#dontoc

[chuckling-chemist]

A Study In Novels

((The second piece I wrote for the @fantrollszine! This one a little more comedic than the other piece I wrote. And don’t forget, if you like it consider buying me a coffee or checking out my AO3 -- where both of these short stories will be going eventually)) 

Dontoc wasn’t one for reading romance novels.

Maybe it just wasn’t for him. Dontoc much preferred subversive fantasy steeped in lore and original wiggler’s tales from before the Empire found and censored them. Books that praised the Empire or grounded themselves too close to reality weren’t likely to catch his eye. That’s not to say a romance novel couldn’t be subversive or fantastical -- Dontoc’s sure they existed somewhere -- but his experience in the genre was limited to whatever books he acquired secondhand from either his moirail or his hivemate. Which, to be fair, Dontoc held as little interest in books describing in excruciating detail the ins and outs of traditional interstellar subjuggalator pailing that his moirail found morbidly interesting as he did the godawful romance self-published stories his hivemate regularly printed off from some blog and left sitting around on tables when she got stuck on something in the lab.

Then again this current one he attempted to slog through, recommended by his matesprit to give him a good example of the genre, wasn’t any better. It felt less like a novel and more like a subpar lecture on the importance of keeping quadrants filled and separated, combined with a bizarrely saccharine tone out of place for a novel that critics heralded as “diving into the dark, twisted secrets of forbidden flush love between two castes”. It was no more than yet another creepy realistic-fiction that tried to play off the caste difference as something inherently disturbing.

His so-called matesprit, to give the kindest words to a troll forcing their relationship on life support through thinly veiled threats against his friends, lamented his apparent lack of interest in romance novels indicated a lack of romanticism. Had Dontoc not had sufficient evidence to the contrary, he might have believed her.

I reach across the desk, over to the looming seadweller on the other side and he snatches it out of the air. I flush, face turning impossibly teal under his watchful gaze. How did he know I would try to grab it?

“Okay, that is enough of that for tonight,” he said with a groan.

“Enough of what?”

Even knowing the voice instantly to be the chirpy lilt of his hivemate, Pallia, her sudden entrance into the mainblock still made his heart skip a beat. She plopped down on the seat next to him of the black couch, peering over half-moon glasses to grimace at the book in his hand. She didn’t have to say anything to exude the level of judgement he felt from her.

“You, lover of subjuggalator documentaries, cannot possibly be judging me for reading something bad,” he said lightly.

“Oh come on, Dontoc there’s bad and then there’s this.” She glanced down at the book again. “What’s it even about anyway?”

He shook his head with a sigh, letting the finger holding his spot slip out of the book. “Certainly you could wager a guess.”

“Oh a puzzle?” Pallia shifted around in her seat, turning to face him with crossed legs. She was dressed for ultimate relaxation in a pair of sweats and loose sweatshirt, with her hair pulled up in an unusually well-kept bun thanks to a few well-placed pencils. She contrasted him, tall and fully dressed in a three piece suit with his perpetually unkempt short hair, quite perfectly. Her teal eyes sparkled with mirth from behind the glasses. “Do I get any hints?”

He smirked playfully. “You have not somehow ingested enough bad media to hazard a proper guess?”

“Not for romance.” Pallia crossed her arms and huffed. “God Dontoc, I only have one quadrant. Do I really strike you as the romantic type?”

Did Pallia strike him as the romantic type? Dontoc wasn’t actually sure. With her only having one quadrant, he couldn’t accurately say for sure if such were true, or if he simply never had the chance to see her interact with a quadrant proper. She might not be the same affectionate, teasing troll who went out of her way to make sure he felt included around a quadrant. His doubt might just be his own long-time, latent flush crush on her causing him to project.

After all, he did have a flush crush on her. That much was certain. A sweep or two ago, he might have tried to deny to himself, but by now there was no other way to explain the way being around her made his whole body feel ten pounds lighter and pointlessly giddy at any little thing. His other friendships, even his actual matespritship, failed to elicit similar reactions. The closest was his moirail, Valeba, who always always brought serenity with her presence, but even that wasn’t this bizarre effervescence that floated him away from his anxieties. Not that he’d ever tell Pallia any of this. Managing to get a best friend whom he adored, despite their caste difference, was more than acceptable. To ask anything more was selfish.

“You simply strike me as the type to have read enough bad media, regardless of genre, to take some sort of guess,” he said. “Or have I somehow misread that one and you happen to unironically enjoy ‘Subjuggalating Mentor to Highbloods is Put Under Great Scrutiny after Explaining to Bluebloods the Importance of the Mirthful Messiahs Upon Inquisition. When the Bigoted Seadwelling Upper Staff Wish to Cull Her, She Goes to the Courtblock to Defend Faith In Schoolfeeding, Alongside a Plucky Tealblood Looking for His Big Break’?”

She snorted. “Please. I don’t think a single person unironically enjoys that. How can anything fall face first into every stereotype while acting like it doesn’t? There’s never been a more--” she paused to slap her forehead with an amused groan “--oh of course! The book’s hemoist isn’t it?”

Dontoc grinned. How could he not? “Oh, extremely. The highblood is the dominant one in the relationship, and he is honestly worse than you would expect.”

“Tall, well dressed and…” she tapped her finger on her arm in thought… “indigo? That strength is attractive to a lot of trolls.”

“You are not far off. Think higher.” He gestured upward toward his own twitching fins. “Much higher.”

“Violet? Really?” She looked at the cover again doubtfully. “But this looks like some kind of rich businessman type of story. I thought the violet caste normally keeps to themselves.”

“Oh they do. This book bypassed such a problem by saying he simply moved onto land when he was very young, shortly after his lusus was culled by extreme hemorebels, to get ‘more out of life’. Or perhaps it was not. Honestly, the backstory was brushed aside in favor of having the two stare blankly at each other.”

Pallia raised her eyebrows. “Is the protagonist’s backstory any clearer or is it just as bad?”

Dontoc shrugged helplessly. “If I tell you her backstory, I assure you it will give away her caste immediat--”

“Oh, so she’s a tealblood. Probably ten sweeps old, if they’re playing off twenty sweeps as young somehow. Tiny waif of a troll too, I bet.”

Well. That happened. Dontoc blinked owlishly at her assessment. Every single piece was completely true, down to the size of the tealblood. There’s no way she read the book. He would’ve seen it somewhere. “Um...how...how did…”

“You said if you tell me the caste, it gives it away. Teals and jades are the most rigid in jobs, but jadeblood romance is mostly always two women, while this love interest is male.” It was her turn to smirk, pointy fangs poking out from underneath her lips. “Despite your best efforts, you still gave away way too much.”

“You asked for a hint,” he pointed out.

“You said you weren’t giving it to me.”

He hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. My mistake then. Perhaps we can try this again the next time Careen insists I do some reading.”

Pallia’s amiable expression dropped into a far more worried one. “She insisted? Really? That’sss abssolutely…” she trailed off with a shake of her head. “Ignore me. That’sss not my place.”

Dontoc set the book down on the floor, shifting so he could face Pallia better. She must’ve scooted closer at some point. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed how close they were? It was only a loveseat after all. “Are you certain? After all dear, I--”

“It’sss fine. Ssserioussssly.” She gave him a reassuring smile. It looked somewhat forced, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. Better to just move on. “So, anything else to guess about the book?”

“Hm? Oh, yes right. Let me just, ah...” He reached toward the empty space in his lap for the book, but Pallia got to him first, stopping him with a soft hand. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, a stark counter to her amused one.

“Dontoc you put the book on the floor,” she said with a chuckle.

He glanced down at the floor, realizing with growing horror he most definitely did put it down on the floor. Heat pricked up his neck, causing his lips to twist into a sheepish grin. He wiggled his hand out of Pallia’s to run through his hair instead. If nothing else, the action helped calm his nerves. “So...so I did. My apologies,” he said finally.

She shrugged. “None needed. Do you even need the thing, or is the book that forgettable?”

“I ah...well, poorly constructed story or no, it is comforting to some degree to hold it. After living in what may as well have been a library alone I suppose it just...it just happened.” He sighed, a mixture of bittersweet and wistful. Memories of his childhood flooded back in waves. The lonesome library ran by a kindly jadeblood. Her impeccable ability to find whatever he should read next. The other kids trying to steal and damage them. His instructor taking his copy of The Grimdark Narrator’s wigglers tales and insisting it was inappropriate for him to read it.

Thank God Pallia was there to keep the focus, or else who knows how long he’d reminisce on the parts of his life he’d rather forget. “So you said it’s a violetblood right? And a tealblood? Not any other mid-caste.”

“Erm...yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Though I am not sure why that is important. It is just a caste gap. From what I understand, those are quite common in romance.”

“Oh they are. Totally common. Which is funny, considering it happens anywhere else and people can’t take it.” She pointed down at the book on the floor, the cover of which showed a lone desk covered in papers. “But that’s beside the point. So the teal is probably some personal assistant to him?”

Dontoc nodded slowly. That much was hardly a guess. While in reality tealbloods got well-to-do, white collar jobs, it seems any time a tealblood actually showed up in media, they were subservient to some higher caste. Not the same way the lowbloods were, how many of them were maids or butlers at best, but the paid equivalent of such didn’t feel like much of an improvement to him. “Of course. Did you not know that teals are little more than suck-ups to the Empire? Constantly following around the Empress to compliment her and give her the newest gossip on the common folk. After they round up all the little bad trolls, of course.”

Pallia crossed her arms, smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Did Careen let you in on that hot tip?”

“Oh no, someone far more reasonable in such a regard. Someone with a good head on their shoulders, you see.” Pallia seemed to sag in disappointment until he added, “It was Pothos.”

“Oh my God!” she squealed. Her whole body convulsed with laughter as she fell back into the couch.  “You are not allowed to do that again!”

“...Make you laugh?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t think she was upset, but at the same time her worried look when mentioning Careen earlier had him on edge. “You are ah...you are--”

She heaved herself up and nodded, bun askew and grin plastered on her face. “Oh I’m great. I cannot believe you got me to think about that bumbling idiot. Did Careen tell you about when she thought we’d work as a quadrant?”

Dontoc shook his head: she hadn’t. While Careen was always eager to do nothing but complain about Pallia, and had been downright enthusiastic to tell Dontoc all about when his hivemate supposedly expressed flush interest in Pothos that he didn’t return, she never gave any more details. The whole story felt off in a way he couldn’t fully explain (in fact, it was another one he was willing to brush off as him projecting his crush --  sure, he can’t imagine Pallia wanting to be with a troll who truly thought skull shape indicated intelligence but maybe it was only wishful thinking), but he never told Careen such. It was good to know he had every right to be suspicious.

“How did it go?”

Pallia snorted. “About as bad as you’d expect. He learns I have a hint of an interest in something, and just starts talking over me like he’s suddenly the expert. He knows the chemical formula for table salt. That’s it. Wouldn’t know a stem cell from the stem of a plant.” She paused, eyes suddenly going wide. She wasn’t looking at him, not anymore. Her gaze was pointedly focused on that book. “Wait a second. This is her book right? Does Careen have some kind of thing for violets and teals?”

Dontoc rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. She has an odd hatred for teals. Jades too, to a lesser degree. She will not voice it, but it is present. Besides, if she really wanted you to be paired up with a violetblood to conform to her romance tropes, there are far better options.”

Pallia chuckled. “Yeah, at least if it’s like...us, it subverts that ‘teal employed by violet’ thing.”

Whatever train of thought he had immediately crashed. His face burned, and fins fluttering in embarrassment or not, there was no cooling it down in time to reduce the flush. “Ah….uh…” he swallowed harshly, realizing as he spoke his mouth was suddenly dry as sandpaper, “excuse me dear, what?”

“Oh you know. Technically speaking, you’re my research assistant. Not the other way around.” She paused, closing her eyes with a sigh. If she recognized how flustered he was right now, she wasn’t saying anything. “Then again though, considering the whole Preypal thing...maybe that doesn’t count? But sponsorships don’t count as employment. This might be more complicated than I thought.”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

“Well yeah. I mean…” They locked eyes, and he only just noticed the blush creeping on her own face. “I get bored waiting for the ion spectroscopy to finish. The logistics of how our lives would function within a work of fiction is far from the weirdest thought experiment I’ve had. I think that one started with a conversation I had with Aisral? I dunno.”

“But you have thought at length about the logistics of us...uh…”

“Ssssort of? In the same way I’ve thought about like...I dunno, me and Aisral or something. Purely hypothetical. Don’t worry. I realize you’re with Careen and talking about it’s probably strange to think about dating your hivemate...” Pallia trailed off, letting out a quiet, awkward laugh as she rubbed her neck.

“Oh impossibly so, but continue.”

“But seriously, it’s not the most unlikely thing I’ve heard. More likely than anything in that book, anyway. If that makes any sense. Sssorry for worrying you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Okay. So it’s only that they’d make a better story than whatever dribble Dontoc was reading. That’s probably true. While not the worst novel he’s come across, there weren’t many worse. His fluttering pulse calmed down enough that he actually felt he could breathe again. “If it helps, I would much rather read about us than this couple.”

Pallia smirked. “Even the pailing scenes?”

Dontoc’s face fell. He erased those from his memory, too. “Okay, we’re finished here.”

#fantroll #homestuck #hiveswap #fanfiction #fantrolls #ft #fantrollszine #homestuck zine #my writing #dontoc #pallia

[veryfictitiousdemons]

Smoke and Mirrors: Sample

((Aramil and Pereon are owned by @fantroll-cove. Those characters are written with permission from Mallow, their creator. Overall tags are present on AO3, but overall content warning for bullying, and all the childhood nastiness that comes along with it. Likes/reblogs/kudos are appreciated, this took a little longer than I expected. But it’s also 4 words short of 3000 so hey man.))

His name was Aramil.

Aramil Narzul. Prince of the modern generation of trolls. Trolls who could sell their brand completely online thanks to the advent of social media so nuanced the bots were indistinguishable from the trolls. Where on the surface, your popularity was dictated by your follower count (and Aramil had easily over 750,000 -- not that he’s counting) just as much as your caste (of which, being a violetblood, he rested easy in that regard). Any troll could be something where your face wasn’t necessary -- Livechurnal, Grubtube, Chittr, Prongle...with a little elbow grease, quality art, and a quick enough wit, a rust might one day amass enough popularity to pretend to be a green caste on these sites while purples and indigos were left in the dust.

But such was the work of those without the skills to climb the ladder.

Did he have those qualities? Of course. His friends laughed at every joke, praised his every move. Artfully done pictures of his drinks (non-alcoholic of course, hard liquor belonged firmly with the same guttercastes who invented it) framed against the faintly-rising sun on the ocean gathered more clicks than some websites got in their whole existence. And pictures of his face? With his gently tousled hair and flamboyant, unmarred Sindarian fins paired off with a perfectly smooth and unblemished face, he gathered followers merely at the fantasy they could befriend someone as beautiful as him. If they heard his smooth-as-butter voice with just a hint of a refined accent, they were hooked.

To say nothing of his artistic exploits. Ignoring his eye for a good shot, Aramil made sure to constantly talk about his love of writing. With a few aesthetic pictures of a notebook filled with loopy script in violet pen, everyone instantly believed him. He didn’t even have to show off any of his writing. He could, though, most certainly. In fact, Aramil was working on a book right now: an epic fantasy about a rag tag group of adventurers questing on a seemingly impossible mission. It’s why he made sure to always carry his husktop wherever he went. At the same time, he wasn’t ready to share it. Or if he was, it wasn’t much. A few snippets here, a passage there. Enough to fit on a well-photoshopped, aesthetically pleasing picture. Enough so no one could call him a liar, or a fraud. Enough to make searching the quote difficult.

Some would call it forgery. Or lying. Aramil called it magic.

((Read on AO3))

#fantroll #fantrolls #homestuck #fanfiction #dontoc fic #bullying #verbal abuse #i'll add other tags if i realize i need them

[chuckling-chemist]

12th Perigee Extra: There’s No Place Like Home For the Holidays

((It took me all the way until Christmas Eve, but I finally managed to end something not on a dissonant note. No this is nearly tooth-rotting.))

Dontoc always loved the feeling of returning home.

It was likely no more than his anxiety needing to return to some place familiar. A place where he didn’t feel like putting on airs of caring about whatever the other highbloods were talking about, when in reality he just wanted to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea and a good book. It wasn’t even the event itself, just the trolls. Highbloods trying to schmooze their way into the pockets of a seadweller. Pompous seadwellers with gaits far too awkward from too many sweeps in the ocean to give them any room to talk. They only increased his desire to return home more than ever.

But this time, it wasn’t exclusively the desire to return home. This was the first sweep where he’d make it in time to see any part of Sandyhorn’s celebration. Every sweep, something always came up that forced him around longer. This sweep however, he managed to keep Careen satisfied enough there was no fight to leave early. He agreed to leave his trunk there (he could regret the decision later), and had her drop him off just close enough to Pallia’s hive he wouldn’t have to listen to her complain too much.

He swung the glass door open, sudden smell of warmth and pine filling his nostrils. Her hive certainly hadn’t been as overly decadent as the host’s of the ball, but he loved it anyway. A rainbow of genetically engineered poinsettias circled a tree that barely avoided the top of the room. It was lit up by small bulbs holding fireflies, their bodies letting off a faint, twinkling glow to the whole thing.  It wasn’t the usual troll tradition, but the both of them agreed the tradition was unsanitary and made the hive smell awful for weeks.

As he ran upstairs and toward his respiteblock, the decorations only continued. Garland and silver tinsel wrapped around the railing to the spiral staircase and followed him down the hallway, all the way down to his respiteblock. Underneath each entryway hung some kind of plant, small with bright red berries poking out of sharp leaves, the same one Mayola once pointed out to him had all those quadrant-related traditions. Sekier must’ve put them up. His love with the holidays had always been one bordering on full on obsession.

“Dontoc?”

He stopped in place, backing right into the open doorway of his room with a poorly contained grin. Pallia bolted down the highway, looking like a gray and white blur all the way until her arms wrapped around Dontoc’s waist for a tight hug. “Oh I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re safe,” she said. “I was starting to scare myself.”

Dontoc chuckled. “Pallia, I am not quite the same troll I was when we met. I can actually hold an intelligent conversation now with a stranger.”

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just…” she sighed and buried her face in his chest. He pulled her in closer, feeling the warmth from her emanate from her. She might have been shaking. He wasn’t sure what exactly got her so distraught, but he also didn’t care. He knew her well enough this is all she’d need.

“Tell me later?” he asked softly.

She pulled away just enough to look up at him with a resolute nod. “Yeah. Tomorrow morning. I don’t wanna ruin your first 12th Perigee back here. Especially not before you get your present.”

“Oh! Goodness, speaking of such, Pallia if you do not mind for a second, I got you a gift. If you want it now, of course. Ah...if not--”

“Right!” She broke away from him, face turning teal. Dontoc tried not to miss the  “You uh...I’d give you my gift but it’s buried with everyone else’s.”

“Then we shall take care of it when the time comes. But for now, let me grab yours.” He grinned. “Wait here.”

It didn’t take him long to slide into his room and shut the door to prevent her curious stare for what the present could be. Nor was it difficult for him to find the gift, a lone bouquet of shimmering roses inside a short vase on top of his desk, underneath a tall heat lamp single handedly lighting the room. It stood out like a sore thumb among the shelves of books and stacks of papers that decorated most of his room. Dontoc carefully took them out of the vase and bundled them loosely with a spare purple bow tie before hiding it behind his back. Keep it a surprise, if only barely.

He opened the door, relieved to see Pallia hadn’t moved an inch. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, and when the door opened craned her neck to try and see past his frame, but hadn’t actually moved. He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Pallia, patience is considered a virtue, you know.”

“So’s curiosity last I remembered.” She crossed her arms. “I cannot believe you’re making me wait. Like, I know how hypocritical that statement is because I’m too lazy to grab yours right now, but still.”

Dontoc gave her a playful smile. The anticipation of giving it to her probably killed him more than it ever would her, but at this point it’s just how they spoke when they were alone. The teasing helped put both their minds at ease. “You could try giving me the magic phrase.”

“Oh, right. You mean the phrase, ‘the longer you wait, the more questions Glacin’ll have’.” She put a finger to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Or was it ‘holding back a present only holds back the inevitable endgoal?’ I’m not sure.”

Dontoc hummed, fins twitching. “Not the answer I was looking for, but you make a fair point about Glacin. So here.” He pulled the flowers out from behind his back, the smile on his face quickly turning sheepish. If he’s lucky, she would accept it and let it go without much conversation. The mere thought of giving her this already made his heart pound. “Happy 12th Perigee.”

Pallia’s eyes widened. She gingerly touched one of the petals, swiping a finger across to find the iridescence remain. No paint needed. “Dontoc...they’re….” she looked up at him, equal parts curious and conused, “not naturally found in the wild. Did you…”

“I ah...well...erm…” he paused to swallow down the feeling of his heart pounding in his throat painfully, “do you remember when you taught me how to implant genetic data into another species to turn it fluorescent? Sometime last sweep, actually. Before everything ah...happened. Well, I did that. But with flowers! After all, Vodnik gets you flowers all the time for holidays so it was a safe guess to say you enjoyed them, but that’s just Vodnik so maybe I was wrong but who knows! And so anyway, I asked Zanchi if I could possibly perform what we did with something other than fluorescence, and well...it spiraled. So yes. Your 12th Perigee gift. It’s flowers.”

“It’ssss rosessss,” she clarified quietly.

If Dontoc’s cheeks weren’t burning before, they certainly were now. “Yes. Roses. Iridescent roses. You ah….you…”

“You remembered me teaching you that? All of that?”

“I...well of course. The steps are in my room, still taped to my desk.” His fins fluttered harshly against his face. “I even remember writing in my notebook if it was at all possible to impart other nature of fishes into microbes, however we had been interrupted by Mayola and Volcor before I had a chance to ask.”

She brushed her hand over the petals again absently. They turned from greens and blues to deep violets with no more than the barest touch. Her other hand rested overtop his, making no real attempt to take the flowers away. “And you kept it secret for perigees.”

“Not so when we barely see each other,” he said lightly. “Hopefully you like it? I-I mean, you haven’t uh...haven’t said--”

“Dontoc, this might be one of the single most thoughtful gifts anyone’s ever gotten me. Seriously. There are no words to properly...wait. No. I know.” She looked up at him with a shy grin. Her expression seemed not entirely on him, but above him somewhere. “Can you um...lean down? Just for a second. It’ll make this easier.”

