like to start hs discussion. hs treats its serious moments as jokes. gamzee, the dancestors, alpha dave and rose, JAKE, etc. tragedy and comedy blend on purpose. and it's to make fun of us. and be Edgy. look, just expect pain to be written as funny.

the framing and dave's pov made the situation fly over heads. like you said, abused children consider their abuse as normal as washing the dishes. dave knew nothing but his bro for 13 years. you can see the insincerity in the way he talks about his home life. he was in survival mode. act 2 dave is lying to you.

"bro is cool it's just how he is no one GETS IT ok its not like that its not" - dave strider. we dont know 100% how dave regarded him but--imo--his view on heroism and interactions with dirk betray he wanted his brother to love him. disdain comes, but it took processing time. that was mistaken as everything being a-ok. hs releasing over years probably made the reveal feel sudden and uncalled for despite the evidence of dave's mounting discomfort peeking through his façade. hes a knight, man, if you believe him when he says everything is under control you totally fell for it.

i think youre right when you say the verbal confirmation of dave's abuse caused polarization because it was realistic. "hussie threw it in cheaply" "it was never implied in the text" "the fanbase is pushing it" etc etc. it couldve been handled better, but dave's background struggle with it is present in his pesterlogs.

i'm not even going to start on how refusing to acknowledge bro's abuse impacts reading dirk and dave's relationship as a whole. ignoring it takes away a massive part of what makes them so important to each other. that's a post for another day if society wants to hear me ramble, but dirk-likers who defend bro because he's dirk are honestly doing dirk a disservice. even DIRK is well aware of what he's capable of. we're talking about a destroyer class with a genius, cunning mind who was influenced by an erratically violent hellpuppet. there is no way he was a "cool brother".

tldr; the proof of bro's mistreatment is everywhere. dont make me get the image

#tw abuse #long post #striderthinking has been my job for many years #i have so much to say about them always all the time #just dont fall for it ok dave and dirk are liars #they dont have it under control. they arent ok. if they tell you they are they arent #.txt #dave #bro

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ectogeo-rebubbles · 4 years ago

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Thanks for the tag @sapphosewrites!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

I’m tagging @the-last-dillards @asgardian--angels @damnhardwork @judiops @mustangsjoeka and anyone else who wants to! Just tag me in your post so I can see it ^_^

All right, here goes:

1. Garak’s hand accidentally brushed across the touch-sensitive plant, and the petals began to bloom and unfurl. Just as easily as Julian had made him bloom last night.

2. Kira quickly divided the officers into groups based on where they happened to be currently standing in Ops, and assigned each group a runabout to head to. She told them to self-organize into smaller groups or pairs and split off as they went, so they could cover more ground on their way to their ultimate destination.

3. “Eddington to Bashir and Garak. It’s taking longer than we thought. You’ll have to stall for another 10 minutes or so.”

4. The door slid open, and Keiko welcomed them in. “Molly, Auntie Nerys is here!—Thank you so much, both of you!” Keiko said, turning back to Kira and Jadzia.

5. Gunshots rang out.

6. Julian was lying on his back, with Kukalaka tucked under his arm and pressed tightly to his chest. One of Garak’s arms was draped across Julian and Kukalaka, and one of his legs was tangled in between Julian’s. Garak’s nose was nuzzled into the side of Julian’s neck, and the fine hairs of his mammalian lover moved with each of Garak’s breaths.

7. Lwaxana was disappointed to find Garak’s Clothiers closed. She desperately needed a wedding dress, and none of her previous ones would fit, as she had never gotten married while so very pregnant, except for once during a traditional Betazed ceremony where she hadn’t worn anything at all.

8. Dear Elim, Miles was recording goodbye messages for his family again. Just in case we don't, you know, make it. He asked if I ever recorded messages like that for my parents and I just had to laugh at that.

9. He awoke to Jadzia kissing him, something that was normally limited to his dreams. Including the dream he’d just been having... He hadn't had too many dreams like this about her recently, but his unconscious brain unfortunately didn’t really give him a say about which of his friends he would imagine kissing as he slept.

10. As Odo patrolled the Promenade, he noticed that the lights were on in Garak’s shop. That didn’t make sense. Garak was almost as particular about his schedule as Odo was. It was one of the things he appreciated about him most. Yet his shop was open long after closing time.

11. Garak stood in the threshold to the airlock, with Julian looking up at him. “These are for you,” Julian said, holding out the small silver box.

12. Julian was sprawled across his couch, reading from the PADD on his lap. It was almost, but not quite, time to head to the Replimat to meet up with Garak for lunch, and in the meantime he was working diligently on consuming the terribly dense book Garak had given to him last week.

13. I was lying on the roof of the ectobiology lab, looking for the silhouettes of horrorterrors against the background of the furthest ring, the subtle places where their completely unlit forms blocked out the total absence of light. There were no stars in view, and no dream bubbles nearby so the darkness was as piercingly clear as it would ever get.

Okay, lots of passive voice, lots of descriptions of a static scene, lots of in medias res. Very little dialogue as opening lines. The openings for my fics set in specific episodes are my weakest. I always find it hard to strike the right balance of how much setup to do in episode fix-its/missing scene fics, bc I worry about rehashing so much of the episode that it’s boring for you to read (and, more importantly, boring for me to write) and at the same time I worry about jumping straight into the episode events such that everyone is confused because they needed some reminders of context lol

My favorite opening is definitely 8, although 1 and 13 are also up there lol. I feel like 8 and 1 do a good job of setting the tone of the fics, and the opening of 13 (my homestuck fic lol) just amuses me, but I don’t expect anyone else to like it as much as I do haha

#first lines tag game #long post #my writing #my fic

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disworl · 5 years ago

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Alive, indefinitely.

So, since I’ve been dutifully informed that since this is my blog and I can post hwhatever I want, I thought I’d talk a little about my ‘fic ‘Alive, indefinitely’.

The ‘fic was birthed by me realizing the implications of Hussie’s revision that all burgundy bloods have the ability to commune with the dead. For the most part, I dislike his changes where the trolls from Homestuck proper become near stock representatives of their entire bloodcaste, but at least, this one has compelling subtext instead of just seeming lazy. And it is that the bloodcaste that has the ability to commune with the dead is also the bloodcaste that lives the shortest and is the most likely to have friends and acquaintences who die often.

