#if you enjoy putting eridan in dresses then by all means keep doing it

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

how do you feel about march eridan?

Ok disclaimer before I get into it, trolls wearing dresses = great and fantastic; in fact, given that the gender differences in troll culture are so much less significant, ALL the male trolls should own some femme-ass clothes, even if it's as simple as just having a skirt version of their pants, and it's a little lame that we didn't get that.

That said, March Eridan specifically kind of annoys me because it has 0 basis in canon (aside from some shoutouts in things like ministrife sprites) but has taken over Eridan discussions so wholly that it's become widely accepted as part of his character that he's really into femme stuff when the opposite is true, and he's got some pretty major characterization tied up in the fact that he does lean so masc, and what specific type of masc he tends to present as.

So first of all, Eridan dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and this is very obvious and straightforward; if you've read the big essay I have pinned to my blog, you know that this is all a part of his basic "I have to be a big bad sea dweller or Something Bad Will Happen" suite of issues.

Thus, we can ALSO assume that the choices he made that aren't made to emulate Dualscar are reflective of his ACTUAL taste in clothing. For example, blue pants instead of purple and black - I believe that this is because Eridan likes to dress up in the blood colors of his dates; he wears a lot of blue because he's hatedating Vriska (and never quite seems to get 100% over her), and we also see this in the rings on his fingers - half of which are fuchsia, for Feferi.

So that leaves us with the glasses, shoes, and scarf. And we know why he dresses like that! It's because he's a hipster. (The scarf has an added benefit of being associated with harry potter-style wizards).

CCG: PAST YOU, PRESENT YOU, FUTURE YOU CCG: AND ABOVE ALL, UGLY SCARFNECKED DOUCHEBAG HIPSTER YOU CCG: WAIT I FORGOT, ALL OF THE YOUS ARE THAT YOU

And very specifically, a masc hipster from the era - the glasses and the ugly-ass shoes are dead giveaways. The slicked-back hair is reminiscent of that fashion style, too. He is also a douchebag. This too is important. He draws from character archetypes of the time that were generally agreed upon to be the most punchable people in existence; his introduction calls him "KIND OF A TOOL" and he consistently acts according to that. Like, I mean, just LOOK at those shades. Those are not the shades of somebody you want to be trapped in a conversation with.

A fairly accurate Eridan fashion board would look something like this:

And, like, it kind of matters that he dresses like this specific breed of pretentious male douchebag; on a meta level, that's the impression he's supposed to give the audience, and on a diegetic level, he CHOOSES to look like this because he has these kinds of interests, but is relegating them to secondary accessories.

We never hear him talk about liking hipster shit; we have to hear it from Karkat and glean it from his design. This is because, as I've talked about before, he actively distances himself from things that make him happy, things that he'd enjoy. The constant push-pull between his ACTUAL interests, and the ones he thinks he has to have because he's supposed to be a big nasty sea dweller, is a huge part of his characterization - for example, the way he keeps claiming that magic and wizards are fake and shitty, but has no less than 6 wizard statues in his respiteblock alone, and cared about his crappy wands enough to bring them onto the meteor.

So that's one of my other issues with March Eridan and the general fanon that he'd be really into femme clothes (and, by extension, fashion) - he wouldn't be forthcoming about it, even if it was true. He has a deep sense of shame and insecurity surrounding what few interests he actually has, because they feel stupid, ridiculous, and frivolous, next to the intense anxiety he has about playing the role society gave him. He's got a very strong sense of duty that makes it very difficult for him to relax and actually enjoy something. Which, you know, probably feeds into his hipster-ness - a movement often defined more by what it doesn't approve of than what it does.

Canon Eridan, when he has a choice of what to wear, overwhelmingly chooses masculine clothing with hipster connotations. And this matters, it's part of his characterization, it says something about him, the same way that it's important that Karkat dresses very simply and baggily (we all know how many insecurities Karkat has about his body) or that Sollux's bifurcation is shown in his clothes. So please please please don't misunderstand my dislike of March Eridan as me saying I don't want him in dresses; I purely dislike it because it's usually SUCH a misread of his character.

And to prove it, here's my other gripe with March Eridan stuff: all the dresses shown in the not-canon "official" artworks don't even flatter his bodytype. Why do his custom mannequins in Pesterquest have CURVES when his Pesterquest sprite doesn't?????