Dontoc laughed. It was an odd request, sure, but hardly a difficult one to appease. “Make what easier? Giving me a proper hug?”

She smirked. “Not quite.” In the blink of an eye she leaned up, a feather-light touch of warm lips pressing against his cheek for the briefest second. And just like that, it was gone. She was back in front of him, face as darkly teal as his must’ve been violet. “But closssse.”

“Pal...Pallia, that ah, well, uh--” he swallowed thickly, failing to push down the lump in his throat.

“No worse than giving me rossses for 12th Perigee,” she said cheekily. She took ahold of the roses this time -- actually the roses, not just his trembling hands -- and pulled them gently out of his grasp. “Gimme a sec to get sssome water for these, then we can meet up with everyone just in time for the next wave of celebrations. Sound good?”

“I shall await your return with bated breath.”

“Good. I’m honessstly ssso glad you're home.” With a quick nod, she took the roses and seemed to prance down the hallway toward the kitchen. Dontoc waited until she was out of view to press a hand to his flushed cheek. That...that happened. Somehow. Initiated by her. On 12th Perigee, no less. It didn’t sound real in the slightest, yet were it a dream, he would’ve been violently ripped away from the scene at this point. But he wasn’t. This was real life. He wasn’t sure if it boded well for the two of them, but it was the 12th Perigee. He could focus on it tomorrow.

After all, he had a countdown to make his way to tonight.

#fantroll #homestuck #fantrolls #fanfiction #my writing #dontoc #pallia #tooth. rotting. christmas fluff #literally all this is #almost 1700 words of sugar

[chuckling-chemist]

You Make It Feel Like 12th Perigee (14/14)

((Alright, and of those that were both planned and written, this is the last one! I’m gonna do one more at least on Saturday, but I have to wait for the King/Queen announcements for that one obviously, and while it’s gonna get counted offically as an extra, that’s only because it’s not getting written at the same times as these. Like I said before, if these actually get some traction I might write up some of the other extra scenes I cut to preserve my sanity. Much like the last piece too, this one’s song is very obvious. It’s a cover version of Something, originally by the Beatles. The specific one I mentioned is closer to Frank Sinatra’s cover, but not exactly. I took some liberties.

And for the final time: if you are not okay with unhealthy relationships, this is not the ficlet for you.))

Careen closed her eyes, letting her head rest upon the chest of her matesprit. What could she say about this night that hundreds of other trolls, be they esteemed singers or romantic poets of old, hadn’t already said better? She had her pitfalls, certainly. Her matesprit’s other friends, boorish landdwellers that they are, had a peculiar habit of causing problems anytime the two were together and encouraged him to act out for no good reason. The blueblood from earlier, the lovely and dutiful Skasol, left after the fight, citing a need to return to his own partner for the night. Careen assumed such was an easy way to escape from an uncomfortable situation without losing too much shame. Not that she needed him, anyway. When her matesprit returned from cooling off his degenerate of a moirail, he remained by her side as a good matesprit ought to. The only hiccup to an otherwise perfect night, and one she managed to resolve peacefully with him through being so generous as to spend some extra time with the rustblood.

On second thought, there was one more. She probably shouldn’t invite Siroet to come out with her next sweep. If nothing else, get her set up on a blind date to keep her wrangled in. Her friend was unfortunately incapable of stopping herself from inspiring black infidelity in scores. Which Careen would have less of an issue with if said (usually lowblood) partners weren’t also coming up to Careen and forcing her to explain that’s just how Siroet is and they shouldn’t think anything of it. While not one large issue, it was certainly several small issues that amounted to a consistent thorn in her side. Still better than the downer attitude Pothos put up, but not exactly by much.

And the music, despite the orchestra being less an orchestra and more a backing band for guest singers to appease the landdwellers, was still divine. Granted, Careen missed most of the earlier acts while she rested in the VIP room, but she couldn’t find a single flaw in their current musician: a sharp dressed tealblood in a black trilby crooning a gorgeous song about his matesprit. He kept the song slow, at a perfect tempo she could just curl up around her darling matesprit and just forget the world. Nothing fast. No blaring trumpets or honking saxophones to rip her out of her trance when a chorus of string instruments can sound so much more appropriate for this event. As it should be.

The only way such could be more flawless would be if he serenaded her while they danced. Maybe he was, just too quiet for her to hear over the singer? She hoped so. He might be on the shy side, but Careen knew he had that spark for romanticism. It’s part of why she wanted him so desperately after meeting him: he was so close to being an ideal prince for her, he only needed that push. Let go of all his lesser qualities to mold himself the way she wanted: the same way she managed to with Atenic and failed with awful little snake.

Plus Careen had to admit, she was a sucker for a fixer-upper.

Careen’s eyes fluttered open for a minute to gaze lovingly back up at her matesprit. His own eyes were closed, and his lips tightly shut. So he wasn’t singing. That's fine too, she supposed. Disappointing certainly, but….fine.

“Darling, can you sing?”

His eyes shot open to look at her quizzically. “Careen we have talked about this,” he said quietly.

She curled up further into his chest. “And what was the answer?”

“I ah...well, I cannot. Not well, at any rate.” He smiled sheepishly. “Unless one includes an ability to talk-sing? If so, I am adequate.”

“No, I don't,” she sighed. This is what she got for taking him as a quadrant long before he was ready. Almost five sweeps and he still couldn't sing? Every seadweller could sing in some capacity. The arts were always massively important, and no self-respecting noble ignored it.

But Careen was also patient, and considering how considerate he was tonight, she'd bring it up another day. For tonight, she simply rested her head back on his bony chest and made a mental note to talk to him later about it.

“You’re asking me, if my love grows. I say, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

She could hear the waver in the singer’s voice. Cover or not (Careen hadn’t bothered to commit whatever drabble he introduced his set with, but she thought he said his only performances would be covers), he had a matesprit whom he adored the same way she did her own. There was no other answer. One they must have anticipated as well, if the slowing instruments and break in vocals was any indication. She understood enough about the ins and outs of performance to know how likely that was.

He gave Careen the window for a slow release and twirl for the tempo change, one which she graciously accepted. There was no better way for them to properly slow down, no better way to truly showcase the sheer, sparkling overlay to her red velvet dress than letting her spin underneath the twinkling 12th Perigee lights around them. Or if there were, the host of the ball hadn’t thought of it. A pity, but to be expected. She can’t anticipate a landdwelling troll of any kind to have the same level of foresight she does, delusions of seadwelling grandeur or not.

Speaking of the host, shouldn’t the submissions for king and queen be in yet? She thought last sweep there had been some sort of announcement for submissions and votes. Yet tonight, she hadn’t heard anything. Not that Careen particularly cared for submitting herself, of course. She was kind enough to let some other troll feel like royalty for a single dance and prance around in an oversized, wiggler-worthy crown for the rest of the night. And her matesprit? Ignoring how such titles were largely won through popularity than anything else, and her matesprit’s refusal to socialize with those to gain the recognition necessary, he wasn’t exactly ball king material. Careen had done her research. The winners were celebrities. Charming. Artistic. Popular. All things he wasn’t, no matter how much she tried to change that. Thankfully for her, his asocial tendencies discouraged him from ultimately disappointing himself. No worrying he’d take losing personally and mope about for the rest of the night.

Then again, maybe he did care. Careen’s almost certain she had caught his eyes glance over toward one of the far tables, all the way in the back of the room away from the rest of the event, for notes. Her matesprit surprised her like that sometimes, cared about ideas and concepts that she’d never expect someone like him to care much about. He already expressed interest in dancing with another troll once, tonight. That only set up the beginning of what may be a worrying trend. Plus, she failed to see the point in not asking. It would be good to discourage him from making such an awful decision that could ruin tomorrow night.

“Dearie, I have a question.” She paused, and with a shake of her head added, “actually...two.”

Her matesprit slowed their dancing down again, letting the two of them talk easier. “Hm?”

“Do you know when they’ll announce the vote?” She dropped her face to the floor to better look up at him with her winning doe-eyes. “I’m afraid I forgot.”

“Ah...erm…” he blinked harshly in confusion as he trailed off uncertainty. “No? Afraid I hardly know what you are talking about, quite frankly.”

Here it was. The moment of truth. No going back from this question. “So...you don’t want to be the Ball King?”

The fingers that loosely kept hold of Careen tapped against her own skin. “The...the what?”

“Oh you know,” she said, freeing up a hand just long enough to push her hair back behind her fin, “the 12th Perigee Ball King and Queen. They had it last sweep. I’ve just noticed you eyeing the box at points in the night.”

“I was...I was eyeing it?” He sounded confused. Careen knew better. She knew he was trying to hide his interest.

“Well...yes.” She sighed. “If you really, truly want to nominate yourself, I suppose you can, but really I must advise against--”

She was interrupted by a sigh. “Careen, I assure you, if my lack of memory does not give it away, I am not one for schmoozing and politicking to win a dance with a total stranger.”

She had to resist letting out a huff. So he wasn’t interested in the nominations. That’s fine, too, she supposed. He couldn’t have sounded more rude toward her attempt at being helpful, but it was fine.

And anyway, she wasn’t interested in the Ball nominations to nominate him. Not even to nominate her friends. She only wanted to cast her vote she truly felt deserved it. Unlike last sweep, with the bottom of the bottom winning. Had they worked for it? Really worked? Impossible. Lowbloods didn’t work the way any other blood color did. They lacked the strength.

“Something in the way she knows, and all I have to do is think of her.”

Her matesprit sped back up to match with the song. She let her arms slide down, around the bottom of his waist. She felt him tense in surprise underneath the coarse tweed of his suit.

Careen frowned deeply, fins drooping. “It’s just me. No reason to freak out.”

He looked down at her with a confused expression. “I ah…my apologies.” He shook his head. “I erm...was un-unaware…”

“It’s fine, darling. It doesn’t upset me in the slightest. That being said,” her hands wandered down to his rear to rest. No grabbing. Not yet. But the night was young. “A healthy dose of fear is completely normal in our society, don’t you think?”

Her matesprit hummed. Not an answer, not really, but Careen loved the feelings of the sweet, soft vibrations the noise sent up her fins and down her spine. Moreso, anyway, than whenever he spoke with that posh voice of his. Not that she disliked it when he spoke of course. In fact, she very much loved hearing it when she wanted to. So long as the two weren’t physically close, she even preferred just hearing his voice. Undoubtedly, it was Careen’s favorite thing about him.

And even more than that, she loved the intimate silence that followed. The singer’s crooning quieted down to little more than a whisper into the microphone. The band played a few more bars, but they too needed to end the song eventually. Her matesprit gave her a final twirl and parted, bowing.

“Perfect gentleman as always, Dontoc,” she cooed.

He answered not with words, but with a smile. It looked somewhat forced, but that was okay. It was her night, after all, not his. He was here with her now, treating her just like the princess she actually was. A dutiful matesprit. Exactly what Careen, the rightful Heiress, always deserved.

#12th perigee ball 2018 #fantroll #homestuck #fanfiction #a tale of 12th perigee #my writing #long post #dontoc #careen #i actively felt gross writing this #careen is just...eaugh

[chuckling-chemist]

All I Want For 12th Perigee Is You (12/14)

((I didn’t exactly have a song set in mind for this, but I figured when the bar was open is when there would be a transition from traditional ball music to some other stuff. As such, something like Harlem Nocturne seems to be as good as anything else))

Calm.

That’s how Valeba felt. After such a vicious blow up, it was a weird feeling. Generally threatening the Heiress, at least whenever she threatened Mayola, got her thrilled. Jittery with a horrible combination of glee and adrenaline that she couldn’t feel anywhere else. And getting in fights with highbloods otherwise only gave her the second half. The fact that such a peaceful sensation came about after plopping herself in one of the plush bar stools only equated to a couple things: not having to continue staring at the inhuman blight named Careen, and finally getting to threaten the stupid bitch the same she way she’d done to Valeba on numerous occasions while getting away with it.

And no one had stopped her. Sure, Dontoc reminded her that Careen might try to get her thrown out if Valeba jumped her, but other than that? Nothing. Hell, even if she were to die today to drones, she’d die happy, living at absolute max satisfaction. She threatened a highblood. A seadweller. An Heiress. No one got to do that every day and live to tell the tale, especially at some fancy shindig where her major weapon had be hung up against a wall. That alone helped the anger boil away the second she walked away from the whole scene. Now, if she could follow through on those threats tonight, she’d probably be in nirvana, but she could settle for her current serenity given the circumstances.

A cold hand touched her shoulder briefly, long enough to alert her of someone’s presence, accompanied by a soft, familiar voice. “Valeba, it’s Dontoc.” She grinned. She hadn’t expected Dontoc to get out of that mess. Hell, she didn’t expect herself to get out so cleanly. The holidays must make Careen soft. Valeba couldn’t think of any other reason. “How are you doing?”

“Let’s just say, every second I don’t have to look at her brings me closer to those stupid purpleblooded Messiahs.” She gestured toward the empty seat to her left for him to sit down. When he slid into the chair, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Seriously, I’m doing alright. Just needed a second to breathe.”

He frowned. “Are you certain? Valeba, I don’t want you telling me you’re okay just to make me feel better. You were ready to murder Careen. Not that I blame you, really, I don’t, I just also very don’t want you to die. That would be on my head and--”

“I’m serious, dude.” She gave him a playful, light punch on his shoulder. “I just got to say things lowbloods only get to say in sopor-induced fever dreams to her goddamn face. This has been a long time coming.”

“I figured. It’s why I didn’t stop you until it began to leave the realm of empty threats. I don’t want to see you get thrown out because she’s being unreasonable. And anyway…” he trailed off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, “You should’ve heard me after you left. I managed to get her to shut up about me wishing to talk to you.”

“No worries. I get it.” Valeba shrugged nonchalantly. Actual culling Careen hadn’t been on the forefront of her mind when she made those threats. No more than usual, at any rate - rarely to never, all the way until she was forced to see the seadweller again. “I think I only got so pissy because it’s not the first time this happened tonight, ya know? Fuckin’ fish named Siroet.” When she saw Dontoc’s wide-eyed shock, she hurriedly added, “I didn’t do anything, mind you. It just happened.”

“No, no it’s just...Siroet? She threatened you?” Dontoc exclaimed. She heard a groan from next to her and she swiveled in her chair to find his head in his hands on the bar stool. “God, of course. I can’t believe. Do you think it was planned? I hope it wasn’t. I don’t think I could take the rest of tonight if it was. She probably knows I’m planning on getting out and is--”

“Look, as glad as I am to hear that--” She placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the small trembles of his body.  “--I don’t think the chumbucket knew who I was.  If that helps.”

“Only marginally,” he groaned. “You heard her. Careen’s barely hiding what she’s doing anymore. She tried pulling this shit again right around Atenic. I’m just...exhausted. I need out.”

“And you will. She smiled warmly. “I’m in Sandyhorn now. We’ll get you a solid out.”

He looked up quizzically. “We?”

“Yeah, you know, me and Mayola. The only two so impulsive it might rub off on you.” She laughed. “Anyway, you said you told her the fuck off tonight. Who knows, maybe it’ll be easier for you to see me now.”

“Yes, that is...that is true. And I think after this she will be on good behavior.” He sighed in relief. “Thank you, dear. And also, my apologies. I came here expecting you to need calmed and not…well…”

“No problem.” Had they not been sitting down just far enough away, or had the bartender not been eyeing them the longer they went, Valeba would’ve hugged him. For now though, she just patted his shoulder. That’s smarter than arguing with some random troll about pale PDA. “Now, how long is Careen expecting you?”

“I actually did not give a time. And Atenic is keeping her distracted in the VIP room, so probably some time from now.”

Valeba furrowed her brow. “Atenic?” How many trolls did Careen drag along? She met Siroet already, and she knew according to Mayola, Careen’s other seadweller friend was around here somewhere, but she didn’t have a face for Atenic. The only two options were the big indigoblood, or the much more petite cobalt in the snowflake dress. “You mean the one that looked kinda like--”

“Pallia?” Dontoc grimaced. “Yeah. But I do not wish to think about such. I think I just want a distraction.”

She smirked. “Good. Because Mayola’s holding back until the orchestral stuff ends. Plus, I think I’d like to ask my moirail for one last dance before he gets stolen from his wicked quadrant for the rest of tonight and tomorrow.”

He laughed, fins twitching against his face. It sounded sharper than usual against Valeba’s ears, but still genuine enough that she could say he felt better than before. “Well Valeba,” he said cheekily, “you asked just so nicely I hardly think I have the heart to refuse.”

#12th perigee ball 2018 #fantroll #homestuck #fanfiction #long post #not a starter #my writing #dontoc #valeba #a tale of 12th perigee

[chuckling-chemist]

You’re A Kind One, Miss Elsker (11/14)

((Aside from “Dance of the Fuchsiablood Fairy, this is my most clever title. Doesn’t get better than this. And if bad friendships are a squick or trigger for you, please skip.))

Some trolls lived the high life. Swinging off chandeliers with seadwellers, drinking the finest Faygo with clowns, feather boas and pretty trolls lounging on pianos as servants in tuxedos played rhapsodies on the ivories. This was true of Atenic’s friends, all of whom adored it. Pereon loved the dark, slinky dresses in elegant masks where she’d take business partners for mysterious affairs. Siroet loved the colors and entertainment scattered abound for her to find. Careen reveled in the atmosphere, the dancing and overall aesthetic of flaunting her infinite wealth. She didn’t know much about Dontoc, but anyone who comes from the underwater City of Twinkling Lights must enjoy the high life. And Pothos...well...Atenic mostly avoided thinking about him.

Did Atenic enjoy the high life? That’s a hard question. On one hand, not only did the high life enjoy Atenic; but she also hated all the boisterous, drunken, bloody parties found among lowbloods where she couldn’t even wear a pretty new dress from Kordof. She loved going out and enjoying time with her beautiful friend, Careen, which made these events fun despite the crushing anxiety that occupied her thoughts the minute Careen went away. A shame that was guaranteed at any socialite event. And when Careen was absent, Atenic felt a crushing emptiness in her bones unlike no other. It made the same nights she’d adore now impossible to enjoy. Trolls like Siroet or Pereon didn’t fill the hole the same way Careen did. So at best, she’d file her answer down with little more than a solid maybe.

This also meant tonight was no exception to the rule. This time, Careen finally managed to convince her unwilling matesprit to go out and actually enjoy the night with her for once in his life. Judging by their lack of return to the table, he succeeded at such. Siroet already left off in one of her usual Siroet-tantrums some time ago. And Pereon disappeared some time after Careen to discuss business with well-to-do highbloods in snug outfits. Only Atenic remained at the table to sip expensive punch and pick at crumbs of triple moobeast milk crumb pastry. Unlike the rest of them, she’d prefer to stay in the VIP room away from general populace lowbloods. Lowbloods meant trouble. They jeered at Atenic, despite her caste, when she couldn’t hear. Careen was adamant of such.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, pushing around crumbs in complete silence to keep away her dejection, before a chilly hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see Pereon standing behind her, smiling politely down. Another troll, a rather toned and meek-looking indigoblood who stood taller than Pereon’s own hair, stood next to her. The indigoblood’s arms rested behind her back. “Atenic,” Pereon said sweetly, “you should enjoy the ball. It’s not every day you’ll see a landdweller host like this.”

Atenic glanced down at her food, nodding absently. She liked Pereon, but Pereon didn’t understand. No one here did. None of them understood the impossible challenges Atenic experienced when Careen wasn’t around. She was...what was the word? Antisocial. Atenic was antisocial.

She craned her neck up again. Pereon was dressed as beautiful as ever, dressed in a two piece dress with a long, two tiered purple skirt and short, lacy halter top. “I am enjoying the ball. The food is very good. And I love wearing this dress! It makes me feel like an eight pointed snowflake!”

Had she been standing, she may have swished her dress for emphasis, but she settled for squirming around in her seat. It might’ve been a shorter dress, but the cute snowflake pattern on the skirt, pale blue ribbon and sheer, sparkling cape made Atenic feel like a true lady of winter. Kordof never failed in making her feel she danced around in other troll’s daydreams.

The indigoblood next to her snickered behind her hand. Pereon, though, she was too respectful for that. She merely quirked her arched eyebrow high enough to blend into her hairline. “Atenic, you do realize snowflakes have six sides, right?”

“Oh.” Where did she learn that? Must’ve been from some cheesy novel. “Sorry Pereon. You’re so smart.”

Pereon patted her shoulder. “It’s fine, little one. Anyone in your position would’ve made the mistake.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Pereon ruffled Atenic’s hair, right between the small, curved horns on her head. “Perfectly normal mistake for landdwellers. It’s why Careen took you in out of the goodness of her soul.”

“Yeah...she did.” Atenic smiled bashfully as warmth flooded and added the barest amount of blue to her face at the memory. Long ago, probably at least ten sweeps at this point, Careen found Atenic hanging around the lower castes and brought her in. Careen brought Atenic into the light of seadwelling society. Atenic learned everything Careen put in front of her, lapped up the praises and criticisms in equal fervor, remembered and internalized every facet until she perfected it to get where she stood now.

“And I’m sure Careen would appreciate if all the help she gave you was put to use.”

She frowned, kicking her legs underneath her chair as Pereon’s hand disappeared. She didn’t like it, but Pereon did have a point. Standing around here waiting for Careen disrespected the hard work she did, not just for the work Careen did in the past couple perigees for her, but for all the work Careen’s done for her in her life up to this point. “Yeah…maybe you’re right.” Atenic stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress down. “I think I’ll go out on the ballroom.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” She patted Atenic’s head a couple more times before taking the indigoblood’s hand. “You’ll know where to find me if you need me.”

Atenic nodded silently, eyeing them as the two sauntered back toward the orchestra. She wouldn’t need them. Atenic was an adult troll, long past her seventh sweep ordeal and everything. Anxious tendencies or not, she didn’t need Pereon’s help just to go find a specific troll, especially when she knew exactly where that troll would be.

Atenic scuttled her way into the main ballroom in a hurry, rushing past all sorts of lower casted trolls flitting in her way. The music’s quick tempo spurred her footsteps faster, faster toward her eventual goal. She had to be here somewhere important. Find someone important. But where was she? Amid the twirling capes and glittering adornments, she couldn’t make anything out. Nor could she find an easy way in. Not with the sheer volume of trolls. If she wanted to do anything without making a scene, she would have to wait until they thinned out.

“I simply cannot abide this betrayal of my sensitivities!!”

The voice rang out above everything else in the room, clear as day. Atenic didn’t have to see the source to know who it was.

Careen.