And who better explore that topic than Aradia? So I wrote the ‘fic, and it did branch out to be about her, partially as her role as a rustblood on Alternia. And so it grew bigger than just exploring the subtext. I knew I wanted it in little numbered parts that made vignettes, as I’d been working on writing longer stories and was worried I was losing my edge in vignettes and short fiction. Though the resulting ‘fic ended up 1,677 words (I intended to keep it under 1,000, though I’m not disappointed!), I’m still very satisfied with it and think the vignettes work. With the numbering of the vignettes, I also wanted to do an sort of Epileptic Bicycle and start skipping around numbers, to show that there was different amounts of time passing, and that things were happening in between. And because I just thought it was neat. The idea of a story with missing numbered chapters is very compelling. And anyway, I did have a skip, with the penultimate vignette being 5, and the ultimate being 10 (which upon thought really does make the ‘a lifetime later’ after the 10 work out mathematically*), but it played nowhere near as a big role as I would want to. Maybe some other time.

*Which since all the numbers are roman numerals, 10 ends up being ‘x’, which as a symbol is associated with death. I planned none of that (or at least I don’t remember it consciously) but I will take credit, regardless.

II.

For a second I thought Tumblr was more competent than it is, so I tried to insert a line break, but Tumblr is not competent, so have a fancy second section with big roman numerals instead.

Anyway, I’m just going to note and comment on some specific parts of the passage, because I can.

The internet is wide and wonderful, and it is through there that she learns about archaeology, the wonders lying just beneath the ground and thinks, to be an archaeologist would be an awfully grand adventure.

What Aradia thinks is a fairly straightforward play on the phrase, ‘to die would be an awfully grand adventure’. It's a neat way to both tie back the theme, and it also spared me from figuring out exactly how to phrase it.

She finds especially good company with one boy, his troll tag resting at the top of her chumproll. He’s a rustblood like her, a bit reserved but passionate about the mystery book he’s writing. Occasionally he sends her snippets from it, and while it’s a bit clumsy, he is always eager to hear about her archaeological expeditions, so she never mentions it.

When I wrote this part, I suddenly realized I needed an unnamed rustblood to die. I also realized it would be a good idea to also characterize him a little bit before killing him off, so you get at least the idea of what his and Aradia’s relationship was like, so I decided to use one of my long-derelict fantrolls.

So she starts to rebel. She grows her hair out, longer than the modest shoulder-length cut she had before. She lets it become wild, a sign of her own spirit and power. She starts painting her lips and lining her eyes in burgundy, a mockery of the high bloods who wear their blue hues as a fashion statement.

This is a combination of two of my headcanons about Alternian society: that long, wild hair is seen as a sign of power and sexuality (as expressed by the Condesce and other highbloods), and that wearing hemo lipstick and eyeliner is a high blood fashion trend.

When she is five sweeps old, she makes another close friend. He’s a bit shy, but unapologetic about what he likes – his fiduspawn collection, pupa pan, FLARPing – and that, as much as she loves Sollux, is a breath of fresh air.

Tavros is often done dirty by fanfic and fan-interpretations of Homestuck, and it often intertwines with apologism for Vriska and her abuse of him. He’s treated as a perpetually and naturally weak and insignificant, when having a person who is abusive like Vriska will make anyone unsure and rattled like that. It takes some digging, as the majority of Homestuck takes after Vriska’s batted around Tavros for quite a while, but underneath her abuse (and the effects from that abuse at the hands of Alternian culture) it’s clear that he’s still that unapologetically dorky kid, and even cocky at times. In his trollhandle adiosToreador, he’s not the Toreador - he’s the bull. And hopefully I could express that well in the space that I could.

She befriends Karkat through Sollux, and Terezi through Karkat, and it’s through Terezi that she learns about Vriska.

This is one of several sentences in this ‘fic that employ a certain sense of repetition and rhythm. Part of that is because it gives a motif of time, which is tied to death and destruction in Homestuck, and the other half is because I just... really like writing ‘em.

She still talks with Tavros, however, but now he’s uncertain, hesitant and ashamed, and a fair number of times when she trolls him he doesn’t reply, and when he does more than anything he talks about the things he’s experienced in his dreams, and she knows exactly who has been trolling him even if he doesn’t say it and –

– and Aradia watches her friend become a living ghost, bit by bit.

This is place where I forwent canon the most, earning the ‘fic its ‘mild timeline fudgery’ tag. Throughout writing this ‘fic I constantly had a tab open to either a page in Homestuck or the wiki, or both, in order to make sure I stayed as accurate to Alternian culture that I could (at least, in Homestuck proper). While there were a lot of gaps that I got fill in for myself, it’s just plain canon that Aradia sends the ghosts after Vriska immediately after she knows that Tavros is likely going to be paraplegic for the rest of his life. But I had written the sentence already (one of my favourite lines, really), and it just makes for a better story, at least in this ‘fic. So I kept it like that. There’s also a sort of cut-and-paste fudge in that sentence, too. I remembered that Tavros spent most of his time dreaming on Prospit just so he didn’t have to deal with Vriska’s abuse, but as it turns out, it happens after she god-tiers. So I just turned it into regular dreaming and thereby folded into the above canon discrepancy. But it’s definitely based on that later detail.

iv.

The shock of seeing Sollux actually at her hive is quickly overtaken by the shock that courses through her veins right after she realizes what is about to happen, and far too late to do anything about it.

I knew pretty early that I wanted the vignette of her death to be one sentence long, though I certainly ended up stretching that one sentence fairly far. Either way, it’s very isolated from the rest of the ‘fic, which is fairly on-par for the ‘fic style where a particularly hard-hitting or important sentence gets its own paragraph. Anyway, everyone knows how the story ends, and it’s sudden for Aradia, so I think putting it in one sentence both works structurally and artistically.

She’s tired of temporal inevitability.

She’s free of the endless orders and voices of the dead.

She, for the first time in her life, feels truly alive.

Instead of the pale shadows that clung to her hive, the hollow ghosts that people left behind, the dream bubbles are filled with countless iterations of her friends, and numerous others.

But even then, dying and waking up in foreign surroundings is a shock.

And really, there’s no-one else who would be a better guide to greet the dead.

At this point, I feel again, that going into detail would be dragging things out. I also wanted it to feel significantly different from the rest. So, where the other parts of the story are told through a sort of rolling tone of voice, through ‘the lens of age old history’ the rather straightforward sentences here are meant to sound very present.

#Homestuck #Aradia Megido #Fanfiction #Hemospectrum #Long post-#Commentary #Andrew Hussie's Earthbound fanfiction

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albapuella · 5 years ago

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Urges

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck Summary: When Dave finally gives into his urges, what will Karkat do?