Please, I'm begging you, there are guides for dressing this body type, and even historical fashions that deliberately try to emulate this body type, please if you're going to dress him femme and HC that he enjoys fashion, please put him in clothes that flatter him please

I think Eridan should own some femme clothes, because on Alternia, there are very few differences between the genders, he's rich enough to afford it, and he clearly has more of an interest in fashion in general - but I think the fact that he has a clear canon preference for masculine styles is significant, and I'm really annoying, so it kind of does bothers me that this is a controversial opinion. That being said, I don't want to tell people what they Should and Should Not do, because that's lame. Who cares. He's a fictional character, let people draw him in dresses. Would be very happy if this post causes people to draw him in different styles of dresses though :pray:

#I'm not going to tag this #because also people playing around with putting Eridan in dresses is 100% harmless #and i'm not going to ruin the fun by going But The Canon Says - #i'm just really really really annoying about canon and i kind of assume people follow me for that reason #but please dont let my annoyingness hamper your fun #if you enjoy putting eridan in dresses then by all means keep doing it #peace and love and rise above

[classpect-crew]

Hope and Rage: Narrative Engagement

I've talked quite a bit about Hope and Rage on this blog in the past, but I've stumbled upon something recently that I think puts a different spin on these two Aspects. I think it's quite fortunate we have a few different Classes to look at with regards to both Aspects, so I'll dive in with a quick summary of what I mean to get us started.

Hope and Rage are the Aspect pair that deals with emotions, belief, and one's range of options. However, they also represent something a bit more abstract: one's willingness to engage with a narrative. Now, this is something that applies if we're going with the interpretation that each Aspect also represents a concept in storytelling. (This is explained very well by both optimisticDuelist and Tex Talks on YouTube, both of whom you should absolutely check out if you haven't already.) What does this really mean, though? I argue that Hope represents getting sucked into a narrative and willingly embracing it, while Rage represents rejecting that narrative and actively mocking it. Hope is eulogy: Rage is satire.

In the comic, we see this most clearly in Jake, whose role as a Page of Hope pretty much dictates a strong relationship with his Aspect. He is theatrical and presents himself as someone who loves zany adventures and getting into scrums. When he speaks, he's like the unholy cross between an action film protagonist and a wealthy, antiquated gentleman. Later on in the story, we see counters to this narrative of who he is and what he truly enjoys. Jake seems to chew the scenery every time we see him, to the point of annoyance by others, and he seems to believe the spotlight is always focused on him. It's not necessarily out of pride, either, but rather his solitary lifestyle that gives him a sort of "protagonist complex," so to speak. All of this fits into what I've been describing: Jake is entrenched in his own narrative identity, built up from all the media he's consumed, and he embraces it as a way to escape from his current reality.

Heroes of Hope are empowered with the ability to affect their reality based on their own strong-held beliefs. It's the ultimate confidence in one's own abilities, taken to a ridiculous extreme. One of the most important themes of Homestuck is that each character is creating their own reality: Hope players do so in a very literal way. The stories they relate to and begin to live through start to impress themselves upon reality, and the players embrace it further. As long as their belief remains firm, this cycle continues.

We do see the very same theatrics and flamboyance in Eridan, who plays into his fantasies about killing the landdwellers. He engages with this aspect of Hope, just like Jake does. Yet, as the Prince of Hope, he also quite literally destroys the narrative set out for him when he begins his genocide of the angels on his planet. He later comes into conflict with the optimistic narrative of the other trolls, believing that their one way forward is to join Jack Noir. He then destroys the Matriorb in an attempt to tear apart the possibility of that story becoming reality. (Granted, he fails, because Life, uh, finds a way.) We also see the same traits in Cronus, though he has even stronger ties to Hope at the beginning of his own story. For much of his life, he fully believed in his own legacy, basically being Troll Harry Potter. Although he was convinced at some point to completely give up these beliefs, this was a big part of the narrative he wholeheartedly accepted. He now carries the perspective that he's "humankin," even dressing the part, and this new narrative has become what he engages with.

Now, Rage is a bit tougher to explain directly, since we don't have any Heroes of Rage who aren't a Destroyer Class, but we can still speculate based on what we know from the comic. Rage, broadly, is an Aspect that is drawn on when a character shows utter contempt for a narrative that's playing out. We see this extremely clearly when Caliborn is quite literally smashing around the terminal through which Hussie is speaking to him to explain his Quest, or his general frustrations at the idea that he must undertake a Hero's Journey, wishing to simply skip ahead to the point where he can fulfill his desire for power. We also see this during John's exploration of Homosuck, when Caliborn's unbelievably shitty storytelling and art skills lead John to express outright disgust and anger by the end.

