thegodshavehorns

[thegodshavehorns]

hey guys what are your favorite planets?

AA: there will be a l0st planet, flung free fr0m its star, spinning f0rever in the endless star-spangled night. it will have 0nce held a thriving civilizati0n, which will die 0ut with a tender sl0wness. its atm0sphere and 0ceans will freeze, until 0nly its well-insulated c0re h0lds any heat. there will be pe0ple there, still, living 0ff that heat deep in the crust, praying. it will be beautiful.

AT: i SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THIS GREAT PLANET OUT IN THE… uH, i THINK YOU HUMANS DON’T HAVE A NAME FOR IT… iT’S SEVERAL TENS OF MILLIONS OF LIGHT YEARS AWAY, uH, aNYWAY, iT’S NICE, i LIKE CAMPING OUT UNDER THE MYCELIAL TREES AND LISTENING TO THE LIZARDS SING ME TO SLEEP AS THE SUN RISES, tHEN AT NIGHT I ROAST SOME JUICY WORMS OVER THE FIRE AND JUST WATCH THE LIGHTS OF THE AURORA ORIENTALIS, sOMETIMES I INVITE A FRIEND FROM AMONGST THE LOCALS AND WE TELL STORIES AND FLY AROUND, iT’S NICE,

TA: anywhere wiith wii-fii ii2 good enough.

CG: I HATE THEM ALL EQUALLY. I’D SPEND ALL MY TIME IN THE INTERGALACTIC VOID, BUT I HATE OUTER SPACE JUST AS MUCH.

AC: :33 would you believe i can’t remember the planet’s name? i had a lot of fun there, though! the people there had this fascinating romance system where each purrson was flushed with two other people, who were also flushed with another shared purrson, making a square. And they were pale on the diagonal. i introduced the concept of blackrom to them, and it was purrfect chaos. >:33

GA: It Is Impossible To Choose Just One. Every Planet Is Unique, Precious, And Delicate. Like A Shard Of Crystalized Precipitate.

GC: M4RS.

AG: It’s called “Areani”, and it’s got a diamond in its center that’s 8igger than two Earths! It’s mine, of course. Won it in a game of craps. ::::)

CT: ▉▉▉▉▉.

TC: AnY sPoT tO cRaSh Is GoOd, InSeCtIsIbLiNg. I bRiNg My FaVoRiTe PlAcE wItH mE. :o)

CA: planets are planets, and people are people. all places tend to blur together ovver time. that’s just as true for the others, too, though they don’t wwant to admit it.

CC: You probably t)(ink I'd say Kepler 195-4, or some ot)(er planet wit)( only oceans, but my favorite was actually K2-219-5 because it )(ad so many islands! Islands are definitely t)(e best. I liked it so muc)( I actually settled t)(ere for a w)(ile, before we all came to -Eart)(. Too bad it's gone now.

#homestuck #homestuck au #godstuck #ask godstuck #the gods have horns #aradia megido #tavros nitram #sollux captor #karkat vantas #nepeta leijon #kanaya maryam #terezi pyrope #equius zahhak #gamzee makara #eridan ampora #feferi peixes

[thegodshavehorns]

OOC.

so Equius's heir of void powers went overboard leading him to be an antimemeitc field or walking black hole.

((It's slightly more complex than that, but you're on the right track.))

((Consider: What could "Do the Void-y thing" mean?))

#godstuck #homestuck #homestuck au #ask godstuck #equius zahaak

[thegodshavehorns]

hello Nepeta do you still see Equius?

AC: :33 You're a cruel one, aren't you? AC: :33 Where did you even learn that name? AC: ... AC: 33: We do not speak of him anymore. AC: 33: He nefur arrived in the unifurs we all made, and nefur became a god. AC: 33: Happy, now?

#godstuck #homestuck au #ask godstuck #homestuck #the gods have horns #nepeta leijon

[thegodshavehorns]

Apologies for all the off-topic posts lately.

There was an issue that seemed to be routing all the posts I was trying to make to a personal blog to this one instead. Now it is resolved. Thank you for you patience.

#mod post

[thegodshavehorns]

Hi Vriska! I wanted to know how it was when you and Rose were getting closer- when did you realize you had a palecrush? How long did it take you to put your pale seduction plan into action? How often do you get to visit her?

AG: Oh, it wasn’t something I intended from the get-go. I mean, I liked her spunk and gall, 8ut I don’t just go around with a crush on every mortal who dares look me in the eye. That would 8e really stupid!!!!!!!!

AG: I was originally hoping to turn her against Eridan. Or ruin her so she wouldn’t 8e useful to him anymore.

AG: 8ut then our mind-games started turning into

AG: a real feelings jam.

AG: She pro8a8ly had no idea, 8ut it was a classic way to 8uild a pale relationship. I didn’t want to get involved, though. I meant to keep her at an arm’s length, 8ut I was aware of that pale spark early on.

AG: Then we 8oth learned she was eventually going to ascend, so……..