Tags: Meteorstuck, Retcon Timeline, davekat, pov switches galore, present tense CW: CW: hand holding, hugging, nose kisses Author’s Note: This is a fic that I wrote in about two hours for the davekat thirst federation server after they were all being Caliborn thirsty on the main. Please note the content tags--if you're up (heh) for all this spiciness, read on. I thought result was worth sharing with the masses. Enjoy!

Dave is walking beside Karkat, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Karkat's dangling hand, the lax fingers calling out to be--

No. No, he couldn't. He shouldn’t. And yet... He tilts his head ever so slightly to see Karkat's hand better. The curve of the fingers. The tips of his yellowed claws. The thick, meaty curve of his gray palm. What would it feel like to--

Dave feels his face go hot.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

"oh yea of course dude but youre still wrong about dane cook"

Karkat rolls his eyes but accepts the answer before launching into another diatribe Dave can't be bothered to listen to when Karkat's hand is dangling so invitingly by his side.

He can't. He shouldn't.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches out for Karkat's hand, the warmth of it beneath his fingers even more wonderful than he'd thought it be. His fingers wrap around Karkat's stiff startled ones; their palms meet.

---

Karkat is walking beside Dave, going into detail about the superiority of the comic stylings of Dane Cook, when he feels another hand grabbing his own. It's so sudden, he hardly knows how to react even as he feels fingers intertwining with his own.

He stops walking. His throat is dry and he swallows hard before turning his head. There's only one person who can be holding his hand, but it's impossible. Dave's not interested in him. Not like *that*.

But he turns and looks. Pale fingers interlaced with his own gray, leading up to an arm clad in red God Tier pajamas. A shoulder connected to a neck. A neck to a face.

At least Dave has the decency to be blushing, too. He doesn't have the decency to actually look in Karkat's direction. Instead, he squeezes Karkat's hand.

"DAVE?"

Dave is silent. Then he turns his head, the smallest hint of a smile curving his thin lips. "sup"

---

Karkat says his name, and it's not a rejection. It's not a rejection, but it's a question. Karkat's face is flushed but confused. He isn't trying to pull his hand free, but he isn't returning the gesture.

Dave is worried now, worried he's pushed too far too quickly. He has to do something. He smiles, trying to ignore the nervous flutters in his chest. "sup"

Karkat scowls. "WHY-WHY ARE YOU HOLDING MY HAND, DIPSHIT?" The stutter tells Dave he's as affected as Dave is, and despite the harshness of the words, he still allows his hand to remain in Dave's grasp.

Dave feels a swell of hope. "it was asking to be held dude i dont make the rules" He shouldn't. He's done too much already. But Karkat's so close now, his yellow and gray eyes wide. Dave can see himself reflected in his dark pupils.

Feeling reckless, Dave uses his free hand to lift up his glasses so he can see Karkat in full light. His eyes are even more beautiful without the dingy, gray haze.

---

Dave pushes his stupid douche shades up, leaving them up in his blonde hair. Karkat isn't certain what is more incredible: that Dave is still still holding his hand or that Dave has willingly, of his own accord, allowed Karkat to see his eyes.

Karkat has seen them before, of course. He's caught glimpses of them from the corner of Dave's shades. Seen flashes of them when they've been knocked askew. But he's never been given the opportunity to really look at them. Certainly, Dave's never let him look.

He's so lost in the moment, he's speaking before he can censor himself. "THEY'RE BEAUTIFUL."

Dave ducks his head, his flush traveling down his neck. He holds Karkat's hand a little tighter. "thank you" he says in an awkward way that tells Karkat Dave doesn't get many compliments. "im gonna get crazy here so hear me out" He takes a deep breath. "can i... can i--" He's turned his body to face Karkat's head on. "i wanna hug you can that happen"

For once in his life, Karkat takes initiative. Before Dave is even quite done speaking, he's closed the space between them, wrapping his free arm around Dave's middle.

Dave makes a startled sound but recovers quickly, and almost too quickly, Dave's arm is wrapped around Karkat's middle, too. Their entwined hands loosen and separate, allowing those arms to join the hug as well.

Karkat smells soap and a hint of sweat. And it's warm, so warm. The only hugs Karkat had ever had, had ever endured, had been cold. He'd never hugged Aradia, but he knows that even her embrace would have been cool. But Dave is warm.

He sighs against the other boy's shoulder, relaxing further into Dave's arms. He feels breath on his cheek; it smells like coffee.

This can't last forever, Karkat knows this. He knows that this experiment of Dave's will end, but he can enjoy it while it lasts.

---

For what feels like the longest time, Dave can only marvel at the fact that Karkat is in his arms. The troll boy is hugging him, pressing against him, as relaxed as Dave has ever seen him be. Dave feels a rush of pride that Karkat trusts him enough for this. He feels a rush of shame that he waited so long to ask for this.

He tightens his hold on Karkat as though that will keep this moment from ending.

His face is close, so close to Karkat's.

Dave has never been good at knowing when to quit. He's never known when to be satisfied. He brings his face that much closer to Karkat's, brings his nose closer to the gray nose.

They touch. Dave moves his head and gently rubs his nose against Karkat's.

---

Karkat doesn't react at first. He's mostly confused about what the fuck Dave is up to. As far as he can tell, Dave is rubbing his nose with his own nose. It's not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. It feels... it feels intimate.

He closes his eyes, wishing Dave would stop, wishing that he wouldn't. What is Dave getting out of this? Is Karkat just convenient or--

There is no or. Dave wanted to do this with someone, and Karkat is someone. That's it. He ducks his head away from Dave's, burying it into his shoulder.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS WITH ME?"

Dave stills. Then he says, "i want to man thought i was making that pretty obvious" He chuckles, his chin pressing into Karkat's own shoulder. "karkat youre pretty baller you know"

He'd never thought Dave would be so good at acting.

---

Dave isn't expecting it when Karkat pushes away from him with a rough shove. "karkat--?"

Karkat's mouth is twisted into a vicious snarl even as his eyes fill with ruddy tears. "FUCK YOU, DAVE." He wipes the tears away with trembling fists. "IF YOU'RE GOING TO USE ME, AT LEAST DO ME THE FUCKING COURTESY OF NOT LYING TO MY FACE ABOUT IT."

"what" Dave is utterly lost.

"DON'T 'what' ME, ASSHOLE." He crosses his arms, the anger on his face crumbling into a hurt that stabs Dave in the gut. "I ONLY HAVE A PASSING UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT 'BALLER' MEANS, BUT I KNOW YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED IN ME. SO, DO ME A FAVOR, AND STOP PRETENDING YOU ARE."