When we look at a character like Gamzee, however, his relationship to this is a bit different. At the beginning of his story, he fully believes in the power of miracles and rejects other explanations for how everyday, mundane things happen, such as the fizz in sodas. He's absolutely indulging in a narrative as he allows the Rage in himself to melt away. As soon as the bubble bursts and Murderstuck begins, though, he stands once again on the razor's edge of his Aspect, but on the other side this time. He fully embraces his legacy of the mirthful messiahs being him (and also him) in a self-deifying way that seems to be toying with the protagonist complex of Hope, while also blaspheming his own religion in a way that echoes Rage. Gamzee begins to go off and do his own weird, bloody things. (Side note: the idea that Gamzee erupted into a fit of fury (Rage) when Dave showed him the ICP video where his religion (Hope) was being mocked (Rage) and seemed ready to start a one-man crusade (Hope) shows further how interlocked these opposites are in our resident Bard.)

I'll speak briefly on Kurloz, because I've got to keep things even, but dear lord, this is becoming quite long. Kurloz is obviously extremely faithful to the religion of his bloodline, even moreso than Gamzee at times, which leads to a humorous scene in one walkaround when Kurloz is attempting to show extreme reverence and speak in prose with Gamzee, who gets quickly fed up and cuts him off, all business. His dedication to Lord English is obvious, and he often seems to showcase more traits associated with Hope than Rage. Of course, this is intended in his role as a Prince, though his destruction of Hope is clearly seen in his ability to convince Cronus to give up his belief in his destiny to destroy Lord English.

To make a long story longer, Hope and Rage represent how one engages with their own story and the expectations placed on them by their role. Hope players embrace these wholeheartedly and seek to impress them onto reality, which rushes to meet them as their powers develop. Rage players reject and mock the reality that would box them in, laughing in the face of such audacity, and go off to do their own thing. It's a complete inverse from the Aspects' method of problem-solving, where Hope players tend toward open-mindedness and the ever-present Plan B, and Rage players limit their perspective to break through whatever obstacles dare to challenge them. Hope is Romanticism. Rage is Dadaism.

#classpect #classpect analysis #homestuck meta #hope #rage #jake english #eridan ampora #cronus ampora #gamzee makara #kurloz makara #wow i spent like two hours on this i think? am i crazy?

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

#oc #long post #homestuck #Enjoy!!!!!!!! maybe idk #they're all horrible peopl #who will one day get better... #if i ever fucking WRITE my fanadventure #or... the dream #manage to turn it into a fancomic with someone

[heystuckstuck]

humanstuck au headcanons

aradia is half italian, half black, with olive toned, light brown skin and dark brown eyes. she has long, curly brown hair that she does not brush or comb. she’s tall, about 5’10, and thin, with minimal curves, though she is not stick-thin. she often plays d&d with tavros, vriska and terezi. her closest friends are feferi and tavros, with whom she likes to larp and play videogames. she has an outstanding interest in archaeology and collects dead insect wings. she also dabbles in self-taught taxidermy. she’s odd, but fairly friendly, so she’s well-liked at school and amongst her friends. she lives with both of her parents and is an only child. her cousin damara lived with them through highschool, but the two of them didn’t get along very well. she has a sheepdog named frogger, who she takes on her adventures to potentially haunted places. 

tavros is mexican and has hesitant speech with a fairly heavy accent. he’s got tanned skin and dark brown hair styled into a fohawk and brown eyes. he’s got freckles scattered across his face and nose. he’s fairly small, standing at only about 5’6, and his chest is thin with a tiny amount of pudge collecting at his tummy. he also has fairly muscular arms, from after his accident, when he was wheelchair-bound. he, vriska, terezi,and aradia were in a car accident their freshman year, killing his mother and causing his legs to be amputated from the knee down. he has robotic prosthetics gifted to him by the members of his school’s robotics club. he is very interested in disney, particularly peter pan, pokemon, and likes to watch anime. his best friends are aradia and nepeta. he also has a service/emotional support dog, a pomeranian named tinkerbell. he’s also vegetarian. 