AG: Suddenly it didn’t seem that 8ad, to give in to it.

AG: 8ecause she’d be a goddess soon, too

AG: As for the ‘pale seduction’, that was kind of… One night I just lost patience and wanted to do it. So I did it. Not much of a plan, ha ha.

AG: I visited her that summer as often as I could. At least once a week.

AG: Then Eridan started up teaching her again in Li8ra, and we had to switch to long distance. Them’s the 8r8ks!

#godstuck #homestuck au #ask godstuck #homestuck #the gods have horns #vriska serket

[thegodshavehorns]

Hi Tavros! I heard what happened when you decided to flee the slaves, what Vriska did to help you. Karkat seemed really angry about the whole thing :( how long did it take before you were able to be cordial with him? Or are you still not on good terms?

AT: iT, uM, tOOK A WHILE, hEH, wE’RE ON PRETTY GOOD TERMS NOW, tHOUGH, i’VE FOUND KARKAT DOESN’T HOLD GRUDGES, aLL THAT LONG, iT JUST TOOK, aBOUT A MILLENNIUM, aND HE LET IT GO,

AT: wE’RE, aCTUALLY, wORKING ON PROJECTS TOGETHER, nOW

AT: i FREE HIS FELLOWS, wHEN THEY GET ARRESTED DOING BLOOD STUFF

AT: mOSTLY NOT ON EARTH, sO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE HEARD ABOUT IT }X)

AT: bUT SOMETIMES, hE BRINGS IT UP, tO TRY AND MAKE ME FEEL GUILTY, aND DO FAVORS FOR HIM,

AT: i CAN LAUGH IT OFF NOW, tHOUGH, bECAUSE, i MADE IT UP TO HIM ALREADY

#godstuck #homestuck #homestuck au #the gods have horns #tavros nitram #ask godstuck

[thegodshavehorns]

Hi aradia! Im really worried about you. You seem so lonely, and so very far away from the rest of the gods. Do you miss them? I know you have tea with nepeta, but what about the rest?

AA: it is hard t0 miss them. i am always nearby.

AA: if they w0uld like t0 speak with me, i can make time.

AA: i am n0t al0ne by ch0ice, but because the 0thers find my presence unsettling.

AA: i am t0 them what they are t0 m0rtals such as y0urself: a representati0n 0f a p0wer bey0nd themselves, even if n0t that p0wer itself.

AA: even nepeta reaches 0ut t0 me 0nly because she blames herself f0r my nature.

AA: but d0 n0t w0rry f0r me. i am n0t l0nely.

AA: i always have myself.

#homestuck #homestuck au #godstuck #the gods have horns #ask godstuck #aradia megido

[thegodshavehorns]

Hi Jade! What was it like being raised by gods?

GG: It’s great! 

GG: But I mean, I don’t really know how to compare it to anything else? I mean I feel really lucky, since they can get me anything I need and I don’t like, starve! It would be really hard if I only had my garden and fishing for food… and clothes… and how would I fix my machines??

GG: I don’t know how I’d get by without them.

GG: They’re great fun, too. When they’re around and stuff.

GG: I’m gonna miss them.

#the gods have horns #homestuck #godstuck #homestuck au #jade harley #ask godstuck

[thegodshavehorns]

Hi Eridan! Do you ever have nightmares about the game? About how you became a god? Do you wish youd gotten to grow up a bit more first?

CA: nightmares?

CA: i havve more nightmares about my mortal life than about the game. and stress dreams about evverything that’s happened since.

CA: that’s not to say i nevver dream of it. there wwas one part in particular my subconscious mind likes to torment me wwith. there’s a mistake i made, that i shouldn’t havve.

CA: but i’m glad i played the game wwhen i did. better to rip that wwound patch off sooner than later.

#homestuck #the gods have horns #godstuck #homestuck au #ask godstuck #eridan ampora

[thegodshavehorns]

Ask Godstuck Characters!

Any characters, living or dead, from any of the stories in The Gods Have Horns may be addressed. Go to "Ask Us" for more!

#mod post #ask godstuck #homestuck #homestuck au #godstuck #the gods have horns

[thegodshavehorns]

1. Show with an ensemble cast that pre-emptively torpedoes the most obvious ship dynamics by establishing that everybody in the core cast has previously dated – and subsequently broken up with – basically everybody else in the core cast, and by the timeframe of the show's events, everybody is everybody else's ex.

2. Show with an ensemble cast that deliberately confuses the most obvious ship dynamics by constantly implying that everybody in the core cast is currently dating one or more other members of the core cast in a way that's totally inconsistent from episode to episode, and refusing to clarify whether it's a polycule situation or whether they're just constantly breaking up and getting back together or what.