Dave has spent enough time with Karkat to tell when he's about to bolt, and Dave can't let him go until he clears this up. He grabs Karkat's hand again. "dude karkat listen to me im not lying" To his relief, Karkat doesn't pull his hand away. To his worry, Karkat folds in on himself, his head bowing and his shoulders slumping.

"I'M PAN ADDLED ENOUGH TO LET YOU TAKE WHAT YOU WANT," Karkat says, sounding defeated. "JUST DON'T PRETEND YOU ACTUALLY LIKE ME. I DON'T THINK IT'S TOO MUCH TO ASK."

---

Karkat can't look at Dave now, too embarrassed, too desperate. He should have just kept his mouth shut for once. Should have just enjoyed what little scraps Dave was willing to throw him. Dave is still holding his hand.

"i want you to listen to me" Dave is saying, his voice soft. His other hand strokes the top of Karkat's knuckles as he speaks. "im not using you thats hella gross and id be all kinds of insulted that youd think that but i dont want to make this about me when its about you" Karkat hears him take a deep breath. "im gonna lay it on the line ok i like like you a lot."

"YOU LIKE LIKE ME?" Karkat hates himself for the hope in his voice. He's not entirely certain what "like like"ing means, but he's gathered it's more than being hate-friends. Yes, he and Dave have been getting along better, but he knows Dave only tolerates him because they're both lonely. That's all.

"yea like we're peak middle school up in here passing notes to each other," Dave is clearly gearing up for a ramble, and Karkat smiles despite himself, "do you like me or like like me but weve got to keep it on the downlow so the teacher doesnt notice and find our note because our reps will never survive if she reads it to the class and she will because thats how teachers roll"

"I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND THE CLUSTERFUCK YOU HUMANS CALL AN EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM," Karkat says and, for a moment, it's like nothing's changed. Then reality falls in again. "YOU MEAN THAT?" He is such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot.

---

The way Karkat asks Dave if he means what he says is almost enough to break him. If he weren't such a stone cold bad-ass, he's certain he'd be bawling now, too. Even so, he wishes he could put his shades back down without Karkat thinking he's hiding his eyes so he can lie better.

"yea dog i mean it i dont lie about important shit."

Karkat has always been an open book, emotions-wise. It'd probably be more helpful if Dave were better at emotions himself, but he can see that Karkat wants to believe him. It's something. "we dont gotta do anything different if you dont want im chill just hanging with you," he says, hoping against hope it doesn't come to that: he wants to hug Karkat again, and he hopes the troll boy will let him. "but i want to... i want to hug you because youre you youre like special ok"

A disbelieving huff. "YOU THINK I'M SPECIAL."

Dave nods. "karkat vantas is totally one of a kind" Well, that just isn't true, is it? "i mean there are a fuck ton of you out there in the dream bubbles but i meant more like metaphorically in that this version of you is the you im interested in hugging and stuff"

---

Karkat almost can't believe how charmed he is by this idiot. Almost. Maybe Dave is lying, but maybe Karkat isn't being fair. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks maybe that's true. Considering what he was accusing Dave of wanting to do, he's fairly floored that the human boy still wants anything to do with him.

He looks down at his hand still held between both of Dave's. Then he looks up at Dave's face, at his still uncovered eyes, and makes a decision. "OKAY."

Dave blinks. "ok" The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. "ok"

Karkat rolls his eyes. "YES, THAT'S WHAT I SAID. I'M GLAD THAT YOUR AURAL CLOTS ARE STILL FULLY FUNCTIONAL."

"you have got the weirdest names for things you know that just say ears its so much shorter"

Before he can come up with a suitably scathing remark, he's being hugged again.

Oh.

He sighs and returns the hug. He could get used to this. He thinks he already is.

FIN

End Note: Sorry. I could not add in the kissing--it was just too lewd.

#homestuck #fan fic #davekat #my fic

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chuck-e-cheese-anime-faces · 6 years ago

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My mother fuck all the tags out of order but I basically summed up my when fuckin life story of this site in the tags here hopefully y'all can read/understand at least some of it

what is tumblr to you and what situation do you find yourself using it most

#grandmastwerker #anti-feminist #anti-sjw #sjw #uuuuh the axolotl comic goin around iz bad. not explain why just yet but it is.#damn zoe quinn shit head bad sneaky lying cheating giant ninja koopa fuck yoyu!!!#yeah yknow maybe i should focus on this more than video game #fire woman #been on this ever since my pals been on here #i think it was pretty much one of my pals gf that got him on it and alsp me #and another pal from school was on here and one day after school he just showed me a bunch of shit he reblogged and we spent #that whole time laughin our asses off and i stayed on for more content like that from blogs like his and i think they were #occasionally just reblogged stuff from pals like con pics n such and nice shiet #i was on here for laughs mostly i would be crackin up on a daily basis in the early days so it was one of the most gleeful parts of #my early teenhood but i guess overtime i became desensitized to a lot of humor like i wouldnt laugh at funny jokes nearly as often #after a while and i think that def pushed me (and a bunch of others i feel) further into abstract comedy #further on the route that tim and eric and shit like that had me goin on in the first place #also happened to follow a buncha fandom blogs in early days cause they posted about homestuck which i was readin at the time and #whenever they made political posts n shit i get butthurt overtime because i think they just went against my way of thinking and how i had #perceived the world and in response i became quite a big anti-feminist/anti-sjw #followed some of those blogs and looked in and tags a lot but eventually i started warming up to ideals #little by little but not enough yet. when i really started warming up to those ideals was when i had read that axolotl comic explaining #social justice (yeah the one i keep mentioning) and that really made me rethink stuff especially when like the morning after one of the #-critical blogs i followed at the time was just like #and i was like yeah ok meh unfollow bye. still tho it wasnt just that and i was still not super left even by that point. when gamergate #came alomg i was like but the other thing i was upset #about at that time was michael browns murder and the protests surrounding it and that was fuckin huge like blogs i followed who never #once made serious posts in the time i had followed them even were posting about it constantly and that and all the updates with the #livestreams n shit pretty much gave it higher priority to me so i was like and yea i shoulda been more focused with that to begin with but #may have gone back at least somewhat to old anti-sj bullshit so yeah

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boundforhiveswaphell · 5 years ago

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The Campfire Song Except Without the Song Part; A Tender Pseudoreligious Story

Artemis, my lovely dnd pc, regales her party with the Tabaxi creation myth, which also happens to be Homestuck fanfiction.

In other words, a short story written about an evening around the campfire involving my group's DnD party. All characters mentioned are original excluding the four beta kids, obviously! So, no. This isn't the beta kids playing DnD, sorry to get your hopes up. Many thanks to my lovely, lovely beta reader, Nym_P_Pseudo on Ao3! And so, I humbly present.... a Work.