All worry of causing trouble washed away. She squeezed between a couple greenbloods doing some odd dance to get into the dance floor proper, frantically darting her head around to look for the voice’s owner. Surrounding trolls, mid and lowbloods mostly, danced on, blocking off Atenic’s line of sight. The curse of being a smaller troll: even when the trolls were distinctly younger and lower casted, she couldn’t see past them. But then again, she knew Careen. She knew Careen better than any other troll knew her. She knew how Careen needed to stay in the public eye in these difficult times, what with that other tyrian pink troll making a calculated effort for Empress.

She pushed her way toward the orchestra. A few trolls resisted, but she was a cobaltblood. No reason not to take advantage of such. Especially when the trolls who pushed back looked like nosy tealbloods thinking they deserved better for being a higher midblood. Someone had to remind them of their standing. May as well be her.

When she arrived, she found herself standing on the edge of what looked to be some kind of standoff. On one side stood Careen, in all her beauty, next to a tall highblood in a rather fru-fru FLARP suit. On the other side was Dontoc in that odd suit with some rust dressed in blacks and bright reds Atenic didn’t recognize. Despite the lack of trolls paying attention to them, none of the four appeared to notice her arrival to the scene unfolding in front of her.

“I just can't fucking fathom why you're being possessive over the pale quadrant!” the brownblood exclaimed. She threw her arms in the air for emphasis as she added, “ The hell do you think you are?”

“Last I checked, I am the Heiress--”

“Yes, Careen. We know.” Dontoc sighed in exasperation. He looked tired. Moreso than before they left, anyway. “That being said, heiress or not, I am allowed a dance or two with my moirail of five sweeps.”

“I was your first quadrant!” Careen stamped her foot on the floor. “I deserve to have him for the event. It's what I deserve after everything I've given him.”

With a shudder, Dontoc looked down at the floor in silence. He almost appeared to curl inward on himself, drooped fins and all.

At the same time, every aspect of brownblood bristled. Her posture straightened, her gaze angry and hateful, the fingers at the side of her body that didn't take his hand twitched violently.  “If I'm being honest, I think you deserve to have me shove my boot up your frilly waste chute but you see me parading around like I own the place,” she said darkly.

Finally, the indigoblood standing next to Careen registered the conversation. He pointed at Dontoc and said, “Control your moirail! She should realize who she speaks to.”

With a huff, Dontoc pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ignoring how wildly inappropriate you are every time you speak, especially now, why are you here? This does not concern you.” He jerked his head up. “Unless you are attempting to get something from us.”

The brownblood seemed to mutter something under her breath, but Atenic couldn't make it out over the indigoblood sputtering, “I would never do such a thing! I feel only that I give my Heiress what she deserves!”

Careen craned her head up to the indigoblood with a particularly indignant look. “What I deserve is my matesprit and I don’t know why you’re so insistent on anything otherwise.”

Atenic frowned. She deserved so much better than Dontoc. She deserved a troll to be there for anything and everything. Dontoc didn’t have the emotional energy to live with her full time and be there at any minute when she needed him. He lacked the patience. The gentle temperament she showed towards those lower than her needed to be returned to her in full.

She cautiously nudged herself out of the edge and into the center of the four of them. Her focus fell only on the Heiress. She didn’t care about any of the other three of them. “Hey, hey Careen?”

She didn’t have to look at the other two trolls to feel the daggers on her back. Careen though, Careen watched her with curiosity. “Atenic, I’m surprised you made it out,” she said. Her gentle tone soothed Atenic, calmed her anxieties the same way a good cup of hot chocolate does.  “What is it you need?”

“I just want to say I agree with whoever the big scary blueblood is. I think you deserve better too!”

Careen sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s great you feel that way, but really Atenic what I deserve is well...you know.” She gestured toward the two trolls behind her. “Someone like Dontoc.”

“A damn shame that what he deserves--”

“I would silence your tongue before I cut it myself,” Careen sneered. “Remember who you speak to, rustblood.”

“Bold words for someone trying to look pretty and nice for the cameras,” the brownblood threw back. “If you want to fight me, actually come over here and do it. Otherwise? Just shut the fuck up.”

“Oh please I have a sense of self respect. Unlike yourself,” Careen scoffed. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “Truly, Dontoc should have a troll who actually cares about what he wants.”

“That’s rich considering--”

“Valeba,” Dontoc sighed in defeat, “stop.”

Atenic whipped her head around behind her to Dontoc and the other troll. The lowblood looked upset, but the glint of murder in her eyes faded into a general glare directed toward her moirail. Dontoc took her hand as he leaned over to whisper into her ear. She frowned deeply, but the her expression softened into...something. Or maybe it didn’t so much soften as return to a neutral state. With the resting bitch face, Atenic couldn’t tell. “Right. Yeah. You’ll know where I’ll be,” she said quietly, quietly enough Atenic could barely hear it. She looked up to Careen with a scowl and before she left, growled, “Do understand though, if it weren’t for the restrictions put upon me for tonight and tomorrow, I would have culled you here and now. She sharply turned on the heel of her foot and walked out before anyone could stop her. The sea of trolls nearby them parted like an ocean as she moved.

Careen made a motion toward Dontoc, but he stepped back. “Careen? I suggest you let me go talk to her.”

“But Dontoc, this is your fault! You let that nasty lowblood into your life, and see how it’s turning out? I should just end it--”

“I don’t think she cares,” he snapped. His fins grew, making already large fins take up a good chunk of his face.

“Well maybe I care!”

“And perhaps, the last time you cared that I danced with a troll who holds no interest in women, you got possessive despite cavorting with…” he looked over to the indigoblood with a raised eyebrow “...numerous curiosities. So do what you will tonight, but understand unless you plan on making this drawn out, you are rather limited to tormenting me like last sweep, and such is a bullet the both of us know I will take. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to speak to her and calm her down proper before you must deal with the beloved kismesis of the only other Heiress competing. The same one looking for an excuse to cull you. Who is also here tonight.”

She stepped closer, seemingly unaware Atenic was in front of her as she only focused on her matesprit. “And what about everyone else? About--”

“Then maybe this time, you should have thought about someone other than yourself. Because I have. And this is, quite frankly, possibly the path of absolute least resistance for you, and yet you still threaten me. This will take a whole five minutes, and then I shall remain with you for the rest of tonight and tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Do you not understand that?”

Atenic looked frantically between the two of them. Should she...should she do something? She’d heard Careen complain about Dontoc before, but she’d never actually seen them fight. And what did Dontoc mean by threatening? Careen hadn’t threatened him. She hadn’t threatened anyone.

“Uh...Careen, maybe you can spend some time with me!” she blurted out. “Until Dontoc’s back, at least.”

Dontoc’s fins shrunk as he stared at Atenic, flabbergasted. “Um...if you wish, I suppose? Erm, thank you. Assuming it is, ah…” he looked up at Careen. “Is that a suitable compromise?”

She released her crossed arms with a huff. “That can work, yes. And if this doesn’t come back to me, Dontoc, I guess I’ll make sure your little quadrant doesn’t get thrown out.”

He nodded, and as he turned around to walk away, Atenic could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. “Of course, dear. Always so forgiving,” he remarked dryly. “I will meet you in the VIP room when I’m finished.”

Careen’s face brightened up. Dontoc was right: she was just so forgiving. “Okay darling! See you there! Come on Atenic, we shall dance in private. I know how you dislike crowds.”

Dontoc nodded, but Atenic wasn’t sure he completely heard, otherwise he might be happier about the whole state of affairs. Their fight was over, and Atenic managed to solve it herself! Maybe she could even slide into being an actual quadrant with Careen. Moirail? Or... auspistice. If it was possible to auspistice a matespritship.

But when Careen shooed away the rather confused-looking indigoblood and took Atenic’s hand, she realized she didn’t care. For this one moment, she was the Heiress’ world. It was all she needed.

#12th perigee ball 2018 #fantroll #homestuck #fanfiction #long post #not a starter #my writing #careen #dontoc #valeba #atenic #a tale of 12th perigee

[chuckling-chemist]

Let’s Start The New Sweep Right (10/14)

((Opening starts with Careen, so again, if bad relationships upset you I advise just skipping down. Song referenced this time was Libertango. Love me that Libertango))

“Darling, I’m going to dance with a very important political troll. I do hope you don’t mind, because frankly I don’t think you can change mine.”

Dontoc nodded absently. It hadn’t taken particularly long for Careen to end up getting bored of him after the first couple dances and had pretty much left him near the wall for her to flit about the ballroom. He offered to go with her out of obligation, but she declined, citing improper dress for the kind of politicking she needed to do at this event. Not that being told he can’t go with her upset or disappointed him in any way, but it did lead the way to having nothing to do. Initially he tried looking for Mayola or Valeba, but the search ended rather quickly when the crowd in the main floor thickened and his anxiety took over. Dontoc ended up hanging on the wall next to a bowl of unfortunately mediocre punch kept cool by an ice sculpture of some sort of bird.

“Dontoc? Are you even listening to me?”

He jumped, inhaling sharply. A shaky hand ran through his hair, trying to calm himself. “My...my apologies. Did you say something? I am afraid I may have become lost in my own thoughts there.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I’m going to dance with another troll, and you can’t stop me from doing so.”

He blinked owlishly and furrowed his brow in thought. “Oh...yes. Yes. You just said that. Was...was there nothing else?”

“You’re not going to try and stop me?”

“Careen, you are your own troll. I am not going to become upset and possessive simply because you wish to dance with…” he trailed off as he looked around for whoever she was talking about, but found no one amidst the sea of trolls, “with someone political.”

She tapped her foot with tightly pursed lips, making soft clicks with enough fervor Dontoc thought it might go through the floor. He steadied his breath, bracing himself for the worst. They were not about to have this fight. They were not about to fight because he let her do what she wanted.

Another troll appeared out of the crowd: a towering indigoblood, taller than Dontoc by a good few inches, in a pair of pantaloons and puffy white shirt who’s pompadour made him instantly recognizable to him. He wrapped an arm around Careen’s shoulders with a noticeable smarmy grin. “I see we meet again, seadweller.”

Dontoc gave the troll a lazy once over before turning back to Careen. He hadn’t noticed the tight boots going overtop his pants, up past his knee and tight enough it hugged every crease of his body to the ankle, and to be frank he wished desperately he hadn’t. “Please, do not mind me,” he told her, amiable smile plastered on his face. “I can entertain myself for a few songs.” Not as if you have not already led me to do such a thing.

“But are you sure?” Careen asked. She patted the indigoblood’s hand. “You’re not upset or anything?”

He shook his head. “We have already had this conversation. That would be--” Dontoc stopped as Careen whipped her and her partner around wordlessly away from him to mesh in with the waltzing dance partners. “--idiotic,” he finished softly.

Well, it wasn’t a fight.

He filled his champagne flute up to the top with more punch. He held no desire to return to the VIP area where Atenic likely still sat in perfect silence to stare vacantly until some other troll thought her mannerisms were cute or endearing and not deeply, deeply disturbing. And while the area was certainly less populated, the closer quarters made it feel just as busy as the main floor without the benefit of being able to easily escape outside without passing by burly bouncers in suits far too tight for them, nor was it possible to really disappear into a crowd when there wasn’t technically one to begin with. Hanging on a wall here to watch the orchestra musicians switch out between sets made him look no different from the other rainbow of castes collecting near the wall for whatever reason. Staying near the wall in the VIP area, where every troll appeared to have brought a date or have the charisma to snag another troll going stag, actively made him look lonely.

Another song started up, this one opening up with the director leading others into a steady clap in time to the staccato hits of the piano. Many of the trolls closer to the orchestra dancing picked it up immediately. Some of the more clever ones even worked it into their tango. Dontoc watched a few trolls not far from him that also wallflowered to the wall give half-hearted claps. He didn’t himself, but he also didn’t wish to set down his glass.

“Too good for a few claps?”

Now there was a voice he wasn’t soon to forget. A voice like good chocolate: smooth, familiar and reminiscent distinctly of late mornings on the computer in comfort. He didn’t even need to look over to check who was talking. He could never forget the voice of his moirail.

“Perhaps one should look in the mirror, for I at least have justification,” he said cheekily. He lifted up his glass, taking the smallest sip before setting it down gently on the table.

“Well I do too.”

He turned to her, quirking an eyebrow. “And what, my dear, would that be?”

“This.” With a laugh, she took his arm and pulled him into a tight embrace. Dontoc let his head bury itself into her shoulder. The warmth from her body radiated from her, from the arms wrapped around his back and the hair tickling his face that made his fins twitch and flutter. “God Dontoc, never knew you were one for PDA,” she joked.

“I think the troll world at large will manage to accept a brief moment for two moirails who have not seen each other in...oh goodness how long has it been?” He pulled his head up to look at her, letting his arms fall down to her hold her hands. Valeba was radiant. Now that they were close up, he could see every intricate piece to her outfit. And was her eyeliner winged? Did Mayola convince her to wing eyeliner? “Goodness you look fantastic. And Ardeen is not even here to watch.”

“Yeah, but can you imagine Ardeen here?” She turned around briefly as the accordion swelled to take a look at all general populace. “He owns like...one suit. Maybe. I’ve never seen it. I think he’s fucking with me.”

“Does it still fit?”

“Did yours when we first met?” She smirked.

Dontoc smiled sheepishly, purple blush inflaming his cheeks. “Ah...well I had yet to phase them all out, yes. Ace...ace...Aisral is a very busy troll, you are aware, and well, she had to fix all of my suits due to the lack of care I had given them and... oh you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Well yeah.” Her smirk fell. “Everything okay?”

“As okay as it can be when you are stuck with Careen. And her company. And the crowd. And....” He sighed, shaking his head. “I should be glad she abandoned me some time ago, but...well, you know. Afraid it is rather limiting.”

“Yeah, I do.” Her smile returned in coupling with gently squeezing his soft hand in her calloused one. You need to take your thinkpan off things, or do you wanna talk?”

His fins fluttered furiously to match the deepening violet. “Here? Valeba, a hug is one action, but we are moirails and this is not a Sandyhorn party. For the two of us to curl and talk so brazenly at this would be frowned upon. Normally, I would not care so much, but you’re Mayola’s kismesis now and--”

She chuckled. “Okay, I get it.” With a pat of his shoulder, she added, “Doing it at a formal ball with your moirail is eons different from doing it at a diner with a crush.”

Dontoc’s mouth fell open. “Valeba that was your idea!”

She wasn’t wrong by any stretch of the imagination. Valeba was one of the only few trolls who knew how his and Pallia’s relationship existed in a dubious red area, seeing as it was her advice that backfired.

She grinned. “And did it make things feel better, after the awkwardness faded away?” Dontoc wanted to answer to try and refute it, but his phone got to him first. Lying and saying he wasn’t texting anyone was one thing. Trying to convince his moirail he was texting anyone other than Pallia was another story entirely. “That’s her isn’t it?”

He slid his phone out just enough to see Pallia’s name flash over top the words “glassin’s utterly trasshed lol” along the top of the screen. He held back a grin as the mental image of what Glacin could possibly be doing to necessitate a text flooded his mind. Hopefully there was a picture attached to it. Pallia wouldn’t just hang him out to dry.  “Of course.” He slid his phone back down to look back up at her. Checking it around company was impolite. “You know me too well, Valeba.”

“Well first off, I’m your moirail. Pretty sure that’s expected.” 

“This is true, yes.”

“Second, I’d like to think you’re pretty easy to figure out.” She shrugged nonchalantly. She paused to push a loose strand of hair that fell from her bun behind her ear. “You’re a geek who does geek things with anxiety, so sometimes you don’t do geek things. Like now, you’re hanging on the wall because there’s a lot of people and these types of fancy shindigs really aren’t your thing.”

Dontoc nodded. His hands slid into his pockets, pushing the tweed jacket back behind them. “So you can predict, theoretically of course what I shall do next with a relatively low margin of error.”

“Probably.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I am afraid, your calculations are off.” 

She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “And where would that be, oh wise seadweller?”

The song ended in a flurry of sixteenth notes running about the scale. Anyone watching, on the dance floor or out of the corner of their eye, could catch the bowstrings of the violins moving about furiously all the way until the finale. Trolls, dancers and onlookers alike, stopped what they were doing to applaud the orchestra musicians. A couple doing the solos even stood up and bowed. Somewhere in that crowd was Careen and that ridiculous indigoblood, possibly laughing and judging him for something now that he was away. Careen undoubtedly also told him more, about his choice of moirail and “unwilling” attitude about dancing. He wasn't sure if Careen was trying to send some kind of message (what that would be, he couldn't begin to fathom) or if she was attracted to men in ill-fitting clothing. It certainly explained her initial draw to him, much as that thought it really was that shallow left a bad taste in his mouth.

But Dontoc shut all that out. Focusing on the crowd led to nothing good, especially now of all times where doing such led to the desperate want to leave. Not when he wanted to do something unexpected. He let out a slow breath, silencing his thoughts and forcing his shaky hands to steady long enough to take hers again. A sly smile played on his lips. “From the sounds of it, you do not anticipate for me to request an official dance. And yet, I would like to ask my lovely moirail if she would like to dance. Crowd be damned.”

He watched with amusement as Valeba’s expression morphed from surprise; looking about the room to hide the rising blush on her cheeks; then confusion, then playful. She mirrored his own smile with shining eyes. “Well…” she said lightly as she shifted to the balls of her feet to ready herself, “since you asked nicely, I just don’t think I can refuse.”

#12th perigee ball 2018 #fantroll #homestuck #fanfiction #long post #not a starter #my writing #valeba #dontoc #a tale of 12th perigee

[chuckling-chemist]

Dance of the Fuchsiablood Fairy (6/14)

((Song this time is Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Also gonna give out some content warnings for Careen’s aberrant behavior, so if you’re not okay with reading unhealthy relationships...just skip this. I actually should’ve added that to the last one, but I don’t think it was crazy obvious. Anything else involving her is only more obvious from this point out.))

“Come on, darling. Dinner’s wrapping up, let’s go on out.” Careen leaned close to him, taking his hand. “You can’t wallflower forever and I want to dance.”

Dontoc looked down at the half-eaten flan on his plate. His mind still buzzed unpleasantly from all the action earlier, between Careen being...Careen...and highbloods already acting superior for not acting like him. The whole thing was already striking him uncomfortably close to his days back in schoolfeeding. Days he wished desperately not to repeat, even nearly ten sweeps later. As such, leaving the quiet of the VIP area to possibly run into more trolls ready to antagonize him for whatever reason when instead he could make an attempt at finishing the overly-sweet food was tempting.

Then again, staying in the VIP room also did nothing to help his anxiety. Less press, but more influential trolls -- the same kind that he expected to see running around Sindaria. Staying here meant sticking around with Pereon, Atenic and Siroet. Which, granted, the latter two were better to have stick around than Pothos’ nonstop swings from total apathy to non-stop whining, but he would sooner actually return to his days of nonstop torment than listen to one more word out of his mouth. It didn’t change Siroet’s aggressive attitude over any minor inconvenience and Atenic’s absurd lack thereof, nor did it change just how little he wanted to be around them or Pereon in the slightest.

Plus, if she realized who exactly he was messaging right before that last outburst, she’d retaliate. Her increasingly possessive behavior, in particular last sweep when Mayola swept him away, was indicative as such. He may as well make the best of a bad situation.

He set his fork down and pushed his plate away. Just pretend it’s anyone but her. “That sounds pleasant,” he said as he stood up. He offered out his arm for her to take, something she apparently interpreted as a moment to cling to his side. “Last I remembered, such was the point of the evening.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and lightly asked, “Unless I have been wildly mislead?”

She frowned, batting her eyelashes slowly. “But Dontoc you were here last sweep.”

“I know, however--” he stopped, sighing. This wasn't Pallia. He couldn't joke like that to her -- even if it was a sense of humor more natural to him, Careen found no joy in it. That wouldn't necessarily be a problem, but he couldn't place what she did find funny, even after four-or-so sweeps. “Never mind. My apologies. Simply an attempt to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah A+ job you did there,” Siroet sneered. She stood up, smoothing down the prickly green pieces of her dress. Kordof managed to outdo himself - somehow, despite everything, he managed to make a fully functional dress simultaneously look like a decorated tree, yet make her look completely similar to everyone else. “What a goddamn comedian.”

Dontoc rolled his eyes. Were it someone else, someone he hadn’t been putting up with for a while now, maybe he wouldn’t have felt the visceral need to snap back. “Well it was not you I was trying to please, so the fact I did not means I possibly succeeded.”

“Whatever.” She crossed her arms, letting her gaze flutter away in what he suspected was a grand show of annoyance, but it failed to do anything emotionally to Dontoc and Careen completely missed it. “If you need me, I’ll be spending my time with someone better than Mr. Academic Dorkfuck.”

“Okay Siroet! We’ll see you on the floor.” She detached just enough from him to give Siroet a pleasant wave. “She’s just so funny, isn’t she? Makes it worth her mood swings.”

Dontoc shook his head. He wrapped an arm around her hip, pleased to find between the fabric of his own tweed suit and her red velvet dress, the usual coolness from her body couldn’t be felt. She didn’t quite go limp in his arms, but it was obvious she wanted him to actively walk them over. “Is that why you keep her around?” He chuckled. “I was under the impression she’s there to cancel out Pothos. But your reasoning makes more sense.”

He felt Careen tighten up next to him. “Dontoc…” she sighed. “I don’t appreciate you talking about my friends like that.

He nodded. He intended for it to be another joke. Sure, he didn’t exactly like Siroet, but Pereon got away with snide comments all the time. It only felt fair he could get one shot, in jest or otherwise, directed at the same troll who only ever made snide comments towards him. But of course, this was Careen. Instead, he murmured, “Ah...right. Yes. Apologies.”

“As you should. Frankly, I find it so unattractive to need to take such cheap tactics at another troll. So she’s violent! But trolls are just that Dontoc. Violent. Well,” she paused to give a dainty laugh, “except me. My own lack of violent nature is a character flaw of mine. But you knew that.”

“Mm. I do, yes.” The two walked past the teal ropes of the VIP lounge and into the main ballroom to the swell of trumpets and elegant strings. Trolls of all castes now wandered the area, most in twos and threes, as they headed toward the dancing area near the orchestra pit. He couldn’t make out many of the specifics when it came to outfit stylings or theme, but he didn’t have to this sweep. Aisral never gave him a mission to pay attention and take pictures, so he most certainly wasn’t going to.