#prokopetz #godstuck #shipping #yeah that tracks

[thegodshavehorns]

The first one up and vanished, just forget I mentioned him

And the second just made others live and die however the hell she wanted

Third one is a mirthful clown who laughed at his own blood

And the fourth knows that we're just machines but doesn't have the eyes to see us scream

The fifth supports little girls and boys – but forgets when they grow up

The sixth one is corrupted by every filthy heart she touches

Seventh never cries or feels, efficiency is all

And the eighth gets anything she wants, gold and slaves, the world and everything

This life is a game played by a circle of gods

They don't care for your life

Try to escape

But you know the path you're on is already set

See how the game of sburb is playing all of us for fools Weaving fate around us, making all these silly rules See how the timeline loops, trapping us all in this show Load it up and let's see which head will roll...

The ninth knows better than to fix us when we're so full of lies

The tenth one is a preacher, knows us f***asses are all so useless

Next one, the eleventh, won't forget you when you die

The twelfth finds the light in the dark but has long since stopped asking why

The things that this game can do, they're so crazy Deciding everyday Try to escape but the timeline loops and keeps you here to stay See how the game of sburb is never won, you only play Reject it and you'll always find you're doomed and thrown away Clinging to your fate and blame it whenever life won't go your way Such a laugh, ha! Life is just a game

Will your death be judged as heroic

or maybe justly deserved Try to play it Why not try your luck and see what you may get? See how the game of sburb is playing all of us for fools Weaving fate around us, making all these silly rules See how the timeline loops, trapping us all in this show Load it up and let's see which head will roll... Skaia glowing downward, visions dancing in the clouds An illuminated chessboard, "Ah, yes, this is paradise." Fighting black and white but the end is already known Ah, look down at all the pieces here Ah, look up at all the god tiers.

#godstuck #godstuck au #song #game of sburb #homestuck #music

[thegodshavehorns]

Into Thin Air (4/4)

Chapter 4: Without Reason

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you're used to waking up to drunk texts, meaningless encoded notes and scribbles, Rose cuddled up to you, puddles of vomit, and combinations of any and all of the above. Sometimes, you wake up to your skull feeling like it's going to crack open, or to half-forgotten dreams of impenetrable darkness. Once or twice, you've woken to weird bruises on your hands that you can't recall the origins of.

"Rose sweetie, Mom has a hangover," you groan, but school is school and missed busses are missed busses, so you splash water on your face, force down a bit of toast and coffee, and drive your daughter to class.

After the whirlwind of rushing about preparing for the day, you revisit the texts, frowning and squinting at the picture. John, smiling, wearing an adorable dinosaur onesie, surrounded by birthday presents. Not a clown in sight.

You've never known yourself to straight-up _hallucinate _while drunk. Certainly not to hallucinate purple clowns. That's definitely new. You type an apology to Stan, to which he doesn't respond. He may be still asleep, given the time difference.

Anyway, it's time to get to work. You go down to the lab and troubleshoot for a few hours, then take your habitual martini break. Looks like Stan has messaged you back.

I ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY, ROXY. I KNOW YOU ARE NOT ALWAYS IN CONTROL OF YOURSELF WHEN YOU ARE IN A STATE. BUT YOU MUST REALIZE HOW ALARMING IT IS TO HEAR ABOUT CLOWNS FOR SOMEONE IN OUR SITUATION.

You text back, sipping your glass absently.

Because of the gods?

YES. THE IDEA THAT THE

THAT ONE, IN PARTICULAR, IS TARGETING US, IS

TO BE HONEST, 'ALARMING' IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT.

He hardly ever drops off mid-sentence like that. Poor Stan.

I understand. Hes not exactly my cuppa, either.

Speaking of cuppas, it's time to mix yourself another martini.

I'm sory I scared you.

You scroll up to look at the picture of John again. Maybe you should show it to Rose. Wouldn't it be sweet if they could be pen pals? There's something funny about it again, though. You're not quite sure what. Isn't there something purple-ish on the walls? Maybe not clowns, but... something similar to clowns?

YOU ARE FORGIVEN. ARE YOU DRINKING AGAIN?

lol a little. hey are u SURE there are no clowns in your kids rom?

THIS IS REALLY NOT FUNNY ANYMORE, ROXY.

As you take a sip and download the picture, something hazy and strange occurs to you.

could you take another pic of the kids wall? i need to test somethnig

No reply from the other end.

i mean it this is impoortna.

I WISH YOU WOULD STOP DRINKING.

i have my bsest ideas when im drunking.

As you wait for a reply, you squint your eyes at the picture. John. Presents. Onesie. And a certain undeniable clownishness to the walls that you were absolutely sure wasn't there before.

Miraculously, Stan has sent you more pictures. Pictures of the walls, taken apparently from several angles.

They all still give you a clowny feeling, one that's getting stronger with every sip of your martini. You pour yourself a straight shot of vodka, then down it in one. For science.

Every wall of the room is covered in horrible purple clowns.

You have to put the phone down and take a breath. What is this? You giggle. This isn't funny but you giggle.

clnwns everrywere. sencd mor picsf f rooms.