This can also be found here on Ao3 - if you wanna check out my other, non-homestuck stories!

Smoke danced before them, ember and ash swirling in the summer air. Rancorous laughter merged with the crash of distant waves, the crackle of fire and the shifting of feet providing the backdrop. The evening was alight with fireflies, and the sweet smell of the afternoon’s hunt whirled through the sky in long, lazy arcs.

Khr, the party’s resident Gnoll, was doubled over in laughter. His sickle was embedded in the earth beside him, forgotten in the evening’s relative peace. His laugh was unmistakable - a high-pitched keening giggle that rebounded off the trees. His dark claws were sunk into his knee-fur, and his mouth was agape as he struggled to breathe. Bella, a diminutive figure chuckled beside him. Her elfin features beamed with pride behind the curtain of dark hair, a clear indication that she was the source of his laughter.

“And what would you two be up to?” inquired Vega, her tone joking and light. Her robes glimmered with magic, fine craftsmanship showing even in the dim lighting. A quarterstaff rested beside her, also pulsing with power. Her face was unwrinkled and child-like - but when she smiled, her eyes showed depth beyond their years.

“Nothing!” barked Khr and Bella, near in perfect synchronization. They looked at each other and burst into yet more giggles, even louder than before. Artemis snorted as she tended the fire, feeding another log into its base. She turned to the pair to find them both practically rolling in the dirt, Khr’s tail thumping the ground.

“Sisters help me,” muttered Artemis, lips curled in a grin made menacing by her fangs. Her catlike eyes blinked slowly as she surveyed the group. They were a rag-tag bunch, for sure, but they were certainly capable enough when it came to the adventuring business. She was proud of each of them in turn and loved them as she would her own blood.

“Artemis, I thought you only had brothers?” It was Foofy, the puppet’s, high, comical voice that broke her reverie.

Artemis’s creme-colored face looked up from the fire in confusion. Did pupp… not know who the sisters were? “Y’know,” she began, speaking slowly and deliberately as if to a child. “The Jade and Violet Sisters?”

“The fucking what?” Merlin, a brooding young prince, had joined in on the conversation - ever the eavesdropper.

“I - the Sisters! Life and death, the giver and ender? Y’know, the important ones?”

“Let me restate since you didn’t understand the first time - The fucking what?”

The party had gone eerily silent, Khr and Bella stopping their childish antics to watch the imminent conflict. Judging by their perplexed expressions, it seemed that no one else knew what she was talking about, either. Her mother would be having a conniption in the face of so many pagans.

Artemis was still not entirely sure if her companions were playing a joke on her, but she prepared to educate the gaggle of heathens regardless. She quietly called upon a lifetime of her mother’s adages and stories, harkening back to her days as a helpless whelp being told tales of the strings that shaped the very world. A silent prayer formed on her lips to the Violet Sister, to spare the heretics before her.

She let out the breath she was holding and opened her eyes.

“Would you like me to tell you?”

“Maybe,” came Khr’s grating voice, still breathless from his earlier hysterics. “Is this one of your father’s weird Dragonborn things?”

“No!” huffed Artemis. “It’s Catfolk history. I learned both as a cub.”

“What are you, anyway?” Foofy’s pitchy tone again. Artemis chuckled softly.

“We’ve been over this, Foof. My mother’s Tabaxi, and my dad’s Dragonborn.” Foofy sat in thought for a moment before nodding sagely, as if in understanding. Artemis shook her head in fondness.

“So,” she continued. “Do you lot want to hear the story?”

Seven bright pairs of eyes captured in varying degrees of interest stared back. Foofy was the first to answer with an enthusiastic nod and a cry of “yes!”.

Gracefully pulling herself off of the pine-soaked earth, Artemis rose to her full height. It was for dramatism, of course - she would have towered over her companions even while sitting.

“This world,” she began, “was once a wide and white nothingness. Bright, inescapable, and unfathomable.” Artemis’ voice mimicked her mother’s famous story-telling cadence, though she withheld a majority of the dramatic flair. It was a low, sweet tone, like honey trickling from a spoon.

“The desire to create - that which we all feel - and to leave one’s mark on the world. The hunger to know and to understand the world in which we live. The void, empty as it was, still felt this need, this innate desire. It is from this grandest, ceaseless emotion that Heat and Clockwork willed himself into existence.” Fire blazed behind her eyes, and the scarlet of her scales seemed to glow brighter in the dying ember’s light.

“It was a fiery blaze of desire, passion, and want. The universe willed itself to create, and Brother Crimson was to be its first creation.

“Born of invention itself, his destiny would be as such. He was the antithesis of the blank void around him, dark and fire-fueled, his burning red eyes like hot coals. His life’s work would be to build from the space before him, a task whose monotony was comforting.

“Lord Time created this, the first world, in a symphony of molten rock and flame. It was here, at the center of this feverish landscape that the Forge was created - the workshop of the gods.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” drawled Steve, the party’s quip-hurling bard, “But I was under the assumption we were learning about a few familial goddesses, not some red cherry-scented loser!” If his words weren’t enough to set Artemis off, his languid, careless posture certainly was. He was sprawled across a wide log next to Vega, lying with his stomach to the skies. His back was a half-circle against the ground, curled in what must have been the most uncomfortable position possible.

Artemis ignored the barb, instead choosing to reprimand her friend using a most motherly tone. “Sit your sorry excuse for an ass up before you ruin your back, Stephen. You’ll be sore in the morning if you fall asleep like that!”

Maybe not a motherly tone, but it got the point across.

“The Forge,” she continued, eyeing Steve with an unveiled challenge, “would become Heat and Clockwork’s playground, an endless molten landscape with which to smelt his creations, and to flaunt his prowess as a skilled smith of rhyme.” Her expression shifted back to the flickering eyes and bright smile of a well-meaning zealot.

“Hold on, hold on!” Maxwell’s lilting voice interrupted. “You lost me at Brother Crimson. Who is he? I thought it was Heat and Clockwork?”

Artemis’ whiskers twitched in poorly concealed amusement. “They are the same, Max. Lord Time, Knight of the Forge, Ascendant’s Anger, et cetera. It’s all the same, dear.” Though her expression seemed annoyed, her tone was light and full of affection. “Any other questions?” The cleric murmured a soft “no” in response.

“The Knight’s hands carefully crafted the First Being, his finest creation. All was perfection, from the soft feline face to the fur that rippled down her back. Satisfied with his work, Brother Crimson stood back and proudly surveyed it. The fires around him grew dim, no longer needed to smelt and shape.