“Good! Good. I know it’s hard for you to remember when you’ve got that hivemate of yours spreading you dangerous rhetoric and lies. It’s just so--oh.” She pulled on Dontoc’s sleeve, halting him right at the entrance to the dancefloor to point at two trolls, both women, walking by closely. “Well look what the purrbeast dragged in kicking and screaming.”

He followed her gaze over to the two trolls, one seadweller and one landdweller, yet both so close he could barely make out their faces. They both stood at nearly the exact same height with long hair, but one was fully covered in a long, dark ball gown with a high collar and intricate bracer-like sleeves while the other wore greens and blues that shimmered like the ocean as she moved. And the tall horns -- the former with horns identical to a deer, and the latter that curled up at the top -- gave the two trolls a level of familiarity he didn’t fully expect tonight. And the sight of them together, something the seadweller had worriedly expressed may never happen just a sweep prior thanks to her own fears and insecurities, so closely and intimately engaged made his heart flip inside his chest.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. Valeba’s head perked up for a second - she must’ve heard the exclamation - and she grinned, winking at him for the briefest moment before ducking her head back down to her kismesis. And did she look wonderful. Full and lively, with a bounce in her step and her head held high. In a dress with bright, candy red tips in her hair that accented equally bright lipstick. The move up to Sandyhorn was good for her, it seemed. A shame he couldn’t actually help in the slightest as Careen kept him occupied the whole time. “I was unaware Mayola managed to convince Valeba to come. Perhaps I should--”

The iron grip on his arm from earlier in the night returned in full force. “And lower yourself to speaking to someone so much lower on the spectrum, and unabashedly acts like a wild beast in public? I think not.”

“Careen, she is my moirail,” he pointed out. “That never did change.”

“Yes, and I’ve always expressed a distaste for your taste in the conciliatory quadrants.” She waved her free hand, the one not currently gripping him like a vice, airily. “The rust, the little tramp--”

Dontoc swallowed down the growl that nearly escaped his throat. It didn’t matter if the tramp comment was directed at Valeba, or if she was still under the (willing?) delusion that Pallia had some ridiculous pale crush on him. “Careen, your personal feelings of my other quadrants are most certainly none of your business,” he said coolly. “Have I spoken ill of Pereon?”

“I’m not in a quadrant with Pereon. Pereon’s too busy for quadrants of any sort.” He looked down at her to catch her frowning deeply. “Somehow.”

“Fine.” His fins twitched in irritation. “Do you speak ill of Pereon’s choice for no quadrants?”

“Pereon’s not in any of my quadrants.”

And this is why I don’t speak my opinions. Dontoc ran his free hand through his hair. “Never mind, then.” He did a quick scan for Mayola and Valeba, but the both of them managed to disappear into the crowd. Probably the best for the both of them, if not necessarily for him. “Let’s just...let’s just put this behind us and dance. That is why we left, after all.”

Her grip relaxed with a giggle, eventually meeting up with his hand. “It is, isn’t it?”

The music from the orchestra pit swelled into the ending of the song in a rather dramatic flare. It left a moment of silence for Dontoc to sweep her up and pull her onto the smooth, hardwood floor. The next song started softly with the soft keys of a celestia intermingled with clarinets. Careen’s fins flitted and she sighed and giggled as he silently led her in a simple dance in time to the music. For a moment, however briefly, he could remember how exactly he got himself  wrapped up such a relationship with her.

“You’ve really come so far,” Careen said quietly. “You weren’t nearly this proficient a few sweeps ago. A proper seadwelling gentleman. A lord for his lady.”

That much was, actually, true. While the Empress encouraged such knowledge, he never cared for the classes and instead put his focus into, in his eyes, more fruitful labors. So while the other kids learned waltzes and foxtrots, he planted himself on the floor with a book of some sort, or his classwork if he didn’t want to finish it too fast. And pushing him into it through peer pressure -- a strategy preferable by seadwelling teachers as opposed to any sort of legitimate leadership -- only ever made him reject the whole idea harder. So Dontoc hadn’t known much about proper formal ball etiquette until he entered a relationship with Careen and had to build everything from the ground up. Now, so long as they stay in relatively simple dances, Dontoc looked no different than anyone else here so long as his partner held equal experience.

“I do generally try to be, yes.” He lowered Careen into a brief dip in time to the woodwind’s glissando. “Hopefully that is not a problem.”

When he pulled her back up, she poked his nose. He had to fight not to instinctively scrunch it. “Dontoc, you accepting what you should be is the opposite of a problem. Especially on such a night like this.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You mean 12th Perigee?”

“No.” She pursed her lips. “Well...yes. In a way. I’m aware we’ve been fighting more because for some reason you just abhor my advice, but I’m glad that for the most part you’re giving me this night to have fun.”

And right there, whatever veneer she managed to set up ripped away like a painful band-aid. Dontoc blinked harshly in confusion as he gave her a quick spin, the sheer part of her dress brushing against his leg. “Ah...yes. Right. Of course.”

Careen pulled herself closer to him, sighing softly. “I mean, aside from that suit debacle last month, you’ve thankfully come to your senses with everything else involving tonight.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “...Which would be?”

“Oh you know!” She giggled again. “Letting me pick where we stay, you haven’t had your face buried in your tablet like last sweep to get other trolls to pity you and ask for dances, and you’ve barely left my side just like a good matesprit... even when seeing your moirail just now. Among other things of course.”

“Mm.” He swallowed thickly, forcing down any discomfort that whole idea brought him to smile instead. Well, I am glad you find my behavior acceptable.”

“Acceptable for now, yes. Hopefully you can keep this up.” Her fins twitched. “I’m sure Pallia will understand.”

The words made him go cold right there. He figured she knew he had been texting her - despite her repeated requests to not message anyone over the weekend - but the reminder that not only did Careen know, but might take it out on her still made his heart drop uncomfortably down the pit of his stomach. Thankfully, Careen still had a good enough hold on him, but he could feel her start to falter anyway. “Ah...yes. Right. Apologies.”

The song ended in a long trill. He watched, never breaking eye contact on his end, as Careen broke away to spin around without his lead, dress circling and sparkling all the while. When she finally finished, he bowed politely. “Now, Careen, if you would please excuse me, I would like to sit for a minute.”

Her fins drooped as she crossed her arms “But we just got out!”

“Could you not find another partner?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Certainly there are many trolls who want to dance with the Heiress.”

“Yeah...but…” she jutted her lower lip out in a pout. Dontoc sighed. He’d only be able to put up with so much of this if she continued, but for now, to keep her distracted, he still had energy to appease her in full.

“Very well,” he said finally. “One more.”

#12th perigee ball 2018 #fantroll #homestuck #fanfiction #a tale of 12th perigee #long post #my writing #not a starter #careen #dontoc

[chuckling-chemist]

A Milkshake for Two

((I needed to feel better so I wrote fluff. Specifically flustered dorks who can’t fucking spit it out and still won’t. There’s probably way too much dialogue. It happens. Also, if you did read the tailoring drabble I posted not long ago, this happens only a night or two before that fic. As such, they’re 14ish sweeps and this is considered ‘modern day’ in the scheme of things.))

“Pallia, please don't make such a fuss, it's unkind to your features.”

“Unkind? Careen if you're going to do everything you can to make sure your guests don't talk to me, don't act like it's ssssssome idiotic attempt at my appearance!” Pallia yelled. “The only reason I'm here anyway is because Mayola practically begged me.”

The few trolls walking into the room stopped. They didn't seem to know what to do. Pallia couldn't say she blamed them. When you're invited to a fancy formal ball, you don't expect one of the guests to end up in a screaming match with the other. In particular, you don't expect it in some dark green restingblock hiding in the back of the hive, away from everyone else.

Careen raised a perfectly plucked brow. “Oh? Are you absolutely certain you aren't chasing after someone else?” she asked. “One of your hivemates, perhaps?”

“Who?” Pallia asked. “Who am I, someone wholly uninterested in quadrants, chasing?”

Careen was silent as she crossed her arms over her violet corset-style top, glaring daggers. “We both know who I'm talking about.”

Pallia rolled her eyes.  She did, it was true. And it hadn’t been the first time Careen accused her of seducing (could an asexual troll even seduce someone?) him and dragging him down. “Then tell Mayola I'm sssssorry I sssstill can't tolerate your presssence to help her get through thisssss fucking party.”

She didn't let Careen answer, instead marching out of the room, only stopping briefly to apologize to both Mayola and a goldblood in dark sunglasses (hiding his psionic to keep from being a battery) who Pallia actually spent the party with, that she was leaving early due to outlying circumstances. Mayola didn't buy it for a second, and it took some promising of meeting up later before heiress let her go. But at least she left it at that. Pallia was glad; this goldblood was interested in theoretically assisting with research, and she would happily accept a computer engineer on her team. She wasn't sure what he'd think about all this, and didn't particularly want to know.

From there, she found herself sitting alone in a back corner of a late-night Sandyhorn diner, furiously texting Aisral about the whole event.

Fucking Careen. She deserved... something. Something worse than Pallia occasionally yelling at her after Careen manages to go out of her way to ruin her night. This time, from Careen going out of her way to interrupt her rather pleasant conversation with the goldblood. He seemed massively uncomfortable by the whole thing, and Careen nearly made him stay as witness to “Pallia’s natural violent nature”. At least she managed to get him out before the blow up.

And most obnoxiously of all, she never blew up. Careen would become snide and condescending, but she didn't get angry the way Pallia was used to. She could deal with yelling and violence. But the constant treatment that she was a wiggler, talking over her and accusing her without any further explanation? It infuriated her like nothing else. She wasn't sure how anyone put up with it, much less people like Mayola or Dontoc -- the former who had to for political reasons and the latter who just….liked her. Somehow.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead as Aisral sent a flurry of furious messages. She knew why Dontoc liked her -- sort of. And logically it made sense. Isolation, social or otherwise, did things to a troll that society never wanted to acknowledge. Maybe if she were in the same position, repeatedly told she was a useless excuse of her caste for a good chunk of her life, she would have reacted similarly. But then again, wasn't she? Simultaneously, she always had Aisral and Dontoc….didn't. Not for a while, anyway. So she had no true frame of reference. 

It certainly didn't help that Careen seemed absolutely convinced there was something going on between them for reasons that frankly made no sense. The two were friends, yes. And they lived together. And for Pallia to say Dontoc wasn't that geeky cute she preferred, or how charming he became once he relaxed, was a lie. That being said, the two barely even saw each other anymore, down to her not even seeing him at the whole ball. Or that their relationship lasted long enough to surpass the 3-4 sweep threshold in which losing interest was most likely. If anything, Careen should be less concerned now than she was sweeps ago, and yet she became more erratic and defensive with each passing sweep.

But, if she had to really reason it out, if she had to fill the red quadrant and didn’t use the moirallegiance to make it past pailing seasons, and if Dontoc were available, and if he were somehow okay with the whole asexual thing, he wouldn’t be a bad partner. He wouldn’t even just be a good partner. She’d have a matesprit who she could curl up and watch bad movies with, someone who went along with even the most seemingly inane of decisions (including the multiple times. She’d have a best friend for a matesprit. What could be better?

It was a shame their friendship put her back on Careen’s radar.

“Excuse me dear, is this seat taken?” a posh, distinctly familiar voice asked. Pallia jerked her head up, finding the tired smile of Dontoc standing at the end of the table. His hair looked just as messy as usual. Pallia didn't have the energy to say anything, she just waved him down. He slid down toward the end of the booth, the whites of his suit standing in stark contrast to the dark colors of the diner.

“Did Aisral text you?” she eventually asked.

“Actually this time you can blame Mayola. She made it her personal goal to find me and tell me you left,” he said. “I daresay no one has even realized I left.”

Pallia snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure at your anniversssary party they won’t noticssse you’re gone.”

“Careen certainly seemed extremely worked up and concerned with something I frankly held no interest in regarding Mayola. I highly doubt she will attempt to contact me tonight. But just in case-” He slid his hand into his pocket, revealing a violet phone covered in a light gray case. He pressed a few buttons and set it on the table, letting it vibrate harshly as the small legs curled into the blackened screen. “-I shall take the measures to ensure we are uninterrupted.”

Pallia smiled weakly. “Ssssshe’s angry at Mayola?”

Dontoc gave her a Cheshire cat grin. “Absolutely livid. I think she finally found out Mayola is taking this Heiress thing seriously.”

“Oh.” She exhaled, letting her shoulders droop for the first time since arriving. That took a weight off her. “Conssssidering she’s insssssissstent I’ve got ssssome kind of flusssssh crusssssh on you.” She groaned again and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ssssorry for the hissss. I know it’sss bad right now. Ssstill upssset.”

Dontoc blinked harshly several times, mouth opening and closing like a fish with his fins fluttering wildly in some kind of bizarre attempt at processing the information. Then, finally, he managed to squeak out, “Huh.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who’ssss confussssed,” she said. “Though I haven’t told Aissssral that yet. Will do ssssoon. Don’t worry I’m not gonna pussssh any of that on you.”

“Pallia, you so artfully avoid any conversation about Careen, I would truly be more worried if you did.” He frowned, gaze flickering down for a second before locking back onto her.

“You ssssay that asssss you bolt from the party to find me,” she pointed out.

He gave her a playful smirk. “Attempting to quiet Mayola does not count.”

“We both know that’s impossssssible.”

“Yes. It is. But if I do not attempt, then Aisral will certainly be upset, and she is still designing our costumes for Night of Frights. It would be dreadful of her to burn it two months before the date.” He quirked an eyebrow. “By the way, do you still wish to attend? I understand wishing to back out.”

Pallia crossed her arms. “Oh no. We’ve had thessse plans ssssince we ssstarted lissstening. I’m not backing out because of one bad night.”

“Should I be worried about your inclination to play an evil scientist working with the horrorterrors?” he asked dryly.

“At this rate, I’d file it under a possssibility,” she muttered.

Another smirk, one that she mirrored right back, however pitifully. Joking always put her in a better mood. “I feel like this should be nipped in the bud before it becomes a problem.”

“And how are you going to do that? Cassssst Allies?”

“Perhaps.” She watched as he craned his neck around to observe the empty room around them. As he stood up, he gave her a slight bow and added, “But I think I have a better idea.”

She cocked her head in confusion, mouth open to ask, but he was gone before any words could form. She watched as he approached the counter toward the same peppy brownblood that seated her not long ago. He glanced over at the table and waved shyly Pallia’s gaze dropped to the phone underneath the table, heat pooling to her face and down her neck.

“Sssstop letting Careen messsss with your nucleon,” she muttered. It’s just Dontoc. A troll who she had known for a solid four sweeps now. A troll who ducked out of more important events to spend time with her (like now), willingly went along all the times she wanted to drag him out of the hive, curled up in her lap like a purrbeast (and she had done the same), and happily assisted in experiments that went on far longer than they should have. The same troll who went out of her way to find her in a diner after she stormed out all because Mayola tipped him off.  But that ignored their large caste difference...among other things.

Careen was looking for reasons to get hate her. That’s all.

She didn’t look back up until she heard his voice again. “Consider it a gift.”

“Consider wh--oh.” On the table next to her was a tall chocolate milkshake, whip cream and all. “Dontoc you really didn’t have to.”

“You looked miserable when I arrived. Truly the least I could do.” With an chuckle, he added, “However, of course I desired one myself.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. He wasn’t wrong: even with the joking, she felt miserable. Mentally she might have calmed, but she could still feel the blood rush through her body, putting everything on edge. Her throat still felt choked up, and she was afraid any minute she might end up crying, even his cheery tone. “You didn’t get one.”

He grinned and stuck a second straw into the milkshake. “Yes, I did.”

And there it was again. That creeping heat on her neck that froze her brain faster than the milkshake ever could. Granted, he must have been doing something right. The anger she felt over the whole situation froze with the rest of her thoughts, replacing it with...something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She propped herself up in in her chair to take a long sip from the milkshake, hoping to steady her racing thoughts. The milkshake was helping, if only as a proper distraction to whatever growing situation was at hand.

“Well you’ll have to hurry up or else it’ll be gone,” she eventually said. It was all that could come to her head. The rest was replaced with some awful combination of dissipating irritation and growing nervousness.

“I will be fair, I was not sure you would be okay with me drinking at the same time as you,” he admitted. “You seem ah…”

“Anxious?” She pushed the milkshake closer to him, forcing her to rest her lean over more. Her arms laid flat on the table as her hands wrapped around the bottom of the frosted glass. “It’s better than angry.”

“Not angry is good. Anxious is not.” He took the second straw and took a short sip. “We do not need two of me running around, I feel.”

“You’re doing fine right now for some reason,” she said.

“Oh trust me Pallia, I am still a complete mess of nerves at all points in this discussion.” He smiled sheepishly and placed his cool hands over Pallia’s on the glass, telltale tremors of nervousness not stopping until his hand completely overlapped. She shuddered the minute they touched, but whether it was because of the temperature difference or something else she wasn’t sure. “I have simply gotten better at hiding it vocally.”

Her gaze dropped back down to the table, glasses sliding down her face. She wanted to push them back up her nose, but simultaneously didn’t want to move. This was pleasant. Nerve-wracking, but...pleasant. If that were possible. “I dunno, you’re not generally so bold as to try to hold my hand in public unless we’re playing it up to get highbloods to back off.” She took another long drink. “...Are we?”

His fins fluttered. “Ah...no. But you’re are lower in caste, and as such your hands are pleasantly warm.”

“So you were looking for an excuse.”

Dontoc laughed before taking another sip. Between the two of them (or well, Pallia with a smidgen of assistance), the milkshake had almost disappeared in the short amount of time they sat down together. “It is chilly outside.”

“Says the troll who is drinking a chocolate frozen moobeast drink with me in a cold diner and admitted he wanted one himself,” she said lightly. “If you want physical contact you can just tell me.”

He smiled shyly. “Do you?” He paused, and expression, fins and all, dropped. “I can stop if I am making you uncomfortable. I...well, I know you have your preferences about being touched.”

Pallia bit her lip. She was far from uncomfortable. Really, the fact that this wasn’t bothering her in the slightest worried her more at this point. It was one thing to do this in the privacy of their own hive, where only Aisral could make quips towards them. It was another to have their faces sit inches away from each other, sharing a milkshake like matesprits.

God this is weird.

She must’ve been silent for longer than she thought. In an instant, he pulled everything away completely. He didn’t break his gaze - not completely anyway, as Dontoc seemed more focused on some spot above her than her - but his fins certainly flapped hard enough she could feel the wind. “I ah...sorry. I am afraid I must have gotten carried away in my attempt at bringing your attention away from--”

She reached over to take his hand on instinct before it retracted under the table. “No you’re fine! Honesssst!”

“Are you sure? I do not want to continue if you--”

She rolled her eyes. “Dontoc, you know me. I’m more than happy to tell you I want you to sssstop.” She gave him a warm smile. “But I get why you’d be freaked out. We haven’t exactly...uh…”

He nodded and ran his free hand through his hair. “No, I understand. Though ah...if you would prefer dear, we could possibly call it and go home.”

Pallia cocked her head. “You’re not going back to the party?”

“Yes, because I shall have fun with strangers more than with a dear friend.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Will you be okay? About everything with well-” he gestured vaguely in the air “-Careen?”

“Hopefully. If she’s more angry at Mayola right now, then I might not have to deal with her.”

Dontoc hummed and shoved his hand in his pocket. Had it always sounded so pleasant when he did that? She knew she enjoyed it, but more than that she enjoyed what it came with: long conversations with lots of back and forth. But this is the first time anything made her feel effervescent for the first time in hours. Or maybe he always did it to her, and she only just now noticed. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Her thoughts broke when he took her free hand again, sliding a cool piece of silk. She looked down to see the barest hint of what looked like a violet handkerchief. His handkerchief. “Take this,” he said. He sounded closer. He was closer. Back to the same closeness as with the milkshake. Close enough the seadweller chill combined with those fins made her shiver. “It should serve as a reminder.”

Pallia looked at him quizzically. “For…”

He sighed. “A reminder to Careen of our relationship. But also…” he trailed off for a second to trace a circle into Pallia’s hand. His face pointed toward the floor as he spoke, but she could still see those damned fins vibrate, “in the off chance something happens and we must part, I wanted you to have something tangible to remember me by, since you have given me much in that regard, and I...ah, not so much.”

She flushed, pulse racing. It’s just Dontoc, she told herself. Your friend with a pretty voice and face and is doing a really good job making me feel bashful for no good reason, but a friend. After all, why would you only feel flushed after 4 sweeps? Who does that?

“I’m not sure 12th Perigee gifts count for that.”

“I feel they do.” He looked back up at her, sheepish smile sending butterflies to her stomach for reasons that it absolutely shouldn’t have. “And well, and even then this is hardly much of anything. However,

Okay. Maybe she did have a flush crush.

That’s not good.

She looked at the table. A free finger traced the handkerchief. The increased tangling of their fingers was a secondary, but not unwelcome, effect. She sighed softly, but for due to the former or latter reason she wasn’t sure. “No, this is perfect.” She grinned, hoping it hid the growing awkwardness she felt. “Thanks.”

He laughed quietly. “I’m glad. You deserve something you love.”

They stood there in the quiet evening of the diner for a moment before Pallia finally separated to step away from the table. “If we don’t leave soon, it’ll be daylight.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He grabbed his phone and followed suit, standing next to her with a worried frown. “Erm, Pallia...do you mind if I fix something?”

She blinked owlishly at him. “Uh...sure.”

He snickered and pushed up her glasses. “It was starting to bother me.”

Pallia blinked harshly, letting out a small squeak when his hand came up. With everything else, she completely forgot they fell. “Oh, yeah. Guess they did. Thanks.”

His fins twitched in a perfect compliment to his tinted cheeks. “I-I mean, you look fine either way. I just ah, thought you might like to see better.”

“I would, yeah.” She giggled and leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around her upper back, just past her shoulders. “Makes getting home easier.”

His hand gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I would hope,” he said pleasantly. “But come on, let’s go home.”