ROXY, IN GOOD CONSCIENCE I SHOULD ASK YOU TO LIE DOWN. IT'S TOO EARLY IN THE DAY FOR THIS.

mor picx stanny

I WON'T ENABLE THIS. IF YOU WANT MORE PICTURES WHEN YOU SOBER UP, I WILL SEND THEM.

You frown at the phone, and continue texting. Why won't he help you with this? There are clowns, awful clowns, all over the walls of his kid's room - isn't that important? You only see them when you're drunk, which maybe means Stan doesn't drink enough to see them. You will fix that. You need to send him something strong. Vodka.

You stagger into your room's private bar, and grab the Grey Goose. Or... would Stan be more of an Absolut guy?

Then you hear a soft noise, look up, and see Him.

You didn't hear anyone come in, but there's a god here, in your house. In your room, with you. His skin is gray. A single horn with an arrow tip arcs up from his head. The other one is broken off, leaving a stump. He's wearing dark glasses and a midnight blue-black hood with a trailing end that drags on the ground. He's long-haired and unreasonably tall. And fuck, this guy is built.

Your mouth feels like it's lagging several minutes behind your mind. "What're you doing...? In my...?" Then you blink. You were raised in a legal seminary. And yet... you don't know which god this is.

"It's alright, Roxy," he says, his voice softer than you expected. You relax instinctively, like hearing the voice of an old friend. Who is this? "I know you don't remember me. But you need to trust me when I tell you we have met before."

"How'd you...?"

"You told me where you keep your spare key." The god smiles, almost apologetically. His teeth are perfect and sharp. "Under the flower pots beside the outer stairwell."

"But..." Your mind is whirling. Who is this??? "Who....?"

"You call me Sagittarius." The air around him shimmers, and he's now wearing a magnificent, midnight blue fitted suit, emblazoned on the arms and legs with white symbols of sagittarius, and silver cufflinks that look somewhat like the spiraling sigil for space.

Saggy! The notes! The missing god! GODS, it all makes sense! "You," you manage. "Talk to me. When 'm like this, and I don't remember. Why?"

"This is the only time you can see me. It is not an ideal situation. But if I appeared to you otherwise, the other gods would know I was here. They must not know I'm here, lest they join to war against me. I need to wait for the exact right time."

You blink, really only retaining half of it. "You don' like em."

Sagittarius nods. "I do not support the project to recreate the Game, which involves you. So, I must submit to my situation."

"Yeah well, join the clubbo bucko." If you drink any more, you might not be able to hold your end of the conversation, but you're tempted.

"You've said as much previously, yes."

Hell. You reach for the nearest bottle (Grey Goose? Why did you take that out?) but Sagittarius takes your hand in his. His grip is powerful, almost painful, but not quite. You're too sloshed to care. Instead, you giggle. "Holdin' hands now, handsome? Take me t' dinner first."

He breaks out in a sweat. "You wouldn't remember it, if I had."

You giggle, though you're not sure if that's a joke.

He takes off his sunglasses to stare into your unfocused eyes, and his gaze is as blue as the sea. "D --> 100k at me, Ro%y. You must write a note to yourself. You need to tell your boss, the Mage, that John Egbert is in e%treme danger from the Bard, and that he must move to protect the boy. You must write this to yourself e%actly, with as few mistakes as possible, so you remember it later."

His grip on your hand tightens, very slightly, and you feel like he's millimeters from snapping your finger bones. You feel no fear at all.

"Oh," you say. "Okay, then. I've got some um, questions."

He smiles again. "For you, I will answer all of them."

You wake up to a pounding headache, a bruised hand, Rose sleeping on the porch, a bunch of pictures of blank walls from Stanley, and a coded note stuffed into your brassiere.

When you finally get around to decoding it, you're shocked to see that the note is actually meaningful this time.

tell him drunks clowns are from Bard. protec kid.

You're not sure, at first, whether to believe yourself. Your drunk self is not necessarily dependable. After all, you apparently stole the spare key from under the flowerpot in your last drunken spree, which was unfortunate for poor Rose, who had to wait outside until you woke up in the wee hours of the morning.

Anyway, you do tell Stan about the 'drunk clowns' being from the Bard. He seems to take it pretty seriously, and asks how to assuage the Carnivale's wrath. You are not sure, but suggest that he display respect for clowns.

The next time you video chat, he's got a clown painting framed on his wall, plain as sober day.

#alcoholism #dad egbert #roxy lalonde #equius zahaak #godstuck au #godstuck fic #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck #into thin air #clowns

[thegodshavehorns]

Into Thin Air (3/4)

Chapter 3. Without Awareness

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are a single, working mother of a precocious little four year old daughter. You work from home, mostly, and can afford childcare services for when you need to be at the office.

Today, Rose is going away to preschool for the first time. You escort her to the bus, pat her gently on the top of her little head, and away she goes.

You go to the car and drive back the way to the house (you don't mind walking the distance, when you're not wearing heels, but you think it might be a bit far for Rose). The mansion seems awfully quiet, without Rose in it. Still, you are both a workaholic and an alcoholic, and your country estate is very nearly bucolic. You have no shortage of things to do.