“With a smile as bright as the heavens-jewel, the Knight of the Forge breathed into his creation, giving life from himself to the beast before him. Though he blew and blew, the statue did not - could not - move. Its empty eyes seemed to mock his disheartened visage.

“Tears of sputtering, flaming rock rolled down his stony cheeks. He tried again and again, forming new husks as quickly as he destroyed them. The Pyre found that no creation of his would breathe. Thus, his passion rendered into bitterness, and the fires of his purpose grew cold. He was alone in this vast world, without a means to escape.”

The group was still and silent. Artemis’ voice swept over them like an enrapturing spell.

“His despair was so great, and so vast, that from it formed the first Sister. The Jade Sister, Frost and Frogs, stood before him in all her radiant glory. Her hair was long, dark, and tangled, an ever-moving sea of creatures and landscapes. It was full of beastly things and lilypads alike, a cacophony of creation. She had three eyes that glowed green as grass, bloody and beautiful in all that they saw. Her teeth were sharp as needles, stained with the raven-wine of those who would come after. She was splendid. She was beautiful.”

“She was life itself.”

“Okay, gayass.” Khr, ever the instigator, called to her across the circle. Artemis rolled her eyes and suppressed a chuckle.

“The Jade Sister,” she continued, “reached out to her Brother. Shaking, unsure, he took her hands in his - and the world went green. A verdant, endless green. Viridian and emerald as far as one could dream.

“And lying, hidden, at the center of this green expanse lay a secret. That which Brother Crimson had so desired to produce - life.” The forest around them seemed to sing a hymn of agreement as she spoke. The branches of the looming pines shifted and creaked, whispering the name of their creator.

“Heat and Clockwork dried his tears and filled his lungs with feral joy - he knew in his heart that his creations would no longer be lifeless. Though the world was devoid except for them, the Crimson Brother would scream and cry for all the void to hear that he was no longer alone. Touched by his display, the Fern Mother held his hands in her own, gripping so tightly that her claws coaxed the wound-sea from his veins.

“Locked in an embrace, the Siblings danced upon the newly lush ground. With each step they took, a forest was brought to seed. With each note they sang, a field was grown to fruition. Before his Sister’s birth, the Blind Son thought he had known happiness - but as he leapt and twirled with the Witch he came to understand that it was nothing in the face of her smile.”

Khr hurled another jest, louder this time, but much the same.

“I have a girlfriend at home, Khr,” Artemis admonished. “I’ve no reason to go chasing after goddesses.” Bella let loose a mocking “Oooh!” in response, and he elbowed her with an embarrassed chuckle.

“And so,” she continued, “The two waltzed their way to the heart of the earth, where the Forge lay empty.

“Frost and Frogs, all gleaming teeth, placed her hands onto the First Being. At her touch, it awoke - its ears and tail began to twitch, filled with the life that surrounded the Jade Sister. It bounced and leaped and jumped. The Siblings danced with their creation, their happiness burning brighter than the Forge could ever hope to be.

“It was from this immense jubilation that the Cobalt Brother was born. His siblings’ bliss was so powerful, so potent that it spat forth the god of Wind and Shade. Born of laughter, harlequin god, bringing joy to those who would gamble and hope.” As she spoke, the wind around them stirred, ruffling Artemis’ fur and scattering the lingering smoke from the now cooling embers.

“His visage is porcelain and pale; his eyes drip with black blood, thick with stars like the night sky. Like his sister, he is always smiling, though his teeth are far less terrifying than the Fern Mother’s maw. His arms are uncountable and many - each unseen and unknowable. In his left-most arm, he carries a hammer with which to shape the world. In his right-most, a mask, its face obscured. It is said that with it, he can assume the shape of any creature he should so choose.”

“What the fuck…” muttered Merlin.

“The fuck indeed!” Artemis laughed. “The Trickster is the god of curses and profanity, in addition to his other domains.”

“A god for cursing, hm? I need one of those…”

Artemis let a brief silence hang and then continued. “As they walked, the Motley Jester’s thoughts turned to mischief - born of laughter, he was predisposed. A dark grin festered behind his eyes - and with one swing of his hammer, the Son of the Tempest brought forth a mighty gale to set the world spinning.”

“The Heir’s joke completed, his siblings fell to the earth below as it began to spin beneath them. Slowly, but it did - they watched as the sun above them moved slowly to their West. Their creation was spinning, much to their chagrin - but they loved each other, and could not stay mad at their youngest Brother. They continued their walk to the Forge, excited to show the Motley Jester their playground.”

“Upon their arrival, he turned his attention to the First Being - now a stumbling, walking beast. Its claws were sharp as daggers, its fur dense as earth. A single entity, born of metal and fire, of life and verdance. The Trickster produced his signature leer, and wrest a mask from the void into one of his many arms. It was a perfect mockery of the creature's face, fine as silver and smooth as bone. Ensuring his Siblings were preoccupied with other parts of the Forge, Brother Cobalt fitted the mask upon the First Being’s face.

“It was from this perfect mask of porcelain that the First Being felt - was given the ability to form bonds, to experience emotions, just as its creators had done.” Artemis’ claws gleamed in the moonlight as she spoke, a deadly reflection of the First Being she described.

“The Siblings hollered with delight at their creation’s fate, a sweet song with which it joined in harmony. It was a joyous night, and the lush earth, spinning, living, and beautifully cratered, seemed to pulse with excitement. From the rich earth below, the Witch pulled woven cords to the surface. Her brothers wrapped them around rocks and trees, pulling them taut. It was then, the three Siblings acting in harmony, that the first Song was played.” Had any of her audience not been so enraptured with her words, they would have heard the dulcet tones of a soft-spoken tune in the distance.

“The Trickster played strings with his hammer by his side, striking deep notes in a flurry of exhilaration. His sister’s tones were more muted, though just as excitable. She plucked the strings with her long, clawed hands - careful not to tear them. The eldest brother, though slow to join his family, plucked and sang a melody. It was brash and loud, a flurry of notes that was perfect to the ear.

“From each string plucked, from each note coaxed, a new being was born unto the world. It is said that the songs made that day were the purest expressions of music, unmatched by any performer.” Vega gave Steve a warning look, to deter him from making an expected pompous comment regarding his playing skill.

“The Forge was alight with sparks and laughter, and the Siblings’ bonds grew stronger as they worked beside one another.” Her expression grew dark. “But - they worked too quickly. The world they had created was only so big, after all. And as they built a thousand creatures, they began to fill and fill the space that was left. They crowded the land, clawing at each other. Their claws and teeth, built for singing and creating, had become tools of violence.