sollux is half korean, half swedish and has both heterochromia and a lisp. he doesn’t show much of the swedish side at all, with his olive toned skin and black hair, which he keeps fairly shaggy. he doesn’t like to cut it. his twin sister is nepeta, but he doesn’t spend a ton of time with her. his closest friends are karkat and feferi, who he sort of both hates and loves simultaneously. he has bipolar disorder and forgets his medication fairly frequently, despite leaving post-it’s all over the house to help him remember. he likes to play video games and code things and he’s pretty good at it, which is a fact he doesn’t let people forget. he’s tall, 6’0, and very skinny because his diet consists of coffee and cheetos for the most part. he has debilitating migraines and a tendency to have somewhat prophetic dreams, so anytime he has a nightmare, he feels paranoid beyond all belief. 

karkat is half indian, half greek, which evens out his skin tone so he’s in between light and dark skinned. his eyes are hazel and he has thick, heavy eyebrows. he actually has a very pleasant looking face, appearing very approachable until he opens his mouth. he has a very grating sense of humor, which tends to hurt people’s feelings, but he doesn’t really mean any of the harsh things he says. he enjoys watching romcoms and helps his girlfriends paint their nails and braid their hair and does so with only a traditional karkat grumble of it being too much effort, not that it’s emasculating. his closest friends are dave and sollux, which he would never admit because he is too busy pretending that he hates their guts. he considers himself the leader of their friend group and so does everyone else, relying on him for begrudging advice and tough love, despite really being a softie underneath it all. he’s fairly tall as well, 6’0, but pretty thick and slightly muscular. he doesn’t work out a ton, just enough to keep himself toned. he is the only other person to join nepeta and equius in their daily gym routine. 

nepeta is sollux’s twin sister, so she is also half swedish and half korean. they are fraternal twins and she picked up all of the swedish genes. all of them. so many swedish genes. she’s fairly small in stature, barely scraping 5’4 and has short, honey blonde hair and blue-green eyes and thin lips. she also had a cleft palate when she was younger and has a scar on her upper lip from getting it fixed. she’s very muscular and tough, and extremely strong despite her small size. she has a full six pack. her closest friends are equius and tavros. for the most part, she spends her time with equius working out and arguing and utilizes her time spent with tavros to practice her other hobbies, like larping and d&d. she has a pet cat that she named pounce de leon and she takes her for walks, which she enjoys. 

kanaya is armenian and originally from england, and so has an accent. she has short ink-black hair and hazel eyes bordering on the green side. she is very elegant and wears a full face of makeup everyday, with dark lipstick ranging in tone from ruby to emerald to black sometimes. she likes to practice her makeup skills on her friends, including the boys, which, excluding eridan, will not let her. she is a lesbian and is out and fairly proud of her identity. her mother is a fashion designer and kanaya is following fast in her footsteps. she enjoys spending her time gardening and reading erotic vampire romance novels, which she shares with karkat. her closest friends are karkat and vriska, both of whom she fusses over and drives them absolutely crazy. she has a penchant for knitting and gives her friends homemade scarves for christmas every year. it’s a tradition. she’s fairly bottom heavy with curvy hips and a small chest, which brings her great embarrassment. she also has very long legs and is quite tall, standing at about 6’1. 

terezi is korean and adopted by her mother’s friend. this friend happens to be the mother of the person she has dubbed her scourge sister, vriska. terezi is slight and made of all angles and bones and stands at 5’7. she wishes she was taller, because she’d be a more threatening presence that way. she has braces, always with bands colored teal and red. she has black hair and dark brown eyes and is so thin because she exists on a diet of sugary snacks and that alone. she’s the captain of the school’s debate team because she refuses to admit defeat. she has an albino ferret called chief deputy pyralspite, which serves as the mascot of the debate team. her best friends are karkat and sollux, who she consistently harasses and refuses to leave alone. her hobbies include mock trials, eating fruit snacks, and searching abandoned buildings with aradia, in the hopes of catching a spook. she thinks it would be fun. 

vriska is 6’2 and thin. not quite as thin as terezi but she’s still very angular. she has long blonde hair that she dyes blue at the ends with kool-aid and dresses in baggy flannels and t-shirts that do nothing for her. she’s of swedish descent and looks it, with her extremely pale skin and hair. she’s adopted sisters with terezi and latula and the younger sister of aranea. things get more complicated when you throw in her step brothers, eridan and cronus. her mother married their dad when she was in 7th grade and she’s been spitefully teasing eridan ever since. she’s lanky and awkwardly built and doesn’t have much charm about her but makes up for it by meddling with her friends. she lost and eye and her arm in the car accident she was in freshman year and sometimes she thinks her left arm still itches. it doesn’t cause it no longer exists. her closes at friends are tavros and kanaya, who she likes to mess with. she likes spiders and creepy crawlies and often can be found begrudgingly helping aradia find them. 