You check your email. You have a message from TwinArmageddons, but do not feel fear or dread at encountering the handle. It's not at all out of the ordinary, to get company mail from the CEO. The contents of the message are, however, personalized and somewhat cryptic.

there2 2omeone you 2hould meet. contact thii2 number a2ap:

Followedby a phone number. Odd. Well, you are in no rush to please the god, CEO or not. By now, you are aware that, despite your lack of choice as to the role of your own destiny, you can still rebuke the gods in other, more subtle ways. Procrastinating getting in touch with... whoever this is... is one way to do so. After all, the gods can only punish you so much before it starts to interfere with their plans.

You feed the cat. You mix yourself a martini. You scan your newsfeed (mostly bad, which is normal). You go down to the lab to check the latest readings (mostly normal, which is bad). You do some calculations and refinement of the data. Then, you mix yourself another martini.

The house is very quiet. No television, no shrieks of joy or displeasure, no Rose's piping voice, reading aloud to herself or to Jaspers. You mix yourself a martini.

You should probably call that number before you get too tipsy.

"Hello?" The voice on the other line sounds male. "Stanley speaking. Who is this?"

"Roxy Lalonde of SkaiaCorp Labs, pleased to speak with you," you reply, putting on your most chipper tone.

You pause and wait for him to recognize your name, but instead he responds: "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in anything you're selling."

The smile you'd plastered on falters. "Well, I'm not selling anything, Stanley. I'm calling because a certain acquaintance of mine suggested we should talk?" Silence. "...A certain_ divine _acquaintance? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

More silence, then a slight rustling noise. The sound of a door shutting, in the background. Then, in a faint, near-whisper. "Is this about... John?"

"Uh, sorry?"

"No." His voice sounds ragged, desperate, entirely different than when he picked up the phone. "This is his first day of preschool, please, please, is he, did they... did they find him?"

You frown. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, I-"

"My son."

Ah. This, at least, is something you can connect with. "You know, it's my daughter's first day at preschool, too. It feels strange, doesn't it, letting them off into the world like that? I didn't expect it, but I'm feeling rather adrift without her," you confide. Still more silence, so you continue; "I'm sure your son is doing fine."

"Did they tell you to say that?" His words are harsh.

"Stanley," you say kindly. "I haven't the faintest gods-damn clue what you're talking about, so I'll stop mincing words. My boss is the Mage of Doom, may his eyes burn forever, and he told me to call you without explaining who you were or what I should say or why. 'Kay? You gotta throw me a bone here."

"The Mage," Stanley says, and lets out a long, long breath. Then, "He's the one who told me about John, years ago."

"Great, tell me about that."

You talk about John for a while, his strange origins and Stanley's hopes for his future. You assure Stanley that John will be all right in preschool. Then, you talk about Rose. You say rather a bit less about her origins, but freely brag about her cleverness, her huge vocabulary, her above-grade level reading. The two of you commiserate about being single, working parents. Of course, you pick up right away what is going on, that his son is like your daughter, but keep your cards close to your chest about the apocalypse. You have a feeling that telling him won't end well. Then... shit, it's time to pick Rose up from the bus stop. You bid Stanley, who seems to be in a different time zone, a hasty farewell.

In the car, Rose chatters nonstop about preschool, and you smile and nod, shelving away mentions of ponies and music lessons for future extracurricular options.

You save Stanley's number in your phone. It might come in handy, later.

--

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and for the first time in a long while, you have a friend.

"-So that's the note I left under the television," Stan finishes his story, sounding proud.

"That's good parenting strategy," you reply, smiling into the phone. "I'll have to think of something fun like that for Rose."

"It's not _only _for fun," Stan objects. "It's also to mark the milestone, as he grows up."

You make a noncommittal sound into the phone. Your thoughts about Rose growing up are... complex. "Hold on, I've got to show you something."

Rose is psychoanalyzing Jaspers in the next room, and it's cute as all get-out. You mute the phone, sneak up to the doorway, and try to poke the camera lens around the corner for a clandestine 'candid' photo.

Unfortunately, your efforts are to no avail. "Eek!" your first-grader yelps, hurriedly trying to conceal her notepad. "Mom!! This is a confidential psychiatric session! You can't see!"

Jaspers simply looks at you and blinks slowly, unfazed.

"Okay, alrighty, sorry Dr. Rosie," you say, inclining your head, not sorry at all. "Not even to put in a holiday card, huh?"

Rose pouts. She's just so damn cute. "No! You're undermining the patient-doctor relationship!"

"Okay hun, okay, I'll leave you be." You close the door and look back at the phone. You have a lovely picture of Rose flailing and shouting at you. It'll have to do.

You send the picture to Stan and unmute yourself. "Isn't she precious? She says the cat suffers from a Napoleon complex. I didn't even know they taught about Napoleon in first grade, L-O-L!"