“It was the screaming that alerted the Siblings to their creation’s plight. Screaming, endless screaming as they fought for space. The Siblings looked upon their earth in horror, in fear, of what they had done. Their world was suffering for their foolishness.

“Heat and Clockwork, the eldest of the three, knew what must be done. The other two, in the hearts, knew as well - though neither the Witch nor the Heir could bring themselves to do it.

“Foolish children that they were, their creations had not been designed to die - they could not kill each other. Their gods had cursed them to an endless cycle of suffering.” She paused, looking into her companion’s eyes.

“Brother Cobalt would eventually decide their course of action. He looked into Heat and Clockwork’s scarlet-red eyes as he summoned a gust of air to smother the flames of his Brother’s Forge. The rich earth around them grew cold and empty, the blissful heat that emanated from the planet’s core now gone. The creatures stilled, the air devoid of the warmth that kept them moving.” Like the creatures she described, Artemis’ movements slowed and halted as she spoke, coming to a standstill.

“The Siblings made a pact, there in the cold and silent Forge. They would not meet again, under any circumstance. Their love for each other was too strong - they would be unable to resist creating more things to fill the earth. Though the Jade Sister, giver of life, had tried to revoke it from her creations, she quickly discovered she was only able to give life, not take it away. Resolute in their decision, the Siblings, weary and heart-broken, pulled themselves away to the farthest corners of the earth.

“Time passed. The Siblings grew restless. Lonely, locked away by themselves for their selfishness. A deep sadness ran through them, and as a result, into the remains of their creations. For the first time in eons, the Forge sat empty, it’s bellows long since cold and forgotten. Lord Time tinkered by himself in his endless stone castles, building things that could not fulfill him. Space’s Beldam performed a joyless dance for the depleted world around her, it’s once vibrant colors dulled. Her footsteps no longer brought forth life - they left trails of a withering blight in their path. Breath’s Scion, the gleeful god, was the saddest of the three. He could not truly understand why they had separated, just that he was now alone.” Her eyes were cold. She was glad for the silence of the night around them.

“Frost and Frogs, born from an abundance of loneliness, collapsed onto the earth she had so loved. Her voice warbled from her vicious mouth, a sad, keening sound. It was high and sweet, carrying easily to the other Siblings. Hearing her mournful call, both Brothers joined her in the sound. It was a feral instinct, deep and instilled. And though they were leagues apart, their song was harmonious, clear as day.” The woods around her seemed to stop. Each member of her party stood in slack-jawed enchantment at her words.

“It is from this hopeless, despair-driven sound that the Violet Sister was born. Called from the same white void as her siblings, she was thrown forth from the emptiness. From her head sprout a pair of long, needle-thin horns. Her lavender skin is marked and scratched, places where her ebony-black blood drips in slow, rhythmic steps. Black twines of a shadow substance beyond mortal comprehension twist from her skin, enveloping her in an unknowable darkness of tentacles. She is the blind goddess, the Empty one, ruler of the creatures that lurk below, the end of life and the bringer of death.” Artemis took a breath. “She is the goddess of Light and Rain.”

“Piss!” cursed Steve, eyes wide with poorly masked fear. “You named this - this monster Light and Rain? What kind of a name is that?”

No longer content to let him disrespect her deities, Artemis squared her shoulders, bringing her up to her full height. The tallest of the party, Artemis was a fearsome sight. Her eyes and scales gleamed a menacing red in the firelight. When she pulled her lips back to reveal honed, gleaming teeth, it was enough to make anyone not used to her promptly shit their breeches.

“Light and Rain is the goddess of the unseen, the otherworldly, and the unknown,” Artemis’ steel-sure voice was the only sound that could be heard over Steve’s ragged breathing. “I will make the place I dump your sorry excuse for a corpse very unknown if you call her a monster again.”

Vega snickered from her comfortable place on the log. Anyone who had met Artemis for half a second knew she’d never actually act on that threat, especially not to Steve - the dorky kid she treated like one of her younger brothers. Despite the clear emptiness of her threat, it was enough to make Steve back down with a few mumbled apologies. Mollified, Artemis turned her gaze back to the rest of the party. She was close enough to the story’s end now that she was unconcerned with Steve’s ill-mannered words.

“Light and Rain, newly born into the dying world, cast her soothing gaze across the fractured land before her. Though she was young, her knowledge was vast. The Grim Seer gathered her elder siblings into her arms, pulling them together once more.

“Though Heat and Clockwork’s furnace-bound eyes burned through her, she continued. Though the needle-fine teeth of Frost and Frogs sunk into her skin, she persisted. Though Wind and Shade’s star-strewn tears burned like acid, she pursued. They held each other in an expression of the purest love, reunited and whole.

“The four held each other, crying. They sensed that with this newest addition, they were complete. Their struggle was over. No words needed to be spoken as they parted, smiles bittersweet and tears drying away. They looked at one another, then to Light and Rain. They knew what must be done.

“The Violet Sister’s horns crackled with dark, purple energy - and then with a flash of light as bright as their void, the world was clean. Her claws had flashed across the earth, quick as lightning. The First Beings were free of their chains of ill-begotten immortality. Light’s Mistress had granted their creations a most peculiar, but needed gift - the gift of death.” A light smile played on her lips. She was thoroughly enjoying the shocked faces of her party.

“It was known as the Scratch - it was the beginnings of our universe. Now mortal, the creations found peace in themselves - and the Siblings found peace in each other. And so, our world was born. The Catfolk, the First Beings, were the first to speak to their creators, spreading this truth to the other races.”

Artemis’s words were interrupted by an enormous yawn from none other than Khr - his arms stretched to the sky, claws curling inwards. “Sorry…” he murmured, eyes threatening to close.

“Well then,” chuckled Artemis. “I believe we’ll call it a night here.”

“What, no! We have to know more!” whined Merlin, now suddenly interested in the mythos.

“Later, dear. Save it for the next campfire.” Her smile was genuine, and her eyes kind to reflect it. “You need to go to bed. We've got work to do tomorrow!” With that, the magic dissipated. It was clear the evening’s entertainment was over. She tutted and shushed her companions as she ushered them to their tents, wishing them a restful sleep. As she snuffed out the last of the fire with a kick of dirt, she chuckled to herself. Maybe her mother would be proud - stop calling her a heathen for not wanting to listen to the same tired stories.

As she padded back to her tent, Artemis was treated with the passing conversation from another party member’s shelter. Though the voice was muffled, it’s high cadence could belong to none other than Bella.