equius is tall and exceptionally broad at 6’4. he has long hair that he wears down all the time despite his tendency to sweat and really likes horses. he really likes them. he works out daily with or without nepeta, and defends her daily. he’s odd and people find him vaguely off-putting more often than not. he has a weird obsession with gamzee that nepeta insists is a crush. his best friends are nepeta and gamzee, despite his inability to either take it easy or smoke weed. he finds most of his friends to be bothersome but he likes them anyway. he’s native american and has black hair and eyes that are bordering on black as well. 

gamzee is a stoner. he’s exceptionally tall, 6’7, and very very thin, despite constantly eating. he’s dark skinned with vitiligo and tends to have a slow reaction time. he’s weird but he’s so nice that everyone likes him except his friends, who sort of hate and love him at the same time. his attempts to learn to ride the unicycle have all ended in failure but he is determined. his best friends are tavros, who raps with him, and karkat, who pretends to be unable to stand him. he has wild messy hair and giant hands. he’s a juggalo and listens to icp and loves them, despite being nonviolent. 

eridan is from australia and has a watered down aussie accent that he tries to make as english sounding as possible. he’s on the swim team with feferi and has thick muscles and a broad chest. he’s 6’3 and actually very handsome, with an angular face and a sharp nose. he wears huge glasses and dyes a chunk of the front of his hair blonde, which offsets his attractiveness. his hair is medium brown and his eyes are a bright shade of hazel. he’s half indian, half white and so his skin is deep medium brown and covered with soft freckles that he is embarrassed about. he loves history class and is also on the debate team and is the only person who can even come close to arguing terezi down. he enjoys watching war documentaries and actually appreciates historical musicals (exhibit a: fiddler on the roof). he enjoys all of his friends, despite pretending not to, and he will participate in all of their hobbies with them. he often comes across as pretentious but has been dialed back a lot by the teasing of his friends. his closest friends are feferi and karkat. 

feferi is hawaiian. that’s all. just kidding. she has long curly hair and bright brown eyes. she’s in show choir and on the swim team and the class president and nobody knows how she manages to balance all of them. she’s thick and muscular, about 5’10 and bubbly very consistently. she is one of the few who is rarely annoyed by her friends. she enjoys swimming, exploring and actually quite enjoys playing games with her friends. her closest friends are eridan and sollux who don’t get along very often and constantly bicker despite caring for each other a lot

john has pale skin and black hair and the bluest eyes ever. he’s got a lopsided smile that he wears almost all the time, with those goofy too-big teeth. jade is his older half-sister, with whom he shares a father. he enjoys terrible movies and pulling pranks on all of his friends. no one is safe. he’s known for always joking and never really being serious, unless it’s about whatever movie he’s most recently watched. he’s never seen a movie he didn’t like, with the exception of every movie that karkat likes, mostly to irk him. his closest friends are dave and karkat and he spends most of his time with them. he’s the proud owner of a small golden cocker spaniel named casey. he’s 5’11 and fairly trim due to his fast metabolism. 

jade is john’s older half-sister. they share the same father, who is white, but her mother is a pacific islander. she was raised by her mother until the age of ten, when she passed away. she then moved in with her dad and half-brother, john. jade has long, dark hair and deep hazel eyes. she’s tall and fit from years of adventuring. she often goes barefoot and has very calloused feet and hands. she enjoys gardening and has a strong love for animals. her closest friends are tavros and feferi. she’s tal, 6’0, taller than john, which bothers him, of course. she was gifted a white german shepherd named bequerel for her thirteenth birthday. 

dave is tall, 6’2,  lanky and pale with little muscle mass to be found. he’s not albino and has light blonde hair and reddish brown eyes. he spends most of his free time mixing songs that he shows to no one. he explores haunted places with aradia and they share a mutual fondness for dead things. more than anything else, he enjoys giving his friends a hard time. he enjoys swords and takes up boxing his freshman year, which he’s surprisingly good at. he joined the debate team with terezi purely for shits and giggles but ended up enjoying it far more than he expected. he’s the proud owner of a pug dubbed “the mayor of can town” and a white german shepherd named maplehoof, who is beq’s littermate. 