She leaned her head on his arm. Careen might have been right (for once). She did actually have a crush on Dontoc, and there was nothing either party could do much about. But that’s okay. She’d just take a break from him. Let the feelings simmer down. Maybe even dissipate.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. But she’d solve that later on.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

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#fantroll #fantrolls #homestuck #hiveswap #fanfiction #it starts pretty negative but after that it's dorks flirting #dontoc #pallia #some careen #best paired with Modern English's Melt with You #or Postal Service's Such Great Heights #my writing

[chuckling-chemist]

“Anonymous”

((A piece I’ve had pretty back burner for a while. Tbh I’m absurdly proud of “Preypal” for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Not to mention it’s nice to write from Pallia’s POV, which boy have I not done in a while. Also, I’m just going to make the note right here, since the Empress isn’t Condy, that’s why Tab soda pop isn’t all the rage. La Croix fits Carica’s aesthetic more than Tab while keeping the lack of caloric intake and tastes about as awful imo)) 

The first time it happened, Pallia assumed it was an accident. She sat, staring at the absolutely ridiculous amount of money sitting her Preypal account under anonymous, with absolutely no comment to even begin to let her guess who in God’s name thought a --she didn’t even really want to count and find out -- figure number was something she, a tealblood needed. Which granted, she never exactly did get to perform any sort of Seventh Sweep Ordeal. Not to say money was impossible to come by, but her primary income wasn't from her research.

Not to mention was all the money she did have to funnel in. Ignoring things she did admittenly purchase as gifts or to make her own life more pleasant, she paid everyone who worked under her - all except Aisral, who’s payment equaled out to free room, board and supplies. There were general expenses to keep the place up and running, all the medical and scientific equipment, money for clothing or travel, and all the required vanity items the Empress sold that midbloods and lower were required to purchase (and boy was La Croix disgusting). And those that knew about all those expenses were few and far between. If they didn’t flat just live with her, they had to be frequent enough guests that they may as well live here, if not for whatever outlying circumstances.

Vodnik periodically sent her money, sure, but Vodnik’s style of “charitable donation” was not only a lesser monetary value, but it was big bills shoved between the latest medical tools shuttled off in oversized, anonymous boxes. Vodnik was a sea pirate functioning wholly through fenced goods, so large online transfers were never something to expect with him. She wasn't even sure he had a Preypal anyway, assuming he knew it existed.

It could be Mayola. It was unlikely, as Pallia doubted Mayola held the forethought to hide any sort of quirk, but Mayola was a seadweller. The elite of society. Assuming she wasn't dumping it on one of the countless others she did, she could have the money.

Her door cracked open, breaking her concentration. She whipped around in her chair, catching the her violetblooded hivemate, Dontoc, dressed in his usual neatly pressed suit.

“Pallia?” he said, softly enough to her she could barely hear. “I just wanted to let you know I will be out tonight with Careen.”

She cocked her head. She hadn't considered Dontoc. Frankly, it seemed so much like the obvious choice that her initial instinct said no. That it had to be someone else hoping she’d assume Dontoc. But he certainly knew about her situation, and there's no way he wouldn't have the money to compensate her. It was more a matter of if. And she could at least see Dontoc, if he were trying to hide it was him, hoping she would assume that it couldn’t be him because he was the obvious choice, and so she’d guess someone else. “Um... okay,” she said. “Sounds good. Just one question, if you can real fast.”

She casually waved him over, and he seemed silently stride over until he stood behind her chair, resting his arms on the top. “What do you need?” he asked.

She pointed at the money transfer as she glanced over at him. “I just found this. You have any ideas?”

Dontoc’s fins fluttered as he shook his head with a little too much vigor to be wholly innocent. “Oh no! Only troll I could think is Mayola. Certainly she’s a likely suspect?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “I dunno. Maybe.” Pallia paused and leaned back in her chair. Her head briefly touched what must've been Dontoc's arm before it quickly retracted back to his side. “I'll ask her next time she comes over I guess.”

“I think that’ll work wonderfully in your favor,” he said hurriedly. “Though I do have to wonder if it could be anyone else. Doesn’t Vodnik….? Or Glacin! Surely one of them.”

“Glacin refuses to use it because it leaves a paper trail. I’m pretty sure he’d just send me solid gold if he could. And Vodnik...well... I don’t actually think Vodnik knows this exists,” Pallia said. She looked up to find him straight faced with his fins drooping slightly. “Are you okay? Need water?”

“No no...I’m - I am - fine. Aside from some common anxieties about how the night is going to go.” He started to run his hand through his hair but stopped midway, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

“Your fins are doing the drooping thing,” she said.

“Oh!” He grinned sheepishly, and she watched his fins hurriedly fan his darkening face. “Well...ah….perhaps I do need to have a quick glass of water before I leave. It couldn’t hurt. Will you ah...will you be busy later on? We could continue this discussion afterwards maybe.”

“Actually I’m going to be running some tests once Mayola gets here on her muscle strength and lung support and comparing it to perigees prior. And hopefully, if all goes well, I want to test hormonal levels upon exposure to aspects of other fuschiabloods and see what, on a chemical level, it affects. If at all.” She sighed. “If it goes well I’ll be free, but who the hell knows with Mayola.”

He nodded. “Ah...right. I’ll ah...see you then. If you’re free. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah of course it’s--”

And he was out in a flash. Pallia shook her head and sighed, pushing his odd behavior out of her head for now. She could reapproach it after dealing with Mayola...however long it would end up taking for Mayola to arrive at her hive, let alone be ready to perform routine tests instead of flirting with Aisral.

She dinked around her husktop for a few minutes, eventually pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Mayola. Mayola was quick to answer (it made Pallia debate if she had even left yet, but such was a conversation for much later), reminding Pallia the one time she tried using Preypal to pay Aisral it somehow ended up with Preypal trying to have her pay less money due to her caste, followed by a sum of money going Careen’s direction and a rather furious Mayola yelling at a surly Preypal representative on the phone threatening to get drones involved if need be, yet still the whole event got dragged out for a solid twenty minutes.

She also suggested Dontoc, since obviously who else could it be? Aside from, in her words “the ungodly pink tumor on our lives playing some trick and is gonna pull the money out here soon”, of course.

When she arrived at the hive for testing - phone in hand - she was very eager to continue the train of thought. Especially when Pallia let slip how quickly he became uncomfortable during the whole conversation. Speculation to motive ranged around from, in Mayola’s mind at least, seadweller guilt (the most likely reason, which Pallia could agree with), to some bizarre prank set up by Careen (the least likely reason, since he took a neutral route in regards to the two’s antagonism). Pallia halfheartedly attempted to move her off the topic, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the wild speculation (lowering Pallia’s guard around him to commit violent murder? Secret pale crush? Secret flush crush? Secret pitch crush? Doppleganger?), even if it slowed down the testing. The two ended up running far later than expected, and by the time everything was done, all she wanted to do was curl up under the blankets of her mattress pad, thoughts of actually bringing the topic up to to Dontoc again long forgotten.

It managed to completely leave her thoughts until the next perigee, when sure enough, only a day or two later Pallia lamented about having to purchase the Empress’ La Croix on top of overly-expensive, gaudy jewelry sold by Careen, her Preypal sent her a notification of an anonymous donation that more than covered for the whole amount and then some.

“Well,” she muttered softly, “really only one troll it could be at this point.”

She swiveled out of her chair and walked on down to Dontoc’s room, giving three sharp raps on his door and waiting a good minute before opening the door. Nothing new: it was a system they mutually agreed upon when he was still adjusting to life without sopor-induced sleep and forgetting to eat. She ended up coming in so much that knocking quickly became less a way of asking if you were invited and more a quick alert you were coming in. It worked both directions too. If the two stayed up too late the day prior, he’s used the setup to bring her coffee or announce a temporary departure.

In fact, he barely even noticed her opening the door to the glorified library of a room. Dontoc sat at his desk, focused wholly on whatever he drew in his notebook. He didn’t even seem to notice she walked in. She knocked on the open door again, louder this time. Still nothing.

“Hey Dontoc?” she asked.

Dontoc hurriedly shut the notebook and shoved it aside, head jerking away to meet hers. Pallia covered her mouth to hide her laugh, but a few loose chuckles escaped anyway. “Pallia! You….you didn't--”

“I knocked twice. You didn't hear.” She shrugged. “Can I come in?”

He nodded vigorously, beckoning her inside. She stepped through the doorframe, gently shutting the door behind her. “Of course! Please, go ahead and sit down.” he said. “Do you need something? Or rather, if you do not mind, I could use this opportunity to take care of my own business.”

"No. Well, no. That's wrong. I sort of do.” She sat on the edge of his mattress pad, kicking her feet underneath her.  “Do you remember that anonymous person who sent me money?”

She watched as his somewhat normal tired expression widen in panic, and he ran his hand through his hair in a blatant attempt to calm himself down. “Ah...vaguely. Preypal, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah.” She took a slow breath as she pieced together the best way to put this. Dontoc denied it last time, so he probably would again. “Well, it happened again. After I talked about losing a lot of money.”

He nodded slowly. “Interesting,” he said.

“And…” she paused. “I really think it's you.”

Any composure he had dropped in that instant. He blinked harshly, the quirked eyebrow and head shake contrasting his twitching, embarrassed fins. If anything, it made the feigned disbelief look like guilt. She had to give him credit, he was certainly more prepared for the accusation the second time around.

“No idea what you...you are talking about,” he said, voice straining to find vocalizations better than a squeak.

“You know? The Preypal thing? And the sender being you?”

His gaze dropped down to his fiddling fingers. “Oh.” He swallowed heavily. “And ah...you think it’s me.”

“Well, it all adds up.” She shifted herself so she leaned forward on the sleeping pad, letting her feet touch the floor. “Most of it. Mayola -- and you don’t know this one -- she doesn’t really use online payment systems after the last mistake. Vodnik and Glacin are out. I can’t see why the hell Careen would give me money, I’ll be fair. And Volcor might be cobalt, but he’s not sitting high enough for it to be worth the ridiculous amount it is. Not to mention getting an exact payment for a bunch of stuff I didn’t want to buy in the first place plus no more exactly than half of the amount of last time? That’s...that’s almost too perfect. I’m just trying to parse out why you’d go anonymous.”

“Assuming it’s me,” he said flatly.

Pallia paused to stare blankly before slowly saying, “Assuming it’s you, yes.” She shook her head. “But I honestly couldn’t think who else it would be. I wrapped my head around it so many times when Mayola was here we were starting to spin in theoretical circles.”

It wasn’t wholly the truth -- Mayola was dead set that it couldn’t be anyone else but Dontoc -- but Pallia truly couldn’t think of who else it could be. She only knew four trolls who had that kind of money. All seadwellers: two who hated her, one who hated Preypal, and Dontoc. It made the process of elimination simple.

She sighed. “You don’t have to tell me it’s you. If it is, you made it anonymous for a reason. Unless you know who it is and it’s not you. Just at least so if it is Careen or Po…anyone where the money might get immediately pulled away the minute I try to spend it I know to keep it untouched.”

He finally looked back up at her, embarrassment replaced with concern. “You...you haven’t spent it?”

“It’s been sitting in my account for at least a solid perigee so...no. I haven’t. Didn’t want something to happen to it because it’s too much for a tealblood, or the person who sent it decided they wanted it back.” She chuckled awkwardly. “But if you can assure me that whoever sent it won’t do that…”

“I get the distinct feeling the troll who sent that was unaware of such an, ah, possibility,” he said.  “I think I shall inform them of such.”

She grinned. That at least, was a load off her back. “That’s a relief. Also tell them I said thanks. The whole thing’s putting so much pressure off me that I can use to focus literally anywhere else.”

He smiled back, probably in an attempt to be warm, but with his still-fluttering fins and violent-tinted face he looked sheepish. “Of course I can. Goodness knows it’ll make them feel useful.”

“Well, they don’t have to feel useful per se, but if it makes them feel better I won’t stop them.” Pallia chuckled and hopped off the sleeping bad. “Anyway, I think I’ve held you up long enough. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair.”

“Pallia, you are hardly holding me up. Besides, I did have my own business too.” He scooted out of his chair and stood up, reaching out for a small vase on the top of his desk sitting underneath a lamp. Flowers bloomed from the top, a messy assortment of teals and whites with a couple purples poking through.  “I ah...I do believe this is self-explanatory? This is for you. A small token of gratitude for everything you have done. I did my research and these should all be medinical, but of course they are also just pleasant to observe.”

Pallia felt her face flush. It only got worse as he stood up and actually walked over to her, holding it out. She took the arrangement from him with shaky hands, exhaling an oh so softly she didn’t even hear herself say it. “You didn’t need to do this, you know,” she said.

He shrugged. “Yes, but it has been a sweep or so since I arrived, and you love commemoration so I thought you might like it,” he said. “So yes anyway...erm, here you go.”

“Right. I’m…” she tried to swallow, but her mouth suddenly felt dry. It was an unpleasant duo to her racing heartbeat. “I’m gonna go put thissss in my room.”

She scurried out before Dontoc could get a word in edgewise, not stopping until she could get to her room to put the flowers on an empty shelf above her own sleeping pad.

“If that was intentional,” she muttered to herself as she calmed, “that was absurdly well played.”

The next perigee, right on what she figured was going to be a new schedule, it happened again. The same amount as the first perigee, still under the anonymous tag, everything. She shook her head and sighed as minimized the tab on her husktop to walk down to the kitchen, just to get a cup of coffee.

Well, get a cup of coffee and affirm one small thing.

She stopped at Dontoc’s door, not even bothering to knock this time as she peeked her head in. He was on his own husktop this time, quickly closing out of a tab before looking up at her. “Yes, dear? Need something?”

“Just wanted to ask if you knew who anonymous was,” she said cheekily.

There was a brief moment of panic that crossed his face before he rolled his eyes and smirked. “Have not the faintest idea,” he said dryly.

She returned the smirk wholeheartedly as she closed the door, barely able to withhold her laughter until it clicked shut. He’d never have to flat out tell her. She knew. He knew that she knew. And three perigees in, she didn’t think she wanted it any other way.

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#fantroll #fantrolls #homestuck #hiveswap #fanfiction #my writing #this has been bouncing in my head for a while #good to finally get it out #pallia #dontoc

[chuckling-chemist]

A Request To Ask

((I swear I have like 3 other half-finished pieces but I became obsessed with Thomas Dolby and couldn’t stop))

“Okay, according to our recordings from the NMR spectra here, we’re likely looking at...hey Dontoc can you hand me the molecular weights chart?”

She heard a chuckle from the body next to her. “You do not have these memorized by now?”

Pallia snorted. “Do you?”

“Of course not. I am not the one who does this regularly. Rather, I have been merely helping you with your ah...my apologies but what did you say we were doing?” He let out another laugh, more sheepish than before. “I understand we are identifying proteins and bashing together electrons, however it has been so long since we started, it is slipping from my memory.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning up to face him. Since he still didn’t quite have a lab coat of his own, he instead swam in Glacin’s spare one. The sleeves were folded up several times over, and even then it was hard to see where his hands actually began. At least the goggles fit, even if she had to help finangle them around his fins so nothing pinched. “I’ve been trying to identify various genomic properties in those of the tyrian pink caste so I can compare them to other castes known for violent tendencies and see if I can find some sort of biological component to their competition towards each other. But so far all I’ve gotten is...nothing.”

Dontoc craned his neck to get a better look at the papers laid out. “That does not look like nothing.”

She shook her head, pencil tapping against the table sharply. “Well this much wouldn’t indicate anything. I still need to do all the math to determine which amino acids are in this specific protein and all the other ones we did tonight still sitting there.”

“And what about those we already ran?”

“Well…” she inhaled sharply, “we’ve done wonderfully making long, complex amino acid chains. But as far as any possible chains that I know function to inspire higher competition responses than cooperation in comparison to other trolls?” She groaned. “Nothing. And I’m easily halfway through at this point with the math alone.”

Dontoc hummed in understanding. He shifted closer to her with the chart, not enough so they were touching, but nevertheless still  enough she could feel the colder seadweller body temperature chill her own skin. “I hardly think there is any harm in dropping a false lead, so to speak,” he said.

“I’ve gotten so far though!” She groaned. “And who knows, I could still use this information. Do you realize how little information we have have on fuschias? Really seadwellers in general, but it’s especially hard to get information on an exclusive caste with all of maybe five trolls at a time in it.”

“Fair, fair. Perhaps another night then? Place a raincheck on this endeavor.” Dontoc raised an eyebrow, glancing at her curiously. “We can parse this out in the future after a well-deserved break.”

“We?” Pallia met his gaze, a sly smile on her face. “You are aware all I’ll be doing for who knows how long is math right?”

“You are the one who has called me pleasant company, dear.” He tapped the image of the spectra. “Also, if you could perhaps show me during our next set of NMR experimentation how to calculate this, I could always assist. Mathematics is a strong suit of mine.”

“You’re pleasant, distracting company,” she retorted. At the sight of his fins shrinking, she hurriedly added, “That’sss not a problem! Just a statement. And a distraction might be good, anyway.”

“No-no...you’re ah...you are fine.” He head and fins shook, almost as if to erase the surprise from his face. He didn’t speak until his composure had mostly returned. “I have never been called a distraction before.”

“And now you have. You’ve moved on up in Alternia.” She grinned and slid the printouts closer to him so he could look at them if he wanted.. “Who knows, maybe we’ll actually get something done. Figure something out about fuchsias that might contradict what we think we know. If we’re really lucky, it’ll explain something and it’ll make dealing with them all the easier.”

 “‘Dealing?” he asked in amusement. “Seems like a harsh term.”

“You aren’t the one stitching up Mayola’s FLARP members. And now that I think about it, you are never here for when Mayola and Aisral start to go at it like hopbeasts. You always seem to manage to escape over to Careen’s for the worst of it. Speaking of, honestly…oh.” She dug her fangs into her lip, using it to ignore the heat rushing to her face. A laugh eventually escaped out of her throat in a pitiful attempt to ease the growing awkwardness in her mind. “Wait. Right. You guys are matesprits. Very different dynamic than what we have. Ignore me.”

Dontoc shrugged, giving her a half-hearted wave. “Pallia, please do not worry about it. With how little you see of the two of us together, and how little I talk about it, I would say it is an honest mistake.”

“I still feel bad because like...you have talked about her and I have seen you two together. Especially since every time I see you both together, it’s uh...a lot to take in. No offense.” She scrunched up her face. “Actually I might have forgotten because I try to erase those scenes from memory.” Truthfully, Pallia constantly forgot the two were matesprits because they were such an odd couple. Sure, they weren’t an odd couple in the traditional Alternian sense - the type you could see on in romantic comedies and sitcoms where a dopey, shabby lowblood ends up with a pristine, hyper-intelligent landdwelling highblood - but once you knew even an inkling of their personalities it started to show. Careen was, in every sense of the word, condescending, arrogant and stuck-up. And Dontoc...wasn’t. Or if he was, he at least had the good sense to not act that way around Pallia. 

Then again, maybe it didn’t. Pallia had a massively negative experience with Careen, and certainly Aisral couldn’t stand her, but who knows. She might be nicer to true blues and purples. Plenty of trolls behaved like that, and with Careen at the top, it’s not like such was an impossibility. And that’s ignoring how Alternia certainly held extra a unique disdain when midbloods acted out, where highbloods could do whatever they wanted without repercussions and the right troll might find the lowblood feisty if they were lucky.

Yeah, that was probably it.

“I assure you, that is more her than myself. It really was quite the adjustment when we entered a matespritship,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I still am not sure I am used to it myself, to be honest.”

“It’s been a solid sweep at this point.” She pursed her lips in thought, grabbing the NMR printouts and the molecular weight chart to shove into a folder. Lab work seemed to wrap up for the day. Considering she couldn’t remember fully when they started, it was probably for the best. “I think.”

“It is going to be a sweep, yes. She will holding a whole party about it.” He took a slow, long breath. His fins shook, not violently, just seemed to vibrate for some reason.  “Which I suppose brings me to a question I have wished to ask for a while.”

“Whaddya need?” A weight managed to settle somewhere in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. Dontoc asking her something he meant to ask for “a while” could be literally anything. That’s partly how he ended up knocking on Pallia’s door in the middle of the day asking about where he could get more clothes.

“I was ah...well...hoping you could possibly go?” She stopped putting papers away to look up at him with a wide, puzzled expression. He swallowed thickly. “Not-not with me, of course, we cannot exactly go as a duo, but truthfully she has held a few parties since we have began our relationship and for much of it I just feel uncomfortable. Careen’s off having to be a hostess, which I understand completely, however I would greatly appreciate some familiar company that aren’t her friends for once.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a complete mess, so much so that Pallia was surprised he didn’t trip on them the way it completely tripped up her thoughts.

She blinked owlishly, throat dry despite everything. Of all the questions she expected, a request to meet him at a glorified highblooded gala was not it. 

“I...um...well…” She felt her breath catch in her throat. Such a simple question should not make her feel this unsure. By all logic, the answer should be a hard no. She didn’t want to see Careen, didn’t want to think about her if she didn’t want to and moreover, if she had to, didn’t want to possibly experience another blow-up like the last one she had when the two were together. She had no drive to interact with her more than necessary unless it somehow involved shoving an acid gun into her face and pulling the trigger.

But it wouldn’t be to see Careen or to try and upset her. It was to give Dontoc a face he recognized and could talk to consistently. She’d have to check with Aisral, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Aisral wouldn’t mind making her a cute dress for it. And if Careen stole him away, she could just retreat into those ridiculous gardens. Back when the two were in contact with each other, she never got the chance to investigate the suspiciously waxy coating on the red roses, and a part of Pallia still wanted to confirm that Careen was, in fact, using her servants to paint her roses.

She didn’t realize just how long she stood there in silence, until Dontoc cleared his throat. She looked up to him, his own gaze averted in a poor attempt to hide the growing violet that overtook his face. “If you don’t wish to I understand completely. You two have a history and I’m not trying to repair that. I just thought perhaps some company would be beneficial? I realize how selfish that sounds.”

“No, you uh...caught me off guard. Funny how that one happenssss.” She took a slow, steadying breath calm herself and pushed her glasses up. “I’m hardly upset or anything you asked. Just really surprised.”

“True as that may be, I should not have put you off guard.” He looked over at her. Most of the blush had faded, but the slight tint alongside the fin twitch was still unmistakable.

Pallia shrugged. It was hard to get mad at him for something she accidentally did herself not long ago. “Weren’t you the one telling me not to worry earlier?”

“I suppose I might have, or well, I did said something to that effect, yes, however…such was...” he said slowly, voice trailing off the longer he went. Eventually he stopped, shaking his head. “No, no, the more I think about it, it is not that different.”

She slid closer to him, just close enough they could be touching if either one moved even a little bit closer. “Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve invited me out somewhere.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. “If I remember correctly, it was you who dragged me to dinner last week?”

“We had not eaten for hours and I swear, you never keep food in this whole hive unless someone is ill,” he pointed out.

“Okay, fair. Fair.” She turned around and crossed her arms, using the table to lean comfortably. Dontoc followed suit, though his arms merely fell at his sides. “But weren’t you also the one who set up the next date where we work? Together? Not even thirty minutes ago?”