“Catfolk are badass!”

#dnd #homestuck #oc #original works #original work #mythos #religion #fantasy #fantasy religion #world building #homestuck fanfiction #fanfiction

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evilwriter37 · 5 years ago

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mm how's about...1, 10, 11, 12, 15, and 19? :3

1. When did you join tumblr?

April 2014

10. What tags do you filter/blacklist?

Oh boy, there’s a lot, but I’m not including names of users so as not to start drama. I filter critiques of things because they tend to make me feel bad about what I enjoy. Also, I filter the Spiderverse because a lot of people don’t tag their flashing gifs from that and I get migraines.

anti endgame, anti httyd 3, anti reylo, anti rtte, anti star wars, anti tros, aot, australia, endgame criticism, flashing, flashing gif, homestuck, homestuck 2, hospital whump, httyd 3 criticism, httyd 3 critique, httyd criticism, httyd critique, into the spider verse, into the spiderverse, jesus/crowley, medical whump, miraculous ladybug, miraculous spoilers, mlb, pedophilia mention, rtte criticism, she-ra, snk, spider man: into the spider verse, spiderverse, steven universe, su, suicide, suicide attempt, tros negativity, tw: self harm, tw: suicide

11. What tags do you track?

art, digital art, httyd, landscape, minecraft, nature, painting, race to the edge, rtte, traditional art, watercolor, writing

12. Do you primarily use tumblr on mobile or on desktop?

Definitely mobile. I like lying down.

15. What are the top five things you would change about tumblr, if you could?

Delete the site. Just get rid of it.

I’m kidding. I’ve had good experiences on here and met a lot of cool people, you included!

I would make it so that keywords in posts don’t show up in tags.

I don’t want to see posts from people I’ve blocked even if someone else reblogs them. (Thank you xkit for fixing that with blacklist.)

Search function wouldn’t exclude posts with links.

Get rid of the nsfw ban. Bring back the titty.

19. Do you read other people’s tags?

Absolutely! Other people put a lot in their tags, as do I sometimes!

#asks #tumblr meta #tomiyeee

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blaperile · 6 years ago

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Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 5

#Homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #Meat #reaction #Dave #Dirk #Jake

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inkpotlanterned · 6 years ago

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11/11/11 Tag Game

Thank you to @yetmorestories for tagging me and check out their endearing answers here.

Rules: Answer 11 Questions, Ask Eleven Questions, Tag Eleven People!

1. Who is your favorite ship to write? Dave Strider x Karkat Vantas (Homestuck) *eye emoji* From my ocs, Ritchy x Elliot which is more platonic than romantic but still the easiest pairing for me to write and I would certainly perish for their relationship.

2. Least favorite character you’ve created? Oh boy. They are all my children and I love them all. Even the bitches.

3. What was your first fandom, if any? Homestuck. *eyesx2*

4. Ever had any characters get together unexpectedly? Lucy and Elliot were supposed to be friends.

5. Do you collect anything? The hearts of scorned boys. Just kidding. I'm less a collector and more of a hoarder of information. I ask a lot of people the same question and then save all of their answers in a list (I have a list of MBTIs, let me know yours.) I've got so many notes on my phone about random things. People have asked me for homework I did two years ago and I've been able to dig it up and give it to them.

6. Do you consider yourself a gamer? Unfortunately, I am predisposed for getting super into things. So gaming isn't compatible with my goal of becoming an author. I avoid getting into games because I know it could easily take over my life/writing. That said, I love playing freestyle games like Minecraft, Animal Crossing, Guild Wars 2. I also recently got into Clash of Clans but only to support a friend determined to make the best clan ever. (I play support classes in combat games because I suck at fighting.)

7. Do you have any other creative talents/hobbies besides writing? Mm. Maybe not a creative talent or a hobby, but I'm a great card player. I don't like playing games of chance and prefer strategy or lying games (BS, Thirteen, Spades/Hearts, Blackjack). I'm great at setting traps to catch lies, tracking cards in my head, and changing my disposition on a whim. A lot of adults I've met have jokingly said I'll love gambling at casinos (I wouldn't) to which I respond, "I don't gamble; I make bets."

8. Least favorite book you’ve read? Oh no. This question... it's impossible to answer. How can I possibly proclaim a book as bad??? Queen of Shadows by Sarah J. Maas. No doubt, no doubt. It's been 4 years and I'm still mad and I'll probably die mad about it. If you liked this series, I respect your opinion, but also you cannot convince me that it was good writing to completely replace the old cast, even going so far as to rename the main protagonist and change her to the point that she was unrecognizable. Maas should've just written a new series if she was tired of her old characters.

9. Favorite writing music/background noise? A busy Starbucks or classroom. I focus best with an undercurrent of babble to tune out. Probably because of years of studying at Starbucks from 6-10pm everyday after school. I've conditioned my brain to ignore noise though which means my ability to listen to lectures has uhhhh degraded.

10. Have you taken any classes/been trained as a writer? I took a semester of Creative Writing and it led to some of my favorite short stories.

11. Tell us about a project you’ve abandoned if you’ve got one? Oh boy. Okay. There are so many though. Space Pirates probably counts as abandoned whoops. I just want to mention that part of the plot was two siblings destined to inherit a throne, but the cost of the throne is that the planet takes away whatever you love most. The older sister is terrified of dying, but knows that if she is chosen to rule, her brother will die so she spends a lot of time preparing herself to die, determined to ensure her brother will become ruler. Her brother does become ruler, but she doesn't die. Instead, he loses his hearing because he loves his music more than her and it's kind of shattering. There's also a prohet who can see the immediate future and feels trapped in it which sucks. I’ll probably make a midnight post about all my WIPs bc why not.

Ok my 11 questions are: 1. What is your earliest memory of becoming interested in writing/reading? 2. Do you have a process for getting into The Zone? 3. Do you write down notes when creating characters and what do they focus on if you do? 4. Do you prefer worldbuilding or character building? 5. What is your MBTI and is it accurate? 6. Has any author profoundly affected your writing aspirations/style? 7. What advice would you give to younger you when they started writing? 8. Which characters do you find easiest to write? 9. Are there any characters in media/literature that you strongly identify with? 10. What's your favorite board game? 11. What is one thing you're proud of in your writing?

Tagging: @the-real-rg, @sulfurousdreamscapes, @somuchtowrite, @magsiswritingnow, @onedayiwillfind, @sleepy-and-anxious, @editronchi, @write-the-stars, @ananya-writes, @crazybunchwriter, @writings-of-a-narwhal

#tag game #personal #11/11/11 tag

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