rose is shorter than her twin brother, standing at only 5’2. she makes up for her lack of height in sarcastic and analytical spirit however, and patronizes all of her friends to the point that they don’t even know if she likes them or not. she does. she has short blonde hair and a  pinched face with thin lips and large eyes. she’s a proud lesbian and is very open about her sexuality. she enjoys reading and actually gardens with jade and kanaya a lot of the time. she’s an enthusiastic knitter, her specialty being sweaters, which she makes for her friends and siblings. she has a sturdy tuxedo cat called jaspers and she likes him but also doesn’t at the same time. 

#humanstuck #aradia megido #tavros nitram #sollux captor #karkat vantas #nepeta leijon #kanaya maryam #terezi pyrope #vriska serket #equius zahaak #gamzee makara #eridan ampora #feferi peixes #john egbert #jade harley #dave strider #rose lalonde #humanstuck headcanons #homestuck #homestuck headcanons

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever: The Weakest, Of the Gods

WIP Fic Friday is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output. I missed last week... oops. This is from the “The Gods Have Horns” setting. Warning: Eye-related horror.

You always thought you were, kind of, the weakest of the gods. Not because Breath is like, a shitty aspect, but more because you never really went that high up the god tiers, and Pages are like, supposed to have further to go, than most.

You don’t mind that much, though. You don’t need lots of flashy powers to enjoy life.

You wander. You fly. You sometimes accidentally run into other gods, or hear them calling your name from afar. You rarely answer them. Generally speaking, other trolls have not been kind to you, and you much prefer the company of beasts. All of you turning into immortals with robes and wings and shiznasty powers has not changed that basic fact.

You don’t hang around the aliens much, either. You might stumble upon some accidentally, if they’re in that span of time between when they start talking, and when they start building cities. But you don’t stick around long. After locals spot you, they tend to say your name, for thousands of years afterward. It’s a little annoying.

So, you find worlds of animals. Worlds upon worlds where only animals walk, where nobody splits the air with speech. You’re not all that lonely. You tell yourself you’re happy.

(You can hear Eridan calling your name sometimes. You don’t ever say his.)

You are reclining under a tree in the moonlight on a vast savannah, listening to chirping night-critters, writing beat poetry, in your head, to their songs. Then you see the lights, moving above.

A spaceship.

You are not afraid, but you are cautious, and disappointed. You’d rather that a star-faring civilization not colonize this world. It’s always a pain, to have to find a new planet to live.

The starship, which is truly enormous, comes to ground, and you know, even before it lands, that it’s not a regular alien ship.

It’s purple, for one, and bedecked in banners and streamers and flags. Those sorts of decorations, you’re pretty sure, don’t usually survive on spaceships. They burn up, or something.

And you recognize the sigil, on the banners. The aspect of Rage.

You haven’t seen Gamzee in, well, probably eons, but you don’t really keep track of time anymore. He stopped calling your name, after only a few years, when you first split off from the rest.

You’re pretty sure, he doesn’t miss you, anymore.

You’re not sure, if you ever missed him.

Aliens are coming out of the spaceship now, opening up the sides. They are all sorts of different aliens, many you’ve never seen before.

The spaceship unfolds like an intricate paper sculpture, inflating into a tremendously giant tent. There’s a carpet rolling out along the ground, and out of the tent steps-

Whoa, he’s huge.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You all can basically look however you want, now, within trollish reason. Like, you can have working legs, when you want, which you usually do. Also, you can look more like an adult, if you want, but you usually don’t like to. You like the way you feel, when you look young.

But Gamzee must be, eight feet tall, at least, not counting the horns. He’s wearing a black and purple vest and a fancy coat, striped pants and heavy boots. You can’t see his face clearly from under your tree, but you’re certain he’s still wearing his subjugglator paint.

You should go greet him, right? Maybe you can convince him to leave this planet alone, for whatever it is he’s doing. But he’s all dressed up and you’re basically just wearing your godhood. You quickly try to make yourself presentable, dredging an old hat with a feather in it out of your sylladex, even though the green clashes. You wish you had some real pants.

You feel kind of silly, for being nervous. It’s just, Gamzee, right?

Gamzee is talking with one of the aliens, but he looks up as you approach. And yes, it’s still Gamzee, he still has that lazy, satisfied expression, though his purple eyes have a degree of intensity you don’t remember being there before.