Silence. “So I did.” His fins twitched, betraying his increasingly calm composure. “As such, I concede you might have a point.”

She chuckled.  “Only might? I think that was a pretty excellent point.”

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Well, yes. Generally one would say requesting we get food together for the purposes of survival, or finishing research two started together, is different than the request of meeting up at what boils down to an over extravagant anniversary party.”

“They’re both satisfying a need, aren’t they?” she asked nonchalantly. “Socialization’s kind of important, you know.”

“Well, I would imagine if it is only of slight importance, you would not bring it up,” he said cheekily.

Well someone’s certainly not nervous anymore. She put a hand over her mouth, attempting to hide her snickers, but it only succeeded in making it harder to hold back. “You assssss.”

“An ass who you are apparently actually considering assisting,” he said. “I believe that says more about you this time than myself.”

She shrugged. “I’d say I owe you one for all the times you’ve helped out with the experiments. Volcor missing a frond isn’t exactly the most effective at helping out sometimes. Just, you know, lemme talk to Aisral first. Get something set up. Or see if I should just go buy a new outfit.”

His cheerful expression dropped. “Pallia, you do not owe me anything for willingly --”

“Dontoc, if I tell myself it’s because I owe you, I’ll be more to actually go and not try to flake out last minute,” she said.

His face brightened right back up, fins perking and everything. “Of course, of course. Thank you, truly.”

“No need to thank me. We do stuff together. We’re friends. Speaking of…” She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, glancing up at him slyly. “Dinner?”

“I was starting to think you would never ask.”

#fantroll #fantrolls #homestuck #hiveswap #my writing #dontoc #pallia #might go through some more edits later

[chuckling-chemist]

Fancestor Week: Serendipity Prompt

((Inspired by this prompt to make this, which is funny seeing as the only ancestor I’m posting is Aluala, and yet here I am doing this for Dontoc’s ancestors. Ah well. Literally just wrote it and posted it since it’s a prompt thing, so I went with whims as opposed to anything else. So yeah. Enjoy!))

Nieche Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. In his rampant imagination, he admitted that being taken prisoner by ravaging pirates seemed more exciting after the fact than it was. He got to watch scores of lowbloods - and a purpleblood? Did he see a purpleblood or was that his imagination? - overtake the military vessel he happened to have passage on. Writers learn best with experience after all, and there was no better way to write the adventure novel questioning everything commonly accepted about the military without knowing exactly how the military functioned. He hadn’t forgotten piracy was seriously starting to pop-up in the waters seadwellers didn’t keep in a tight stranglehold, but he wrote it off. They were just barbarian midbloods trying to act like royalty. Nothing less, nothing more.

Then The Empress’ Majesty became overwhelmed by the singular ship to fear. The Seadweller’s Curse. The one ship even Nieche, glorified violetblooded hermit that he was, recognized and feared. Everyone knew about the terrifying Lady-O-War, even if they never saw her by face. One by one, as a yellowblood and purpleblood offered quarter to the soldiers, they lashed out. One by one, the yellowblood and purpleblood killed them. But he didn’t. He accepted becoming their prisoner, offered his arms freely to become bound, let the pirates gleefully strip him of his weapons and now sat in a miniscule empty room with wet wooden walls. Alone.

The door opened. Nieche’s gaze flitted over, watching as a tall brownblood in a long, decorated coat striped in reds and purples and fitted swashbuckler hat covered in dyed brown feathers sauntered in. She shut the door behind her, leaning on it with a cocky grin.

He didn’t know much about pirates, but there weren’t many others aside from the captain who dressed like that.

Nieche cocked his head in curiosity. “Wasn’t expecting the Lady-o-War to be a gutterblood,” he remarked. “I heard she was...what was it? Olive? Teal?”

The brownblood seemed unfazed. She shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help it you’re slow to the uptake. Nor can I help that somehow a violetblood like yourself apparently is worthless for ransom.”

Nieche gasped. “Inconceivable!”

Not that he really thought it was inconceivable. Well-established writer or not, he wasn’t much for promotion. He hadn’t even so much as shown his face in the past thirty sweeps since his first book. Nor did he write with his real name or symbol. He wished establish credibility without his status, not because of it.

“Please save the fake drama for later. I don’t have time for it. Because now, I have the singular royal fish on my ship who’s useless to me. So I’ve got a conundrum here. Cull you, or find a purpose for you. Which I’ll be fair, someone else with classic booksmarts and a pretty way of talking works well for a ship filled with escaped slaves.” She crossed her arms. “So what’s it gonna be, fish boy? Choice is yours. Death... or piracy?”

***

Inaeis Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. There wasn’t much else he could do, not really. Not anymore. Where once a glorious research facility stood, now only broken glass and bent metal existed in its wake. Ashes, all of them from books he once burned collected like grains of sand on the beach around the counters and medical equipment. He could still hear the screams as trolls got murdered. Still could see the vicious look on Fospha’s face as she was held down and violetnly culled. Could still smell the blood spilled and the distinct scent of charred paper that he never could wash out of his clothing. Once upon a time, this was his fault. But that was a hundred sweeps ago.

And in all those sweeps, nothing changed.

Aluala smacked him on the head, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Hey! Alternia to chumbucket, you dragged me to your fuckup so you wouldn’t be alone in this place. You don’t get to go all 1000 yard stare and force me to do all the heavy lifting.”

Inaeis blinked harshly, her mental voice reverberating loudly in her head. He’d never truly get used to such a mental power. “Excuse me, this was your idea after I briefly mentioned I had a fling with an actual scientist.”

“You call your fifteen sweep kismesis with a tealblood you murdered a fling? Fucking hell, what’s that make me, a casual hatetoy who you only pail because it pisses off your matesprit?”

“I don’t have to answer that question,” he sneered.

“You do if you want any help finding these books.” She scowled, letting out a guttural groan. “And how do I know you’re not just fucking with us? How do I know these books even exist?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know! I don’t know if they really do. But whenever I started my...relations...with Carica, Fospha got insistent I was making a mistake,” he said. Inaeis shoved a hand in his suit pocket, pulling out a crinkled note written in impecable teal handwriting. Aluala snatched it out of his hand, hurriedly scanning over the thing with an increasingly large smirk on her face.

“Oh she is absolutely delightful. Shame I couldn’t meet her. Did she wink when you culled her? Please tell me she did.”

“You are finding far too much joy in this,” Inaeis said grimly. “So are you going to help or not?”

Aluala shrugged, dropping the note on the floor as she made her way out of the lab room. “I’ll think about it. Feel like I’m honoring her legacy more leaving them here instead of finding them.” She turned around swiftly on her heel, dress twirling as if its own beast, and gives a small princess-like wave. “Good luck Inaeis! I feel like you’ll need it!”

***

Dontoc Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. He seemed uncaring about the troll sitting against his back, head lolled onto his shoulder and antler-like horns right in next to his face. Her wrists were bound - he had done it himself, however loosely - and he could only describe her slight shaking and unsteady breath as distress, but hadn’t told him to stop yet. He trusted Valeba. He trusted she might also end up pushing herself too far, but they had been moirails for a few sweeps now. If she threw herself into a panic attack, he knew how to deal with it.

Still, checking up wasn’t a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “I’m okay. How long has it been?” she said breathlessly.

“At least four minutes.” He frowned. “Are you sure you are okay? You sound stressed.”

“Oh I’m most definitely stressed,” she said. Her voice sounded strained, more so than before. “This is still freaking me out pretty badly. But at least four minutes without throwing myself into a PTSD-fueled panic attack is a huge improvement from last time.”

He sighed. “Valeba…”

He knew her well enough to know she threw him a grin that was partly to convince himself and mostly to convince herself, though the extended pause in her speak told him otherwise. “I got this.” She swallowed thickly. “I...I…”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he broke away from Valeba, using the knife she gave him earlier to cut away at the ropes. She turned around herself, throwing him in a tight embrace. He could feel his the shirt of his suit go damp from her tears and could feel her body shake, but no tears came out. He let a hand go up into her hair, petting it as gently as he could.

“It is okay,” he said softly. “You are just with me, alive and well. No one else. And it was not a seadweller who did those things to you.”

He felt her nod. “I know.”

“And you said it yourself, you improved.”

She sighed as she looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Not well enough.”

He shook his head, moving the hand from her hair straight to her cheek. She shuddered again, violently, before her whole body calmed. “Valeba, you are doing fine. Some would never try to work past this.”

“Still…”

“You are being too hard on yourself. Think of it this way. Last time, we only made it a minute or so, and I did not catch you until you started to return to your trauma. We are both improving.”

“Mm. That’s fair. Thanks for that.”

“Valeba, you are my moirail. And certainly, you have pulled me out of more panic attacks than I can think. Doing something like this is only the natural course of events.” His fins twitched and he stroked her cheek. If it were someone else, someone who didn’t have a fear of being restrained, he might initiate the hug. But not now. Not with her. “But I suppose, if you are looking for it, a ‘your welcome’ works just as well.”

#fantroll #fantrolls #fancestor week #fancestors #prompt: serendipity #long post #my writing #inaeis #nieche #dontoc #stikla #aluala #valeba

[chuckling-chemist]

Happy Freedom Festival, Main Edition (2/2)

((<==back))

((Well this got......a bit long for myself. So yeah. Anyway, here’s the second half, that took longer to finish than I expected because Life Ensues. Also now it’s obvious I just really fucking wanted to make up an Independence Day festival because fuck you that’s why))

It took them longer than he’d ever like to admit to get ready. First off was the matter of Dontoc having to dig through his clothing to find something he deemed appropriate, and finding that pretty much none of his clothing would look appropriately “lowblood-esque”. In theory, he could certainly go with just a dress shirt, vest and slacks, but he felt naked outside without it, sweltering heat be damned. And with all his suits being tailor-made by Aisral, each one was temperature controlled so the only issue he would have to worry about is aesthetic.

The minute Pallia was ready, she even tried to expedite matters. Dontoc allowed her in his room immediately - already switched into appropriate pants, and any theoretical assistance to his dilemma outweighed any other possible consequences. She sat on his sleeping pad, giving constant reassurances that it would be fine and anyone who might generally say something will probably keep it minimal due to his caste. Highbloods were one thing. Seadwellers were another entirely.

Eventually, he ended up forgoing the vest and switching out the bowtie for a regular tie. He didn’t look much dressed down, but to him, he at least dropped down a few castes if it weren’t for the distinct southern-coastal, impossible to hide in any fashion, fins. Or the violet eyes. Certainly the violet accents on his jacket didn’t help matters either. But the attempt was made (however poorly it was in his increasingly aware mind), and the attempt took at least a solid five minutes of nothing but digging through a closet of neatly pressed suits, so he wasn’t going to get any more content than he currently was.

The coffee they ended up leaving in the kitchen. “Mayola drank it,” Pallia said.

“Are you sure? She did seem rather disinterested once you said it was only for us,” he said. He paused, then shook his head. “Then again...I suppose the inability to predict Mayola does make this a challenge to counter-argue.”

Pallia smirked. “Oh no, Mayola’s incredibly easy to predict. You’re just not used to her. And I can tell you she drank that coffee.” She hopped off his sleeping pad, her sandals making loud clacks on the tile floor. “Ready?”

He looked down at himself, fully dressed with a black suit and tie, then over at herself, in a thin-strapped white summer dress, hair still down around her shoulders. “Well, I still feel overdressed,” he admitted, “however I do not think we can rectify the situation more than we have.”

Pallia beamed. “Let’sssss go then!!”

In another timeline, she probably would have grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their hive. Instead, she rushed out his room and down the stairs, leaving him to hurriedly follow shortly behind. She didn’t slow down until she was outside, at which point she waited just outside the double glass doors of her hive, bouncing on her feet.

“Excited?” he asked dryly as she locked the doors behind him.

“Oh no, I’m just like this all the time,” she said. The two started on down the empty paved road out towards Sandyhorn, the only one from her position that actually led out of to the city. Were there passerby, they might have made a bit of an odd pairing - a tall, yet twig-like seadweller dressed to the nine and a tealblood a solid foot smaller than him in weather-appropriate clothing - but there were few hives down this road, and fewer trolls who ventured down the road.

(Really, if he had to think about it, the only ones he knew regularly traveled down here were the residents of the hive, Mayola, Volcor, Zanchi and Vodnik. Glacin and Valeba didn’t live close by, and Careen seemed to dislike the few times she came down to pick him up, going out of her way to complain each time. Dontoc had just gotten to the point he agreed to meet her somewhere else.)

Dontoc laughed. “You know, if I did not know you any better, that would have been a believable statement.”

“And the fact you know it’s not a believable statement means you’ve spent way too much time around me,” she said.

“Is that not what happens when you live with someone?”

“Point taken.”

He smiled. “I would not worry too much about such a thing.” He paused right as a warm breeze hit him square in the face. It was hot. Even with the automatic cooling system Aisral built inside his suit, the heat hung in the air like a weighted blanket - not moving, just omnipresent. “Instead we should be worrying about this heat. Are you sure you will be okay in it? I know the highblood immediate on-call transit system is still in Sandyhorn. You may not be a highblood, but I can call them.”

Pallia’s eyes went wide for a brief second before retreating, replaced instead with her vigorously shaking her head. “Are you hot?” she asked worriedly.

“Ah...no...but…”

“Then we’ll be fine. Sssorry, but I don’t even think thosse run tonight. You don’t have to worry about me. Done this walk hundreds of times in worse heat.” She gave him a soft, playful nudge. “Unless you’re worried about getting another sunburn?”

Dontoc let out an undignified snort. “Hardly. I just…” he sighed. “You are hardly wrong. I worry about you. Not because you are a tealblood, or a landdweller, or anything else. I just do.”

“Anxiety?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“Well.” She stopped briefly, putting her hand on his arm. “I’ve got like three other trolls doing that. You’ve got enough on your plate. So if that helps…”

“It does,” he said. It was true, somewhat. His general anxiety certainly did play a constant part in his worry of everyone around him- not just her specifically - and her explicitly giving a valid reason as to why he can stay calm quieted said anxiety. Anything outside of that was completely outside of her realm of help, but there was no need to bring that up.

“Good,” she said. With an awkward chuckle, she added, “I didn’t actually think it would.”

They walked for a while longer, all the way downtown, nearby the park. A long walk, certainly, but not a bad one by any means. In part helped by the company, that much he was certain, but nevertheless anything to make the walk better was welcome.

They didn’t even need to get downtown to begin seeing the festivities. The minute the paved road turned to the broken-down cobblestone of Sandyhorn’s exterior streets, he was greeted by streamers in reds, yellows and greens coupled with the faintest hint of unfamiliar loud music playing in the distance. Strings of lights wound around the pre-existing street lamps, lighting up the roads in all the lower colors of the hemospectrum. The official artwork and murals of Careen or the current Empress, Her Imperious Beguiler, remained relatively untouched. However, next to them were scrawled pictures of other trolls. A few of them he recognized from pictures in books, but most of them looked completely unfamiliar to him.

“How decorated,” he marveled. “It was not this fancy at the other festival.”

“We’re not even in the main portion,” she said. “Wait until you see that.”

She led him through the twisting alleyways of the city, deftly maneuvering paths he didn’t even know existed. Delicious aromas of breakfast hung in the air from all the trolls cooking, and those with small bird lusii chirped at the strangers coming through. The decorations were minimal here, but any troll that had a window pointing out to these areas had a flag, or strips of fabric, or anything hanging out of open windows in their blood color.

The alleys managed to pop themselves straight into downtown with little trouble at all. The smell of greasy breakfast foods sizzling on grills in brightly colored food trucks greeted them instantly. Pop-up tents and overhangs made rainbows on the streets for vendors to sell whatever they wanted. The music was louder now, and he could even make out words overtop the sound of fiddles and harmonicas that played on a makeshift stage. It brought out couples of all castes (though all landdwelling) to listen, some even going out of their way to dance however they knew how. In the distance, he could just make out a few easy-to-set-up games and rides, but their unfortunate association with carnivals might have dissuaded them from setting them up.

“Oh,” he breathed, careful to keep his voice loud enough so she could hear. “It’s…wow.”

“Glad you like it,” she said. “Because we need to get actual food before it gets any busier.” She started her way toward a food truck donned in dark red with vibrant green windows, Dontoc keeping pace up next to her.

“It...it is going to get busier?”

“Well yeah.” She looked at him and frowned. “Is that going to be a problem? I’ll be here the whole time, but I know Valeba won’t and --”

“Pallia, if it becomes a problem, you will be the first to know,” he said gently. He looked around. It made sense that it was going to only get busier. While there was a crowd, the crowd around them was still sporadic enough that aside from clumps of people around the vendors and music, large gaps between others indicated the crowd wasn’t too bad yet. “Why do you ask?”

“Well I...I kinda wanna stay for the fireworks and those aren’t going to be until later tonight,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“It is more than okay. It sounds absolutely fantastic. Honestly dear, I am flattered you even thought to ask to go with me,” he said.

He could’ve sworn there was a light tint of teal on her cheeks, but she turned away before he could confirm or deny it in any fashion, putting all of her focus instead on ordering food. They settled on two cups of coffee and two giant plates of waffles covered in a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream dyed to look red and yellow. Breakfast in the absolute loosest sense of the word, but he didn’t care. He was hungry, and with the near sweltering temperature, ice cream looked more delicious than usual.

The two sat down at a picnic table further away from the majority of the crowd to eat, not that it took either of them especially long. The ice cream tasted perfect for the weather, even managing to make drinking hot coffee at this time of day seem like a smarter decision. That was ignoring just how well cooked the waffle itself was: crispy at the edges, but warm and impossibly soft in the middle. At some point he’d have to figure out what exactly made their food so much better than anything he’s ever had in Sindaria, but right now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to just savor the food.

The band playing music ended their song, followed by claps from all around. The singer, a bronzeblood with short horns that curled outwards and a buzzcut, stepped forward up towards a standing microphone.

“Good morning Sandyhorn!” he called out. “Are y’all having a good time?”

Most of the crowd in close proximity let out loud cheers. Some even threw in a few loud whistles or more animalistic-noises that vaguely matched some of the lusii in the area. The bronzeblood beamed, and Dontoc could clearly see the numerous gaps in his teeth.

“Yeah! Great! Then let’s get this event really going with some great local music!” He backed away from the microphone, over towards an electric guitar on a stand. The drummer in the back clicked off a beat and the band swung into a frenzy, immediately playing a high tempo song. The fiddle soared above the rest of the song, quickly becoming the focus of the whole song.

Then, finally, the other instruments quieted down so you could hear the singer, singing angrily about his matesprit being culled by drones and the havoc it’s caused him. He actually felt bad that the song was so uptempo and catchy he would want to dance to if he actually knew how to dance properly, which is to say, could do much at all aside from basic ballroom dancing he taught himself to look proper at Careen’s parties. The food on his plate kept him relatively grounded to the table too, of course.

Not that it mattered. Listeners and dancers crowded around the stage. Those who didn’t have partners bobbed up and down, fists in the air. Some trolls previously over at a vendor even went over to join in. He glanced over at Pallia, little more than scraps on the paper plate, who swayed slightly in her seat as she mouthed out the words.

“Know the song?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously. “They perform it every sweep since they came. It’s an old favorite.”

About midway through the song, the instruments dropped off, leaving nothing but the fiddle playing a vaguely familiar tune that Dontoc swore was some folk song he’s heard played on the streets before. Listeners clapped in time as the melody sped up and swelled. Dancers twirled around each other in a flurry of burgundy skirts. It drew him in, making him want to just abandon their spot and learn how to move like they did…to spin and twirl and dance like water on the shore...

With a final cymbal hit, everything abruptly ended. The song, the dancers, everything. Pallia looked between their now-empty plates and cups and gathered them up. Dontoc was about to insist on throwing everything away, but by the time he shook himself out of his stupor completely, she had already returned.

“So? Wanna check out the shops?”

“You do not even have to ask me, dear,” he said. “Although I cannot imagine it would not take very long to get through all of them. Sandyhorn is large but ah, well, it is not Sindaria.”

With a sharp laugh, Pallia rolled her eyes. “We’ll ssssee about that.”

He quickly learned how wrong he was. The popups went on for far longer than was initially visible, and they sold anything and everything sellable. Tealbloods in business suits handed out business cards rubber banded to water balls as they quietly tried to encourage him to find something requiring financial compensation. Rust and bronzebloods had showcases of homemade jewelry and clothing homespun from the natural fibers around them. Winemakers and beer brewers offered free samples of their product, some others even offering it for sale. Pallia tried a few, only going for the ones labeled from sweet fruits. Occasionally she’d offer a sample to him, asking if he wanted any for the hive. A few he was mildly interested in, but only a couple stood out. One, an expensive strawberry wine that when he watched it light up her eyes, he purchased it the minute she wasn’t paying attention. A present for the holiday, he told himself. Nothing more.

At the end of the wine popups, a strong arm abruptly pulled him aside, spinning him so he faced her. She was a yellowblood, shorter than him with horns that seemed to match the yellow diamond carefully embroidered into her floor length dress. Her filled in eyes indicated her age, and the lack of bifurcation indicated her usefulness to society. Long, poker straight hair pooled around her waist. It did nothing to hide the plastic, fake extra points on her ears to make her look like she stepped out of a Eastern Alternian Fantasy Animation.

“Hello,” she said smoothly. “I am she called the Great Silkfoot. And you look like you could do for some of my wines.”

Dontoc stared at her blankly. “I...I ah….”

She gave him a sly smile, eyes flitting between him and the crowd beyond them. “Oh please, there is no reason to act embarrassed around me, milord. I’m merely a pleasant peasant woman selling tonics to the mm….tension between you and your friend.” His fins twitched violently at the way she said tension. And friend. There was no friend the way she said it. His face was probably hot, but it was hard to feel when such a warm body was this close to himself.

“I...look, I...I assure you Ms., uh, Silkfoot…” Dontoc trailed off, swallowing harshly and steadying his breath before continuing. His hands shook quietly, but he did his best to fight off the rising panic attack at the sudden touching, “there is no tension between us. And we are friends. Not...well, friends or however you said it.”

“Hm. Then perhaps Silkfoot could offer a more personal fix for your tension?” She ran a hand up his arm and he shuddered involuntarily. “You really are just so tense, and I could most certainly fix just so very easily.”

“My...my tension would not be assisted by you,” he muttered darkly.