Stan chuckles, the sound rich and deep. You like it when he laughs. "She's quite talented. And grown a lot, it looks like, since the last picture."

"No kidding! She's gonna eat me out of house and home, at this rate!" That last is not true. You have more than enough house and home for Rose's appetite.

You pause. Over the course of your friendship, you've learned that Stan always appreciates questions asked of him to be straightforward. "Why don't you ever send any pictures of John?"

Silence, and you can hear Stan breathing. You wait. "I... still have a hard time giving identifying information about him to... someone who works for the gods. You understand."

You nod, though he can't see it. "Sure, but, I work for the Mage, and he already knows about you and John. I don't exactly talk to a lot of other gods on the regular." You pause again. "Look, he introduced us, and that's not a coincidence. He clearly wants me to help you, or you to help me, in our respective... roles. Just because we don't know exactly how, isn't a reason not to engage with this stuff."

"I'm not interested in playing a god's game." Stan's tone is firm.

"Oh, Stan..." If only he knew. You want to tell him, very badly. But, even if John is like Rose, Stan is not like you. He's not necessary to the gods' plans, and that makes him expendable. You don't even know the real extent of how bad it could get, if he learned about the apocalypse at this stage. "I know it's not a game. I understand. You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. But... I do value our friendship. I hope that doesn't count as 'a god's game,' for you?"

"No," he says, after a moment. "It doesn't. I value our friendship as well."

"Sure." You smile. "Maybe one day you'll even send me a picture of yourself. I bet you're real handsome."

He coughs and sputters. Your smile grows wider. You like having that effect on him.

When he hangs up, you notice a faint smell of smoke, and your heart nearly stops. Rose.

Thankfully, it's just Rose trying to burn Jasper's psychiatry notes on the stovetop in the kitchen, and nothing important is on fire. You scold her for using the stove without asking permission, and have her help you clean up the scraps of paper. As you do, you can't help but glance at what's written on the still-legible ones.

How odd. All they say is MEOW.

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and it's late. You swish your martini in its glass, then speak into the phone. "Maybe one day we'll meet in person. Somewhere in the middle of the country equally far from both of us, in some ratty motel where no one suspects a thing."

"Roxy?" He sounds taken aback by your forwardness.

"Nah, you're right, I don't do 'ratty.' We can wine and dine on a cruise ship with fireworks going off in the background like proper grown-ups."

"Roxy, you're an exceptionally lovely woman, truly, but I can't take so much time off work, and I'd have to get a sitter for John..."

You sigh. You dated boys when you were younger, but your whole adult life, you've never gone steady with a man. But this single dad in Washington, he makes you blush like a schoolgirl, and you've still never seen his face. You allow yourself the fantasy, and forget, for a little while, to worry about the future. Nine years.

"...so I don't think a trip makes sense right now."

"Well," you consider. "I could come visit you. Rose will be in school."

"I don't think... what about your work?"

"They can live without me for a weekend."

Silence on the other end. You close your eyes."You're still worried about the gods." Deep breath. "Stan, I'm not asking you as an agent of divinity or anything, I'm asking you as a friend and as a confidante, and as someone who... would like to be more than that."

"Roxy, you don't even know what I look like." He sounds uncertain. Doesn't he believe your words?

There is a pause. Then, you hear your video-chat app chime.

He comes on screen, and you smile. He doesn't look like how you expected, but you don't mind. When he smiles back at you, that's all that matters.

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are completely sloshed tonight. You're holding a mop, because Rose is asleep and you're going to clean your immaculate floors. Properly housewife-style, despite that you're no one's housewife and probably never will be. "Eight years, after all!" you say to the mop in a sing-song tone. The mop can't hear you, it's a mop, and the past doesn't predict the future but the gods sure do, so you brandish your cleaning implement at the floor a bit then realize that you forgot the bucket of soap and water. Oopsie!

You realize your phone is ringing. You can hear it. How long has it been ringing? You're not sure! You go to look for it, lightheaded, swaying a little as you walk. Where is it? It's stopped ringing. Fuck.

By the time you find it, it has a text message from Stan. Fuck! Stan called! It is probably for the best you didn't pick it up; he doesn't like it when you're like this. But you want to talk to him! You decide to call him back, but first you read the message.

HE TOLD ME HE WAS TOO OLD TO SLEEP IN ONESIES, BUT HE'S WEARING THE DINOSAUR PAJAMAS YOU SENT. I THINK HE LIKES THEM AFTER ALL.

There's a picture. John, eight years old today, standing in his room with a gap-toothed grin, displaying his birthday haul: a bunch of robot toys, a few Magic Treehouse books, and wearing the t-rex onesie you sent him. Kid's going through a dinosaur phase, you see.

You start to smile, but what catches your eye next strangles your happiness in its crib.

The clowns are everywhere, scrawled in indigo paint. Fanged, vicious, purple clowns, on the walls, the windows, the hardwood floor of John's room. Towering, looming over John's bed like horrible painted giants. And arrows, in purple likewise, pointing directly to where the boy would lay while asleep.