“Tavros,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your horns vibrate. “And there I thought you’d up and died ages ago, brother. Miracle.”

“Uh,” you reply. “No, I’m alive. I’ve been alive, this whole time. I think.”

“None of us had our knowing on about that there thing what you said.”

You feel a little bad, now. You might have told them you were alive, at least. When you speak, your tone is a little defensive. “I’ve been, exploring. And, communing with the animals. It’s peaceful, out here. And no one, judges me.”

Gamzee’s painted brows crease, but then he smiles. “Brother, why don’t you come inside? See my ring?”

“Uh, sure?”

You follow him behind a curtain, and into his ship. Inside it’s purple, and shadowy, and it smells bitter and musky. You can see aliens of various shapes and sizes running around, through curtains and around mirrors. You can hear distant screaming, or maybe it’s laughing? Maybe it’s applause. The air is full of smoke. By the time Gamzee and you reach your destination, your eyes are watering.

It’s the very top of the tent, a wide balcony from which Gamzee can look over the rings being set up, and the savannah stretching to the horizon.

There’s an alien there, its face painted in black and white, and Gamzee waves a hand at it. “fuck off.”

It fucks off.

Gamzee settles himself in a chair that looks more like a throne, and you are amazed at how easily he fits there, fits here, now naturally he seems to take up divinity. Not a hint of uncertainty, not a pause of hesitation. Every inch a god.

You’re almost envious.

“Lots to do here, brother,” he says. “We meet in a time of miracle and wonder.”

“What are you here to do?” you ask.

“Spread the mirthful word, my brother. Ain’t been a whole planet devoted to the Carnival, not yet.” He smiles lazily, and maybe there are a few more teeth in the grin, this time. “High time for there to getting been done.”

“The whole planet?” You can’t keep the surprise from your voice. “Not just, like, one city?”

“Naw, brother, got to think bigger than that. Nothing but tents and rings and sideshows and freaks, far as your motherfucking ganderbulbs can see and then more.” Gamzee gets up from the throne and walks up to the edge of the balcony, resting his arms on the railing. Then, he turns.

“But enough all and about me, my invertebro! What is all up and happening with you?”

“Gamzee, I… That’s all, very nice, and all, but I’m not sure that’s all, a good idea? Turning the planet, into one big, um, circus?”

Gamzee frowns, and, for a moment, narrows his eyes at you. You take a step back.

Then, he’s smiling again. “Brother I know we ain’t got our squawk on in millions of sweeps and all, so you don’t got it in your pan that I got my motherfucking understand on what all this is about you dig?”

“W-what?”

“Rage, brother. You even know what Rage is all about?”

“Not, um. Really. I mean, I know it means, being angry, but it’s probably more than that, because Breath is about more than, you know, breathing.”

“What’s Breath about?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I want you to get me all up in the schoolfeeding, Tavbro. What’s your motherfucking aspect all getting itself about?”

Breath… you know what it is. You know it in your core, like the sigil has been branded into your thinkpan, which is probably has, now that you think of it. Breath is freedom. Unfetteredness. The feeling of responsibilities being shed, of being light as air, of being held accountable for nothing.

You think you’ve done a pretty good job of being Breath.

“Freedom,” you say, eventually, uncertainly. “Breath is freedom?”

Gamzee laughs. You don’t see what is so funny.

“Aw, brother, I’m all about that too!”

“Huh?”

Gamzee leans forward, and his voice quiets. “Rage, brother. Rage is the hole what’s left when freedom’s gone. Rage is the thing in your thinkpan that makes you stop. Makes you hesitate. And I kill that. I MOTHERFUCKING KILL THAT!”

You jump at the change in volume, then feel immediately sheepish.

“Aw, Tavbro, don’t be all scared. It’s all good and miraculous that every single one of my motherfucking followers has all their Rage gone. Would be a better motherfucking world if everyone just said what’s on their motherfucking mind and did what they motherfucking wanted. Freedom. Brother, don’t you agree?”

You swallow. “Uh, I’m not sure I understand. I thought you were a, Bard? You don’t destroy, directly, right?”

He shakes his head. “Naw, brother. But it goes and shrivels and dies all on its own. Here, I’ll up and show you.”

He turns, and looks out at the savannah. The animals have never seen aliens before. They only look up curiously, don’t run, as Gamzee’s followers set up the circus.