“Nonsense!” She said brightly. “I know what a good violetblood lord needs and what they need is --”

“Gadung!” Pallia’s voice rang through the air. In an instant, Gadung released Dontoc, scowling quite noticeably at Pallia. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Why, selling my product. What does it look like?” she asked. The honeyed tone from earlier was dead and replaced with a far sharper, more venomous one.

“It lookss like ssomething I will gladly report to your FLARP queen,” Pallia hissed. “I know through Mayola you don’t get to play the trapdoor spider outside the game.”

“Oh please. Silkfoot isn't playing her character,’ she scoffed, pushing her hair over her shoulder dramatically. Gadung’s hand went down to the bottle holding the covered bottle of wine, tracing the knuckles. Dontoc tensed up, but she didn't seem to notice. “I'm merely selling my high quality wine as a permanent fix to real Alternian issues.”

“You're fondling the matesprit of the Heiress,” she said flatly.

“I am--!” She stopped, side-eyeing him. “Wait...but you look far too straight-laced to impress my queen.”

“The heiresssss,” Pallia said. “The big one.”

The hand on his jerked away as if it were on fire. However, her smile returned. “Well. This adds quite the dynamic,” she said smoothly.

Pallia sighed. “The only thing it adds is a valid reason for you to let us go,” she said. “And if you keep this up, I will stop purchasing from your queen.”

Gadung scowled again, showing off the barest hint of jagged teeth. “Fine. Good evening, tealblood.” She winked at Dontoc. “And milord.”

Pallia rolled her eyes again as she briskly walked off. Dontoc hurried behind her.

“She seemed...interesting,” Dontoc said. “If a bit touchy for me.”

“She’s a trapdoor spider.”

Dontoc raised his eyebrows. “How informative. Soon you may be speaking in nothing but grunts.”

“They're trolls in Darkwood that get others plastered and pail them. Gadung...is notorious. I only put up with her because she's a good brewer.” Pallia groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “And for her to jump on you of all trolls! The obvious anxious one. It's just sleazy, really. I should've lied and told her I was your matesprit, but Careen’s holds weight.”

He swallowed harshly, throat dry, and shook his head.“Such would not have been necessary. You diffused the situation perfectly fine without,” he said, fins fluttering softly. “But I do thank you. I doubt I would have gotten out of there alone.”

“You're a friend and she's a self-important troll sleeping her way to the top,” she said. “Don't worry about it.”

They left it at that. Pallia was careful to stay close to him for the rest of their time together, even as trolls kept their distance. They avoided the games and rides section altogether, on Dontoc's request. Not that it took Pallia much convincing: she hardly seemed like she wanted to go that way anyway, and was more than happy to lead the two of them away. She promised it was almost time anyway for the best part anyway.

With a mischievous grin, she led him away from the largest part of the slowly-thinning crowd, all the way towards the far-end of the park, where the path stopped and the shrubbery turned wild. A few trolls - all lowbloods, he noticed, they were the only two past yellow - hung around, taking seats in the grass. Pallia did the same, finding a spot for them just past a few trees.

“Have you ever seen fireworks?” she asked curiously as she sat down on her knees.

Dontoc followed suit, shoulders just touching for the briefest second before he shuffled away. “I lived underwater or in isolation for so long, things exploding in the sky for amusement would not be a common commodity,” he said.

“Huh. I figured Careen liked the extravagance,” she said. “Guess not.”

“But I will get to see them now,” he said warmly. “Whenever they start.”

In the distance, he heard a loud boom, pulling the conversation away. Dontoc looked up to the sky just in time to see it light up in bright white sparkles, crackling as they fell to the ground. Smoke hung in its wake, a light gray against the star-filled sky.

“Was that…”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Pretty cool right?”

He nodded wordlessly, enraptured. Another one shot towards upwards, whistling as it skyrocketed upwards and bloomed like a flower, making a big circle of bright yellow outlining dark red. As soon as the first one faded, two more booms sent off vibrant circles of green and blue adjacent to the space where the first two fell.

Then another, this one making smoke swirls in the sky, exploded in a shower of hazy jade and fell in lines of jade. He glanced over at Pallia, face illuminated by the firework, and she smiled.

“Happy Freedom Festival,” she said. Then, so softly he could barely hear it, she muttered, “Thanks for coming.”

He smiled back, turning away at the sound of the next firework exploding to hopefully hide the creeping blush. It probably failed, but for once in his life, Dontoc didn't care. Not when the night went like this. “Happy Freedom Festival, dear.”  He didn’t speak again until the next firework exploded, letting his thank you for everything die in the noise. 

((Like what I write? Buy me a coffee!))

#fantroll #fantrolls #homestuck #hiveswap #fanfiction #my writing #dontoc #pallia #the calm before the careen storm tbh #after this is when she starts to really start pulling her bs #but that's for another oneshot

[chuckling-chemist]

Happy Freedom Festivals, Pregame Edition! ((1/2))

((A 4th of July inspired piece for fantrolls. It’s in 2 parts to break up the story a bit, the first being the set up of the event/morning thereof and the second part involving the festival will be posted later. Also I split it up since, on its own, this still works as a cute, fluffy slice of life piece, so like, I feel less bad if I don’t finish it completely.))

((forward==>))

“Good morning Dontoc! How’d you ssssleep?”

Dontoc glanced over to the sound of the voice as he walked in the kitchen, smiling wryly at the petite tealblood pacing around the kitchen, wrapped granola bar in her hand. Her hair, normally pulled back in some kind of messy bun, fell down past her face and bounced around her head. She hadn't changed into any sort of casual wear, opting instead for a purple night shirt and black sweats.

“Would you like the honest answer or the nice answer, dear?” he asked.

They both knew the honest answer. Dontoc had found Pallia working in her lab upon his return from Careen’s in the daytime hours, watching a clear liquid overtop a viscous purple one bubbling inside a round bottom flask. He had to coax her to get any kind of sleep whatsoever, eventually winning her over with reminding her she's done the same for him...after requesting to assist her.

He’s almost certain it was past 3 pm by the time they went to their respiteblocks.

She stopped pacing to look at him threw askew half-moon frames. “Well you're sscertainly chipper for no ssssleep.”

“I could say the same for you,” Dontoc said as he took a seat. He sniffed the air, resisting to frown at the lack of breakfast smells.  “Unless...coffee? But I do not smell it.”

“Oh no I'm steadily running on sleep deprivation and excitement.” She grinned. He tried to ignore the small warmth it sent him. “Coffee sounds good though. Want some?”

Dontoc took a seat in a rickety chair, watching Pallia dart around the kitchen looking for everything needed. “Such a drink sounds exquisite. Though perhaps we should wait for Aisral. I do not wish to see her in the mornings without caffeine.”

“Aisral can make her own coffee,” Pallia huffed. She pulled down two ceramic white mugs from a low cabinet, setting both next to him. “It's not my fault she's decided to spend the morning of one of the biggest festivals of Sandyhorn this side of anything vaguely related to 12th Perigee working,” she said.

“I feel like they are all the biggest festival,” he said. 

“Oh no. You haven’t seen this one,” she leaned on the counter to face him, arms crossed. “The night Sandyhorn celebrates the turnaround from a slaver’s plantation hellhole to a landdwelling haven for tealbloods and down. What it is now.”

He did know, somewhat. Sandyhorn was a strange location for such a city of lowbloods, existing right off the coast in a surprisingly good location for tobacco and sugar trade, even with the extreme weather. While too sandy for most seadwellers too live comfortably (most seadwellers preferred complete underwater living to anything to do with the land), undoubtedly highbloods could and once lived comfortably. He could identify it even by the architecture. And now they just...didn’t. Sure, occasionally you’d run into a cobaltblood or indigoblood, but purplebloods were unheard of, and Dontoc could count the seadwellers living there on his fingers. But he never got much in the way of a finer description for what happened and how it stayed, only that it involved multiple slave revolts and the formation of a free port somewhere in the sand bar.

“To be fair, I have not yet seen the 12th Perigee festivities, what with Careen’s ball. And the one after that - the Feast of Fools? - the two of us were out of town for a whole week.” He ran a hand through his hair, guilt washing over him in waves. He had wanted to go to those events he just had...prior engagements. “Why did you not go to her ball, anyway? I never asked. Ah, if I can ask, that is.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Not my thing. Can't dance. No one I like there. Drunken debauchery sounds more fun.” She climbed up onto the counter top and sat on her knees, now only just barely able to reach the top shelf. “All we have is a dark roast. That okay?”

“If it has caffeine, honestly I will be satisfied,” he admitted. “Just watching you is exhausting me.”

“Oh, uh...right.” She slowly slid off the countertop, bag of ground coffee beans in hand. “Sorry. I'm just excited.”

“As do many things,” he said.  “And normally I enjoy it but…”

She let out a short laugh as the coffee pot started up, bubbling just loud enough for Dontoc to register it started up. “When you're not running on three hours after working?”

Another wry smile, this one seen and returned by Pallia. “Something like that, yes. If you constitute what we did as working,” he said. His fins fluttered lightly at the memory of the day prior. It was working in the most technical sense. If that counted.

“As much ‘working’ as Aisral is doing right now, I'm sure,” she said. She slid into the chair across from him, making a face at the statement. “The casual version, of course. I just realized that sounded far worse out loud than in my head.”

Dontoc quirked an eyebrow. The air quotes, while not mimed out, could certainly be heard in her voice. “Mayola?”

It felt almost planned, the way the other seadweller, wrapped up in a fluffy teal bathrobe that barely covered her, pranced into the room and plopped herself next to him, sprawled between two chairs despite being smaller than Dontoc. Her mid-length dark hair gathered in wet clumps that left a trail of water droplets behind her. Aisral shuffled shortly behind, dressed in her standard pants suit outlined in accents of teal and fuschia. She walked immediately toward the kettle and started boiling water, grabbing a few teabags and ramen packets nearby it.

“The one and motherfucking only,” Mayola said.  She sniffed the air. “Oh and coffee! Perfect start to gettin’ drunk in the name of freedom.”

Dontoc had to resist rolling his eyes. Pallia didn't even bother. “You guys can have the next brew. I only put enough in for the myself and Dontoc.”

Mayola snorted, all interest suddenly gone. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. I'll just go buy some lemon squeeze juice at the festival anyways.”

“You can still have coffee--”

“I gotta meet up with Nivs anyhow. Seein’ as I'm seadwelling, I need some kinda excuse t’be down there.”

“You never needed an excuse before,” Aisral muttered, still not looking up. “Unless you feel a sudden urge of responsibility?”

The coffee pot let out a soft ding, signifying its completion. Something Pallia didn't notice at all.

“Responsibility? Nah. Just settin’ a good example for our new seadwellin’ friend here.” Mayola roughly clapped him on the shoulder, thoughts of coffee suddenly gone and replaced with Careen's warnings of volatile lowbloods roaming the streets to attack nobility and how he should stay inside.

“Uh...really? I, ah, well...from what I was told that does, that does not make--”

“Oh come off it. Mayola you're gonna psssych him out and Valeba'sss not here,” Pallia said. With a kind smile his direction, she added, “You'll be fine. Culling of highbloodsss would make the event too high profile.”

He nodded, anxiety only somewhat quelled. “Ah, yes. Right. Right. Thank you, Pallia. Which, by the way-”

“Hey wait who the hell’s Valeba?” Mayola asked. She shifted positions to only take up one chair now, but lounged as if it were a full throne.

“Valeba is my moirail.” He looked over, noticing the obvious confusion with her fins twitching violently enough they seemed to shudder and added, “You did not possibly think Pallia and I were--”

“No, course not,” she said airily. “I know Shorty’s quad situation like the back’o my hand--” he looked at Pallia for confirmation, who just shrugged noncommittally “--name sounds familiar 's all.”

“Excuse me if that sounds well ah...vague,” he said. Looking back at Pallia, he said, “Also, you should know--”

“Goddamnit!!”

Everyone swiveled their head toward the sound of the commotion. Aisral slammed down a large teacup, dark liquid sloshing all over the counter. “This is the last time I run on no sleep!”

Without missing a beat, Pallia called out, “I'm not cleaning that.”

“What even did you do?” Dontoc asked. “You were brewing tea correct?”

“Tea does not have ramen inside it!” Aisral snapped, flailing her arms about wildly.

Oh.

Dontoc couldn't resist a quiet chuckle at the angry troll in the corner, exchanging a glance at Pallia as he did so. She snickered behind her hand, but it was still plainly audible as a distinct hiss. Mayola didn't even bother hiding it, chortling loudly in the chair.

“Oh my God, I cannot believe you did it again!”

“Says the troll who is the reason I did not sleep because she just realized I am one of the only trolls in existence who actually files her claws,” Aisral retorted.

“And I'm out,” Pallia said. She stood up, leaving her mug on the table. “I'll get some breakfast at the festival. Do you wanna come, Dontoc? I'm guessing you don't have plans for the night.”

“I ah...well, yes, Careen is refraining from the celebrations,” he said. “She believes it to be dangerous for highbloods.”

Her exact words had been, “I for one refuse to partake in something so beneath myself if it's already a danger to my physical, social and mental health,” followed by chastising him for even showing any interest, but there was no reason anyone in the room had to know that.

“Princess thinks engagin’ with a hiveless troll professionally is 'dangerous’,” Mayola sneered. With a noticeable glare from Pallia, she hastily added, “But maybe she's different 'round ya, since you're not another heiress 'n shit. And still a seadweller. Ya gotta get a circle of friends like that somehow.”

“Perhaps,” he said. She probably wasn't. A little under a sweep in their relationship had soured it greatly for him, and if her lack of affection over the winter until Red Quadrant Appreciation Day in spring indicated anything, she likely felt the same. But there was no reason to dump that here. Really, breaking things off now would result in the least amount of hurt feelings for both parties. “She is quite friendly to those in her circle. All five or six of them”

Pallia cleared her throat loudly. “Uh, right. Well, whether you're coming or not, I need to get into actual clothes. I'm not gonna force you to go if you don't want to,” she said. She turned on her heel, hair swishing behind her as she started walking off.

Dontoc sighed, scurrying after her as she strode down the hallway. Was she...upset? Probably not. Pallia had generally been open with him, down to mentioning anything between her and Careen was personal and had nothing to do with him. He loved (liked, he told himself, he liked) that about her: he knew where he stood with her and never really was stuck guessing the way he was back in schoolfeeding.

Maybe he just struck a nerve. He could only imagine how annoyed he'd be if Pallia engaged romantically with someone who tormented him in his younger sweeps -- in particular a red or pale romance. Sure, he's polite enough in general and he could hold his tongue, but even he could only go on for so long talking about them before he'd have to leave the room.  

And that was ignoring the flush crush. He couldn't even imagine how the introduced variable would affect things

“No, no, do hold on! I would love to go with you. I-I, well I quite frankly, I do not know when I last went to such an event? There was one some time...some time ago. It was some sort of seasonal one. If this one is bigger, well, it would certainly be an experience,” he said breathlessly. “Also I truly am sorry, I do hope I did not upset you.”

She shook her head with a sharp-toothed grin. “You're fine. Had to get dressed anyway and Mayola always hogs the meatblock when she's here,” she said.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he held. “Oh. So it was not me?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Good! Oh I was afraid I, ah...well...it is obvious I suppose.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “So ah, this festival then? Is it bigger than the one when I arrived in early summer?”

“Well yeah of course! That was the…” she stopped in place, right in the middle of the hallway, putting an enclosed hand over her mouth. “Oh God you've been here for over a sweep now and I barely even noticed.”

“You forgot about the flowers I gave you?” he asked. “Those were for our ah....well, anniversary is a bad term, I suppose, but...yes. That” 

She shook her head as she started to walk again, slower now that Dontoc followed her. “No. I remember those. I just didn't realize...huh. That long.” She stopped in front of her door, swinging the door open and stepping inside. “Guess I'm just pleasantly surprised how long you stuck around.”

Dontoc’s fins twitched pleasantly and he smiled. “I am glad I stuck around,” he said. He took a step inside, immediately stopped by a gentle hand on his chest.

“Unless Careen is somehow okay with you seeing me change, I'd suggest no,” she said, a light smirk playing on her face. “Plus I'm not sure I want you watching.”

His face burned. His gaze dropped from her and right to the floor, while his hands went to fiddle a non-existent bowtie. “I, ah, oh yes ah...right! I uh, my apologies for, well, not--not thinking and--”

“Dontoc?” Pallia said, her voice light. “It's fine. Go get dressed. I'll meet you at your room.” With a reassuring smile, she slowly shut the door as he turned away. He was only a few steps away as the door softly clicked into place.

Dontoc stopped. Something was missing. “Pallia?” he called out, hoping she could hear him.

No answer. He walked back up to door, giving a few, louder-than-usual raps so she could hear. “Pallia?”

He could hear swift footsteps, then a crack in the door as her head poked out. He kept his gaze pointedly at her eyes, refusing to even possibly look any further down and entertain the possibility she wasn't dressed appropriately. Such wouldn't be proper.

“Hm?” There was no annoyance in her voice, only curiosity.

He gave her a sheepish smile as color tinted his cheeks. “I am sorry to say, but I do believe we forgot the coffee.”

((1/2))

((Like what I write? Buy me a coffee!))

#fantroll #homestuck #hiveswap #fantrolls #fanfiction #my writing #dontoc #pallia #aisral #mayola #edit: fixed a line to cover up a minor plot hole

[chuckling-chemist]

The Dreaded Alternian Sun

((Wrote a short piece in honor of how fucking oppressive the sun has been these past few weeks to make me feel better. Seriously, it's not supposed to be this mad in fucking northern Ohio, my God))

“Ow. Ow. Ow!”

“You know it would hurt lesss if you hold sssstill," she said, her hiss more defined than usual. Delicate fingers lifted Dontoc’s thin arm for him and shoved his sleeve down. In a mere few hours, his body had turned a hot, angry shade of violet, covered in raised bumps. A huge jar of a translucent gel sat next to her on a wheeled cart as she slathered up and down his arm. He let out his own loud hiss in pain at the touch, the sudden coolness sending waves of pain against the heat covering his skin. Dontoc’s whole body felt like it was on fire. His white dress shirt and dark pants, as well tailored and close fitting as they were thanks to Aisral, ignited new sparks of blistering agony if he so much as breathed too deeply.  Thankfully he had chosen to forgo the full on suit jacket, otherwise he couldn’t imagine just how bad his body would be.

Pallia gently slid his sleeve back down and he shuddered violently at the touch. “I am still!”

She rolled her eyes. “You jump any time I touch you and I’m being as careful as posssssible,” she pointed out.

If Dontoc’s cheeks were burning, he couldn’t feel it. Instead he felt waves of burning from his fins as they flapped wildly in embarrassment, adding a pleasant breeze onto his dark purple face. “Well yes, it is rather difficult to not jump if my whole body is on fire.”

“That’s becausse you have sssun poissoning! The second worst case I think I’ve ever seen - and only by virtue that Vodnik’s an idiot!” She wheeled the jar around to the front of his body. “And he’ss sssoo jumpy I literally have to bind him to the chair.” She stepped up closer to him, close enough that he could feel the lowerblood’s natural body temperature emanate off him. Despite their large caste difference, he felt so hot that her own body felt colder by comparison, though that might have been the gel on her fingers he felt as her fingers effortlessly unbuttoned his shirt.

Of course, under normal circumstances he would feel embarrassment at having his hivemate (and flush crush? He hadn’t tried to think about it after the two got drunk on his Wiggling Day) taking off his shirt, but it was hard to feel anything aside from every nerve in his body firing off at once. And mild nausea.

Dontoc narrowed his eyes. “You would not bind me to a chair,” he said.

She stopped unbuttoning his shirt midway to give him a look that indicated she most definitely would if he continued.  

He sat there in silence as she liberally applied the gel across his body. Well manicured claws dug into the palm of his hand as she glided freezing cold gel over hyper-sensitive skin. As her hands slowly moved upwards, his heart rate skyrocketed, the hard thumping against his chest only sending frequent reminders of the consequences of his choice.

“Dontoc are you breathing?”

He quickly exhaled breath he didn't realize he held and sharply inhaled just as harshly, burns be damned. “Uh...no, I suppose not.” he said sheepishly. His hand started to move up to run a hand through his hair, but she caught it before it moved an inch. “Don't move?”

“Pleasse.” She glanced down at his hand. “And maybe try preventing your hands from bleeding?”

“They are not--” She swiped a finger across his palm and held it up. Sure enough, just enough blood came off his hand he could see the violet against teal. “Oh,” he breathed.

“Yeah. Oh.” She shook her head. “What were you even doing out there anyway? They do teach seadwellers the sun’s not exactly pleasssssant don't they?”

His fins fanned out for brief second before immediately retracting twice as quickly from the pain. “Of course they do!”

“Then why did--”

“I was getting a surprise gift, is why!” he exclaimed. His voice sounded sharper in his head than usual, but that could just as easily been heat exhaustion. At least, that's what he hoped. “And, if I am being fair, with all the other pieces they taught us that are abject lies, why should I believe them now?”

Pallia grinned, fangs poking out from her lips. “...Okay that's fair.” As she spoke, Pallia stopped applying the gel and stared at him. Her eyes flickered from his head to the window showing the dark sky onward, pale blue light from the tinted window leaking in. Then, with a bit of a playful smirk, said, “Who’s it for?”

“I hardly think that is the point,” Dontoc muttered. He was trying to keep the petals he picked for her - petals from a flower that only flowered in the daytime with some sort of medicinal purpose - a surprise for the anniversary of them meeting nearly a sweep ago.

“No, no, no. The matter needs to be addressed. What's the occasion?” She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “Actually, no. You're right. Now's not the time. We’ll address this later. Now, I need you to hold as still as possible as I take off your shirt. Need to do your back.”

He didn't question this order. No point when he wanted to gear the topic away from her gift. She lightly tapped his arms and he stiffly moved them in just the right position she could easily strip the oppressively hot fabric off.

She wheeled the cart behind him and disappeared. He had no time to prepare for the blast of cold right down his spine, body going ramrod straight.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Cold.”

Pallia giggled. “That has got to be the first time I've heard you swear. You really did a number on yoursssself."

“It is considered improper for my caste who I lived around for several sweeps,” he pointed out. “Still a noble, you know. Living in whatever Sandyhorn is changed little in my birth status.”

“Doesn't stop Mayola.”

He’d laugh if it didn't hurt. “Nothing stops that woman,” he said darkly. He paused and bit his lip worriedly. Fortunately the gel seemed to be working and took the edge off the burning, which also helped calm himself down. Unfortunately, with that welcome feeling also came the far less welcome feelings of guilt and anxiousness that came with getting upset at his friend, and possibility she was actually mad at him, just hiding it.