Well. That's ever-so-slightly sobering. You text Stan.

wow wuts wiaht the calown?s

A few moments pass before:

YOU'RE DRUNK, ROXY. YOU SHOULD GO TO BED.

dunno if i can afta seen all thoes clownz!!

YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T DRINK SO MUCH. IT'S VERY BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH.

ur 1 2 talkc u SMOK.

PLEASE, GO TO SLEEP. YOU'RE NOT YOURSELF WHEN YOU'RE THIS DRUNK. YOU'RE NOT EVEN SEEING STRAIGHT. I SENT YOU A PICTURE OF JOHN, NOT A CLOWN.

i meen the clowna on his wall omg there creppy af

WHAT CLOWNS?

purpl clonwns drawins in teh pic ture im not crazy

I DIDN'T SAY YOU WERE CRAZY. PLEASE GO TO BED. WE CAN TALK IN THE MORNING WHEN YOU'RE FEELING BETTER.

You continue to text him, describing the clown drawings in some detail, but he stops responding. Eventually, you pass out on the couch.

#alcoholism #drunkenness #roxy lalonde #rose lalonde #dad egbert #john egbert #godstuck fic #godstuck #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck #into thin air

[thegodshavehorns]

Into Thin Air (2/4)

Chapter 2. Without Choice

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and in no way are you cut out to be a mother. The very notion is ridiculous. It's laughable. Ha ha. No.

You're a mess! In the past year, your life has gone quite rapidly down the shitter. You can barely hold it together at work, and now this?

You look down miserably at the little baby in your arms. Your daughter, legally and, according to the lab, genetically as well. She coos.

You tried to give the baby to someone else. You're pretty sure that 'finders keepers' doesn't apply to magic god-babies that fall out of the sky, nor to the state's foster care system.

But no. Apparently, the gods have ordained that you raise this helpless infant. Even now, the social services worker, who has broken into a cold sweat, is explaining about how some convoluted law, signed decades ago, makes it so that if a child is of possibly-divine or otherworldly origin, they fall under jurisdiction of certain NGOs, which of course answer to their boards of officers, which in turn are mostly staffed by ranked Angels and higher-ups at SkaiaCorp. And they placed her with you.

You leave in a huff. This is so unfair. Not just to you, but to this nominally-innocent baby girl, pink-eyed and guileless, with chubby pink baby cheeks and blonde baby curls... this... sky-spawned... cute little... snot-nosed... wiggler... kid!

While you make your way miserably back to your car, bouncing the baby and thinking about the cost of infant formula, your cellphone beeps.

-----twinArmageddons (TA) has begun trolling tipsyGnostalgic (TG)-----

TG: whadsyu want

TA: ii 2ee you tried two get riid of her again.

TA: iits startiing two get annoyiing.

TG: i cant believe taht u thk i can raisd s baby

TG: i casn bsrely raise mySLEF

TA: are you drunk agaiin?

TG: no im txtng wit lelft hsnd

TG: baby in oyther

TA: that2 2weet. what are you goiing to name her?

TG: u cant do thisd to meeee ill get a lawyr.

TA: miine2 better.

You're too distraught to text back for several minutes. Then...

TA: iill giive you a promotiion.

TG: wat

TA: keep the kiid, and iill giive you a promotiion.

TG: fuk u. that is not fair!

TA: what priice would be faiir two you?

TG: i cant be boght

TA: yes you can. what priice?

TG: its not fair to the kid. im not fair for her.

TA: then 2top the driinkiing. 2iimple 2olutiion, lalonde.

TA: at lea2t untiil you can put her iinto boardiing kiindergarten.

TG: stop drinking

TG: you say that like its simple

TA: well, your 2pelling has iimproved in the la2t few text2, 2o 2omethiing mu2t be 2iinkiing iin.

TG: i put her down, asshole. i'm in the car.

TG: anyway boarding school is expensive.

TA: 2o, youre 2ayiing that

TA: you need a raii2e?

TG: fuck u.

-----tipsyGnostalgic has blocked twinArmageddons!-----

That'll hold him a few seconds. You look over at the baby, who has fallen asleep. Give up drinking? You feel a cold wash of relief, followed immediately by a weird dread. You'll lose something, if you stop drinking. You know you will. But you don't know what.

Your cellphone beeps again.

-----twinArmageddons has sent an attachment: The Baby Name Wizard: A Magical Method for Finding the Perfect Name for Your Baby-----

Dammit. You're going to need to buy a lot of diapers.

--

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and your new home is real swank. Huge, spare, and stylish in all the right ways. There's plenty of cupboards to hold booze, which is both delightful and most unhelpful, a gigantic foyer, just in case you get any visitors from work, and a secret lab in the basement, for personal projects.

You feel precisely zero regret for buying it on the company dollar. After all, in sixteen years, it won't matter in the least.