He points. “See that motherfucker over there?” You go up and look. It’s one of Gamzee’s followers, a funny looking red alien with four arms. “He’s been wanting to try something but ain’t letting himself do it. And that ain’t no way to be thinking in my Carnival.”

Gamzee looks at you, and smiles, mouth friendly and eyes hard. “Don’t want none of that in my Carnival, brother.”

The red alien, who had been focused on erecting a large pole, turns to a brown furry alien next to him. And without hesitating a moment, he reaches up and rips out the furry alien’s eye.

And eats it.

You don’t watch the rest.

“I think that’s kind of sick.” you manage to say, eventually. “Did you, make him, do that?”

Gamzee actually looks confused. “It’s freedom, brother. It’s only what he wanted all and up to do, all in real life like.”

He must see the distress in your expression, because he then follows that up with: “We do the same thing, Tavbro.”

“No, I,” you don’t know what to say. He’s going to make your planet (you can’t help but think of it as yours), your whole planet, be like that? Without restraint or empathy or kindness? “I don’t think it’s the same thing at all.”

Gamzee frowns, then just as quickly smiles again. “Sure thing bro. We don’t gotta work together, though it’d all make me as happy as motherfuck if we up and did.”

He turns to look at the view again. “You can still up and stay if you wanna get your watch on, my brother. Or go on chilling with the birds and bees if that’s what speaks to you and all.”

“Gamzee,” you say, after a moment. “Can you, um. Use a different planet, maybe? I kind of, like this one?”

He looks at you, sidelong, and says nothing.

“Like, I like it, how it is? Not made into… a carnival…” You trail off.

“This is a good planet for a Carnival, bro. Not like you were up and using it.”

“Gamzee, don’t- I was kind of, living here-”

“IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WROTE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING NAME ON IT!”

Gamzee whirls, and his appearance is transformed. His fangs are bared, expression furious, and the scleras of his eyes look more orange than yellow.

“Tavbro, you ran, you can’t claim nothing. NOT MOTHERFUCKING NOTHING. Ain’t even acting a real god, just running around playing like you’re STILL A MOTHERFUCKING KID. This planet is MOTHERFUCKING MINE, brother. Can’t claim NOTHING. And I. Am going. TO DESTROY THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLANET. And there ain’t nothing you’re gonna do about it, are you?”

You sit down. Hard. You are sitting in a four-wheel device. You didn’t realize you still had one. You’re not sure if you can move your legs, actually. Or feel them.

“Didn’t motherfucking think so.”

Gamzee turns, to look back at the Carnival. And you…

You can feel it. The animals. Ripping into each other. Killing mates, killing young, predators going mad, fear-aggression spiking into suicidal terror…

He’s wiping out the whole planet.

Your planet.

By now, your communing abilities are highly developed. You’re more powerful than the Summoner, more powerful than any mortal troll could ever have been.

But when you reach out to get the animals to stop, you can’t. Divine power trumps psionics, you guess.

You have divine power. You are the Page of Breath. The Page to Breath. But if this is freedom… what does Breath want from you? You wish you were a Seer.

But you’re no Seer. Barely even a Page. You’re sitting there in your chair like a fool. The clown made a fool of you.

For a moment, you think you might hate him. Then you realize, no, you just want to be free of him. You just want-

And that’s when you get it. You really, actually get it.

“Gamzee,” you say slowly. “I think, there might be, two kinds of freedom.”

“What the motherfuck are you talking about?” he rumbles.

“Yeah, there is… there is freedom to. That’s your kind of freedom. But I think my kind of freedom is freedom from. Which is different. So that’s, I think, what I’m going to do.”

You Breathe.

And they are free.

All of them. The animals, the followers. Free of their burdens. They are free now, of Gamzee. They can do what they want to, really want to, and not just reflexively enact their most base impulses.

You can hear cheering, from below. Or maybe screaming. Maybe applause.

“What the fuck did you do!” roars Gamzee, turning on you.

You stand up. The chair is gone. You do not need to be afraid of him. You are free of your fear.

You spread your wings.

“I think, I’m doing, what I need to do,” you say. “Which is, to say, stop you.”

The wind whistles, and-

------

It is the first time, but not the last, you fight another god openly.

It is the first time, but not the last, you really felt divine.

------

Your planet, at least, died free.

#wip fic #fanfic extra #homestuck #fanfiction #my fic #gamzee #tavros #godstuck