“And Pallia?”

“Hm?”

“Speaking of improper, I do apologize for snapping at you. And making you worry. The former was --” he groaned in discomfort as another slather of gel hit his back “--rude, and the latter was selfish.”

“Eh, I just figured this is making you crabby. Plus you perk back up easily,” she said nonchalantly. He couldn't well see her, but knew her well enough to guess she probably shrugged. “Which I'd be too. Just, like, tell me next time you wanna do this okay? I have lotion for this.”

He sat there in confused silence for who  knows how long before managing to make some kind of sentence. “You….what?”

“I keep lotion that reacts with the sun’s UV rays instead of you to prevent it from boiling your skin alive. We could’ve prevented this whole thing! Granted if you're out there for any more than five minutes you'd have to near continuously apply it but…”

She kept talking, but he barely registered. Dontoc had to fight every instinct in his body not to bury his face in his hands right there. It would’ve ruined the surprise -- maybe -- but he wouldn't have to suffer through what could only be described as brutal torture.

Instead, he just sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed as Pallia massaged the gel into his skin as carefully as she could. Nothing to do now but accept the consequences.

“Damn it.”

And possibly swear a little more, too.

((Enjoy what I write? Help me buy Hiveswap! a coffee!))

#homestuck #hiveswap #fantroll #fanfiction #fantrolls #long post #my writing #pallia #dontoc

[chuckling-chemist]

Dontoc’s 10th Wiggling Day

Wiggling Day. The day in every troll’s life where they grow another sweep older, despite what some trolls may want. Even back in Sindaria, where trolls had money to splurge on any sudden flight of fancy they chose, the anniversary of their hatching had always been more of a solemn affair of remembrance than any cause for celebration, with the most attention given being on your seventh sweep for your ordeals. Ordeals that Dontoc didn't partake in, as he managed to completely isolate himself from all of society at the time, but such would be the general order.

But as he adjusted to life on land, in particular life outside Sandyhorn, he learned something about lowbloods (at least lowbloods of this area, so disconnected from much of the Empire): when you don't live long, any day is an excuse for a celebration.

Dontoc was not a lowblood. He would never know what it's like to be a lowblood, truly believing any day could be your last and being treated like lesser beings every step of the way. But he could get behind the sentiment of celebrating silly things, his wiggling day included. Ten sweeps was a big day after all. Not the biggest by any means, but it was the first sweep hitting double digits. And the first sweep of him living on the mainland with other trolls. Not underwater. Not on an island, small enough to hold the enormous mansion once belonging to his ancestor and little else.

It was a little overwhelming, to say the least.

He wasn't disappointed when his matesprit Careen explained in vivid detail why she was going to be too busy to do anything with him today, between her omnipresent duties as an heiress and necessity to keep appearances for anyone watching, and of course a quiet, socially anxious troll wasn't good for that. Not to mention, they did spend some time the previous week which ended in her above-water hive on her couch, engaged in less-than-appropriate activities as a movie that Dontoc had been quite interested in played in the background. She called it his early wiggling day present, since that was a local custom here, and they left it at that.

And his moirail, Valeba, was off the table. He wasn't certain where she lived exactly, only that it quite a ways from here and when the two first crossed paths she was just traveling through. Before they parted last perigee she gave him rather specific directions to her hive, but his knowledge (or rather, lack thereof) of the continent left him just as confused as before, with only the additional information she was hours away with no easy method of transportation to get there except by foot or lusus. And there was a lake. He could message her online, but that was it.

So quadrants were out. And walking into Sandyhorn alone, while not dangerous at his caste, would certainly gift him with uncomfortable stares unless he did something to hide his fins - something near impossible when they naturally fanned out as much as his. Then again, he hadn't done much to check out anything local alone, which he supposed could be fun. But did he really want to go alone? After all, this was his first wiggling day that he was doing something special. Lonely wandering of a city wasn't special.

Then again...he could ask Pallia.

The two were hivemates, after all. And friends. In the few perigees he’d lived there so far, she had went of her way to take him out to various restaurants in the city. Granted, they hadn’t spent much time together lately, but the two of them were busy: her with completely engaging herself with the first real sample of violet troll blood he allowed her to take, and he spent much of his time running around with Careen. And up until the other night, it did nothing to stop the never ending stream of texts the two sent each other whenever they happened to share downtime. And if she said no, as disappointing as it would be, it wouldn’t surprise him. She was busy. Or well, probably busy. But if the worst that could happen was get a polite no, he could deal with that.

He supposed several worse things could happen between the two of them, but those thoughts he forcibly pushed away with a slow, shaky breath.

With a quick tie of his bowtie, he strolled down to the end of the hallway. Each possible scenario that could happen played in his head: Pallia said yes and the two went and did...something. Dontoc wasn't sure what, just something. Pallia said yes and somehow had a night planned for them. Pallia said no and left it that. Pallia said no and stated her secret hatred for him. Pallia shut the door in his face in disgust at the mere suggestion. Pallia --

He stopped in front of her door. “No,” he muttered under his breath. “You have lived here for half a sweep now. At worst, she says no. At best she--”

“Hey Dontoc!” a bright voice chirped. “Need something?”

His head jerked over towards the source to find Pallia, covered head to toe in a fluffy teal bathrobe. Her half-moon glasses, so fogged he doubted she could actually see through them, rested on the bottom of her nose. Several perigees ago this would have greatly embarrassed the both of them (and even now he found his fins try to cool the growing heat on his face), but by now they had gotten mostly used to it.

Mostly.

“Oh, ah, hello Pallia. Did you…” he narrowed his eyes. “Is that Aisral’s?”

“No. This was my 12th Perigee present from her. Granted, I think it's a vaguely aggressive statement at all the times I have totally stolen her robe…” she laughed awkwardly. “But it's really fluffy.”

“I suppose that is a reason as any to steal your hivemate’s clothes,” he said.

She grinned. “Wanna feel?”

“I...uh...hm.” He glanced at the robe again. He had to admit, it looked soft as a pillow. “Are you...are you wearing anything underneath? As I feel, as curious as I must admit I am, it might be--”

Pallia held her hand up, silencing him immediately. “Right. I get it. Too weird.” She gently nudged Dontoc’s shoulder, a quick reminder he stood in front of her door. “When it's hanging off a hanger then.”

Dontoc blanched. “You...you will have clothes on correct? I...ah, I am just qualifying be...because I do have a matesprit and that...it might be misinterpreted.”

She blinked owlishly. “Uh...yes? Don't know why I wouldn't be wearing clothes,” she said. “Though speaking of which, I should probably change and you should probably not watch.”

“Wait.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, immediately pulling it away when he touched bare skin instead of fabric. “I have a question actually. I was not just here to ah...catch you in this state, so to speak.”

She shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first. But go ahead.”

Dontoc swallowed thickly, gaze falling down to fiddling fingers. “Well...I ah...do not have much to do tonight. But it is my Wiggling Day, and well, do you have anything to do?”

“I...uh…” she looked at her door. “I will be later. Way later though. Kinda gonna be busy for a while though.”

It was hard for him to fight the disappointment bubbling in his stomach. It wasn't an I hate you, for which he was glad, but even being prepared for the rejection didn't stop it. “Right. Sorry for bothering you, then.”

“You're not bothering me by asking,” she said. “And I'm free later. Just not...not now. I've got stuff to do, you know? But it's your Wiggling Day. I'm not making you spend it alone. Text you when I'm done? We can meet up back at the hive.”

Dontoc smiled, nodding what was likely a little too happily. “Just to calm my anxiety...you are not just doing it out of guilt, right?”

She looked over to him with a sly smile. “Couldn't even imagine,” she said. Dontoc merely stared as she entered her room, quietly shutting the door before she could see the goofy grin plastered across his face.

“Well,” he finally said, “That could have gone worse.”

It also didn't resolve the issue of what he would do in the meantime. But, as he walked downstairs and towards the front doors, that was okay. He had something to do, even if it was sometime in the unknown future. There was just the matter of what he would until then.

He took slow, uncertain steps into the chilly air. Snow from a few nights ago still covered the ground and dusted the trees, but in comparison to the last few weeks, it was pleasantly warm. Possibly even above freezing. More than enough reason to take a walk to Sandyhorn to get a cup of warm tea instead of calling for a ride, or staying inside.

(Granted, part of this stemmed from his heavy interest in observing the changing seasons. Living underwater and so far south made his environment extremely stagnant, and the constant variation fascinated him. The only problem he found with the season was the bitter winds and his body’s wonderful natural setup to let heat escape as opposed to stay.)

The other benefit to the weather was the lack of foot traffic. Dontoc managed to get into his favorite cafe with minimal staring and only a scattered few mid and lowbloods already seated inside with breakfast sandwiches and drinks. No line to potentially stand behind, and most certainly no wait to feel guilty about when management insisted he get served first.

He stayed there for a few hours, sipping tea while texting his moirail. She seemed a bit confused that he chose to celebrate it, but wished him a happy wiggling day nonetheless. From there, it was all talk of whatever exotic location she currently traveled to interspersed with talk of her excited ramblings about history and promises to show him whatever she found, complete with grainy pictures of what he thought was an ancient rock formation. Her bubbling excitement made it hard to get much of a word in edgewise, but he was okay with that. His life wasn’t grand or exciting, like hers was, and aside from growing a sweep older nothing of note happened lately. The next thing Dontoc knew, Valeba informed him she would have to take her leave to get some semblance of sleep. He didn’t even realize how long he sat there until he took a final sip of now-cold tea.

The next few hours he spent walking around Sandyhorn, generally window shopping at the smaller stores that didn’t recognize him as Careen’s matesprit and only treated him with the unfortunate, yet expected, distant respect underscored by fear his caste granted him. He didn’t like it, but it was vastly preferable to the schmoozing and pandering they started up any time they realized appealing to him was appealing to the Heiress Apparent. The window shopping worked as a pleasant enough distraction from worrying that Pallia had been lying to make him feel better, even if he checked his phone more than he checked the trinkets in the stores.

He had pretty much given up on Pallia doing anything when he got a text: a frantic, apologetic text from her telling him to return to meet him in the mainblock of her hive.

Dontoc had never returned home so quickly in his life.

By the time he made it back up to the hive, the moons began to dip below the sky. Her lusus Monty, lazed on the one shoveled part of the sidewalk. He didn’t even bother to give a warning hiss to Dontoc. Maybe he was too tired. Or maybe, possibly, Monty stopped caring about Dontoc. Hopefully that was the case.

He barely stepped into the living room by the time he was accosted into Pallia, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Ssssorry! I meant to text you ssssooner, but ssstuff came up, and I ended up having to having to resssew a wound that opened back up with --”

“Pallia, Pallia, please. I do not mind.” He smiled warmly at her as she separated from him. Honestly, I am just glad this is still going on. Speaking of...” he trailed off, glancing about the room. Twinkling fairy lights in violet and lavender hung around the perimeter of the room on hooks. The coffee table was covered in a white and violet cloth. Bottles - a few with labels, but most of them without - of all shapes, colors and sizes sat on top next to a plate of what he swore looked like sandwiches. Blankets and pillows were piled high next to the couches. “Did you do all of this?”

“All of it?” She looked around, shaking her head. “Oh no! But I did have to pull a few favors for your present, and the sandwiches are so you don’t get too messed up. Don’t wanna drink on an empty stomach!”

Dontoc blinked owlishly at her. “Drink? Like…alcohol?”

She nodded. “Yeah! C’mon, go ahead and sit down. I didn’t know what you liked, and since you said you were okay with any flavor --”

“When did I say that?” he asked. He sat down on the floor, sitting his back against the couch. Pallia grabbed a bottle of a dark red drink and curled up on the couch across from him, feet kicked up underneath her. “Wait...do you mean back in fall? That was perigees ago! Goodness Pallia, were you planning for that long?”

A faint tinge of teal touched her cheeks. “Uh...yeah. Some of the drinks needed to sit for a while, so I had to give them plenty of time. Why? Is that bad?”

“No! It is ah, well….uh…” Rather touching, he wanted to say, if a touch over the top. But he wasn’t sure it was appropriate to say. Instead, he took a clear bottle filled with a dark blue liquid off the table. “Thank you, Pallia. For all of this.”

She grinned and held her drink in a mock toast. “No one deserves to be alone on their Wiggling Day, no matter what anyone else says.” He watched as she took a deep drink of the dark liquid and he did the same with his own bottle. It was surprisingly sweet, except it warmed his throat as it went down and left his head with a faint fuzzy feeling for the briefest second. He looked down at the drink.

“Does all alcohol do this?” he said.

“Do...what?” She cocked her head in confusion. “Make you feel floaty?”

“Ah...no. I anticipated that much. It is ah, quite warming.”

“Yep!!” She scooted up to the edge of the seat. “That’s perfectly normal. Though that stuff’s really sweet. Local speciality from one of the bartenders. I’m glad you like it.”

“Yes, it is really...really good.” He glanced at the bottle, swirling the liquid inside before taking another drink. “How much did you spend on all this?”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your Wiggling Day.”

“But Pallia, it would not cost me anything to give you the mon--”

“I’m a tealblood. It’s fine,” she said.

“You are still a midblood.”

“It’s your Wiggling Day present. You didn’t give me any money for your 12th Perigee gift,” she said.

Another long drink. He let it sit in his mouth for a while before swallowing, swishing it around back and forth before swallowing. “I thought you had Aisral make that for you?”

“Do you expect Aisral to make that for free?”

“According to some, yes.” Dontoc rolled his eyes. “Goodness knows someone would say Mayola does not pay. Or pays with pailing. Or something.”

Pallia laughed. Unlike Dontoc, she took several small drinks whenever he was talking instead of singular long ones. “Little do they know Mayola pays more than any of them ever would,” she said.

“She pays...for...pailing?”

“God, I bet she wishes.” Pallia shook her head. “No, her and Mayola are like...together. It’s why I was so caught off guard when you said you were ‘dating a fuschia’. I thought you were dating Mayola. Which like, I guess is possible but I didn’t think you were her type?”

Dontoc quirked an eyebrow. “What’s her type?”

“Women.” Pallia set her bottle down on the table, switching it out for a sandwich half. “Which well...you’re not a woman.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he said dryly. He took another drink, getting mostly air with slight drops of any actual drink. “Oh dear. I drank that much faster than I expected.”

“Yeah...be careful with that. Some of these are really strong and you’re a seadweller,” she said.

“Is that a hemoist dig?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, Dontoc. A scientific truth is a hemoist dig. Exactly right.” She shook her head, but there was a distinct smile on her face. “No, actually it’s just because alcohol dehydrates you and seadwellers need more water than someone like myself. So you’re gonna get drunk pretty quickly.”

“Oh! Yes, that makes sense.” He took a different bottle of alcohol, this one a dark red like Pallia’s. “How does it feel? Getting drunk?”

He took a drink from the second bottle. This one tasted far drier with a distinct raspberry (or was it strawberry?) flavor. It somehow managed to taste better than the first bottle.

“Really floaty. Have you never gotten drunk before?”

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His head felt...fuzzy. Filled with cotton, or someone had stuffed it with what he thought clouds were in his earliest sweeps. “No. I lived completely alone for...a while. And when I was in Sindaria, well…I’ve never exactly earned much in the way of compatriots. Even now.”

“You have me and Aisral,” she said. “And your moirail! I like her. She’s tough.”

“Yes, Valeba is wonderful. And Careen is…”

Pallia smiled wryly. “Careen?”

Dontoc sighed. He removed his bow tie and slid off his jacket, placing it on top of the couch. “A rather apt way to put it, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I like her and care about her. But…” he paused. “Oh God. No. You’re not my moirail. Please ignore me.”

“Drunk already?”   She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It comes with the inebriation. Not like you expose your life story normally.”

“I think I am? Not sure really.” He smiled sheepishly. “Either way, I don’t just want to use you for something like that just because I know you don’t like her. Why is that anyway?”

She shrugged. “Dumb stuff in the past. It’s not important. I’ll be fair, I didn’t think you were her type. Or in the reverse. Ya know?”

“Yes, I suppose the two of us make an odd pairing. But...hm...I guess to put it in an easy way...I was never well liked in my schoolfeeding. I lived in a gargantuan, gilded city and yet somehow, I alienated everyone I knew.”

“So...like me?”

Dontoc’s gaze flickered up to her. She was curled back in on herself, knees tucked up to her chest on the couch. “What? Really?” He paused. “Well...no I guess the way Careen talks about you, it does make sense. But still…”

She nodded. “I’m the scary witch in her giant cottage who puts curses on highbloods and destroyed the drones meant to take me to my Seventh Sweep Ordeal. Or something.” Dontoc had to resist a chuckle at just how hard she rolled her eyes at the statement. “You learned that much when you first came here.”

Oh. Right. He nearly had forgotten about that, and now that she mentioned it, the memories of others either warning him about her or Careen complaining about Pallia (not that he was going to say that here) came flooding back. “Well, I’ve always found your company to be highly charming.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was almost certain Pallia’s whole face turned teal. She grabbed another bottle and started to sip it. “Thanksssss. But uh...you were saying?”

“Yes. Right.” He stood up, setting the half empty bottle on the table, and moved to the other couch on the far end. “Well, anyway, I was basically hated. Like you. And so...well...to not only hold affection for someone like Careen - the Heiress, no less - but for her to immediately return it back is this bizarre self-esteem boost. Do you understand?”

“I...yeah I think so,” she said. “In a general sense. Not in an empathetic sense, but I get it. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.”

Dontoc giggled. “You too?”

“Hey, I’m small. I have every right to get drunk after 1.5 bottles.”

“And I don’t?”

She waved her hand airily. “No, you totally do too. I’m surprised it took you this many, what with having never done this before. Unless you’re some hardcore secret party beast when I’m not looking and this quiet geek is an act.”

He put his hands up in the air. “You got me,” he said. “I’m actually an extrovert roleplaying an introvert. Totally disappointed this is all I got, and not some oversized bash filled with strangers.”

Pallia scooted up closer to him. “So you like it?” she asked hopefully.

“Better gift than anything I could have asked for.”

She let out a long, almost embarrassed sounding hiss. Dontoc didn’t want to say out loud, but it was the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

He wasn’t sure how late they stayed up that day, eating sandwiches, talking and drinking. After the second bottle, everything started to run together and silly things like time stopped mattering. Him and Pallia jumped from topic to topic. They exchanged stories about their lives before they knew each other, and everything either of them missed when they were locked up in their rooms, studying or working. He told her everything about Sindaria; and more importantly, everything about his actual hive.

“I’d love to ssssee it sssomeday,” she said. After so many hours, her s’s began to draw out in long hisses. Dontoc wasn’t sure if it was just the lateness of the day, or the drunkenness. “Sounds beautiful.”

“My hive or Sindaria?”

“Your hive.” She frowned. She set her drink down on the table and laid down on the couch, her horns just poking into Dontoc’s legs. “Is that weird?”

“I don’t think that’s weird. No weirder than me living in yours.”

“Well that’ssss different. I don’t have a matesssprit, but you do, ssso it might be taken wrong for jussst an overnight-trip or whatever,” she said.

“You don’t?” That sounded….wrong. She was isolated, sure, and certainly judgemental but...she also actually, truly cared about him (and even complete strangers) in a way he wasn't used to. And a lot of fun to talk to. Just about every time they stayed up, it ended up being early in the morning when he should be sleeping. Like now.

And she was pretty. Not just the “pretty for a landdweller” way he heard seadwellers talk about as they derisively talked down low or midblooded trolls that presented themselves alongside highbloods, but not in the way seadwellers generally showed themselves off as pretty: something ethereal and unobtainable to the common populous. There was a shine to her eyes behind her glasses no matter how far up they sat on her face, a way her lips quirked when she smiled or laughed that made him never want to stop listening. Even as she sprawled out drunkenly over most the couch in glorified loungewear, he found himself glancing back down at her more than he'd wish to admit for no reason than to just look. It only got worse the drunker he got, leaving an odd, unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach. But maybe it was just the act of being inebriated.

Or maybe it was something worse. Hopefully not.

“Nope! I’m uh...not a lot of people’s type. Let’s put it that way.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind though. Running a clinic is hard enough. Running a clinic where trolls keep hitting on you?” She stuck her tongue out. “Cull me.”

“You know I’m a pacifist, dear. Culling you if such an event occurs is out of the question.”

“Valeba’ll do it.”

Dontoc laughed. “Yes...she probably would. Would be amusing.” He paused and frowned. “She will appear from halfway around the world just to do you off because some other troll finally developed a sense of taste.”

She rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows to look up at him. “Unless they're a creep. Then she can cull them.”

“Duly noted. I will remind her in the--” he yawned “--evening. Whenever we wake up in our respective rooms, of course.”

Pallia snorted. “Oh I'm not moving. Way too fuzzy for that and this couch is comfy. You probably shouldn’t either.”

“Oh Pallia I never get any sleep anyway,” Dontoc said cheekily.

She gave him a weak, playful shove. “I meant moving, you asssssss,” she said. With a good-natured huff, she flopped back on the couch, head propped up on his thigh so her horns jutted out next to his arm.

“If you don’t move your head, I’m going to get speared,” he said. “Just scoot up. It’ll be more comfortable for the both of us. And minimal movement.” Nothing in his life seemed more obvious than such a solution to the problem. 

She giggled and scooted herself upward onto his lap, adding a gentle heat from her head. “A valid point. So you’re a--” she yawned and shut her eyes. “--a smart ass.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his own eyes. Sleep was a good idea, even if it was only debatably going to happen. “Only second to yourself,” he said.

It was the last thing he remembered saying before sleep finally overtook him.

                                                               ***

He wasn’t sure when he eventually woke up, just that the cotton from the previous day felt as if it had been violently ripped out from his forehead. And his mouth was...dry. Salivating felt impossible, even with the distinct smell of what had to be bacon from the kitchen a few rooms down. Bacon probably being cooked by Pallia...unless Aisral was actually out of her room for once.

Speaking of, the thoughts of the nights prior washed over his uncomfortable sobriety. And he had to sit and stew on the one realization he couldn’t push out of his mind any more. He wasn’t flush for Careen. He probably never would. But he did have a flush crush on the one troll he probably shouldn’t.

Dontoc had a flush crush on Pallia.

((Like what I write? Perchance purchase a portable potation for myself!))

#fantroll #fantrolls #fanfiction #homestuck #hiveswap #my writing #god this is long and rambly #but i wanted to get it done before rag and it is #technically #better version will end up on writscrib of course #dontoc #pallia