Speaking of, the baby is crying.

You take a sip of wine. No, not "the baby." Rose. Rose is crying. Right.

You go to Rose's room - lavishly cushioned and pink - and make reassuring sounds at the baby. "Don't cry, don't cry," you coo to her. You set your wine glass down on the windowsill and pick her up. "Nothing to cry about, it's all just our collective fates, yes Rosie, there there."

The wailing tot calms, eventually, and falls asleep in your arms. She's damn cute. You imagine her growing up. Learning to talk, and read, and write, and do differential calculus. Maybe. Your stomach ties into a knot. You'll have to teach her how to code before she hits puberty, or she won't be any good at it by the time the world ends and she turns into a god.

Maybe.

You look at your sleeping daughter. Neither of you asked for this, but there it is.

You can't do this. You have to do this.

You take a deep breath and gently lay Rose down in her crib. One day after the next. Just keep walking forward. Sixteen years of living death, and then it'll be over.

You pick your wine glass up again, and drink deep. You need to get your mind off of this.

Assured that Rose is sleeping well for now, you go back to your own room, and open your note drawer. Quite a few notes have built up by now, all encoded, all nonsensical, all in your own handwriting.

brokn arrows?? use tittytantium shaft lol

wont talk abt the hhoarn broken 1 Y????

lol doesnt no liek swears

fiddlestix u 2 mistr

saggy = saddy roflmao

cant tap dat robutt lol

said robot dont havf anusiz im gonna puke

4. there r 4. <== most usseful thin hes sayd

lol imma need sum new tolwls

Yeah, you don't know what to do with these. They feel important, but you don't have a fucking clue what they are supposed to mean. They're an enigma wrapped in a mystery, but at least they'll engage your tipsy brain until you black out.

That's the best you can ask for, these days.

#homestuck #into thin air #roxy lalonde #sollux captor #rose lalonde #babies #homestuck fanfiction #godstuck fic #godstuck au

[thegodshavehorns]

Very small, one-sentence change made to the end of Survival Lessons, go take a look if you like.

#story hooks are important #survival lessons #revision #mod post

[thegodshavehorns]

Into Thin Air (1/4)

Chapter 1: Without Control

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are about to break your employment contract.

You, however, have decided to pray to the Sylph. You need to talk to her about fast-forwarding the timeline for humanity's interplanetary travel. Specifically, whether you could get functional, self-sustaining colonies in other star systems some time in the next few years.

The punishment for breaking this contract is termination, and you are 98% sure that this does not only mean termination of employment. You've always been on good terms with the gods, but you still know you may be putting your life on the line. But so many other lives are on the line as well, you would have to be unbelievably evil not to do it.

You're shaking. You kneel down and open your mouth to speak the words of the prayer, but before you can pronounce a single syllable, a goddess appears. It's not the Sylph. It's the Seer, her face split by sharp smile.

Your heart skips a beat and you make a strangled sound, but she waves her hand airily. "Take a seat. I'm not here to kill you."

"But," your voice is strained. "I-"

"You haven’t done anything yet. And mere intent is not, in itself, a crime. Usually. I’m not going to execute you for your data excavation escapade, either.”

You swallow. She knows about that, already? It was only a few hours ago that you'd hacked the corporate server, digging in as deep as you could go, drilling past one firewall after another, unraveling encryption after encryption. You'd found that the endgame for SkaiaCorp, as a company, is to create a virtual reality program that has an effect in real, living reality, that blends the two until they are indistinguishable, and eventually empowers its users to create an entirely new universe and rule it as gods. The only casualty would be the Earth itself.

You're so afraid that you feel sick from it, and along with that, you're shaking with rage. The company you've worked at for five years is engineering the apocalypse, and you've been bamboozled by the living gods themselves to help it along. You want to throw your computer monitor at the Seer, or throw a broken bottle at her, or maybe just throw up.

The Seer's smile is opaque. "So, you know about the Game. That's inconvenient."

Inconvenient?? You can't believe it. You are going to do an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle. You are going to let her have it.

"How could you do this to us?" you shout. "To the entire world?"

"You're angry," the Seer observes, nodding and still, infuriatingly, smiling. "Understandable, given the circumstances. I’m going to save us some time by issuing an abstract of this conversation: You are going to call me insane, cruel, terrible—plenty of unkind things,” she says, counting them off on her fingers. “You will also express despair and horror that your planet will be destroyed. You will tell me that I should be ashamed, that I should apologize for involving you in such a vicious, evil project. Et cetera, et cetera.”

You clench your fists and consider striking the Seer, but the goddess holds up a finger. "You have not yet committed a capital crime, but be careful, lest I find you in contempt of court,” she says, and you remain still. “If I allow your rant to continue, your volume will build and you will talk until your voice becomes hoarse. You will probably cry. In conclusion, it’s nothing that I haven’t heard before.”

You can't bear this, even with her threats looming over your head. You open your mouth, but she interrupts. "Feel free to say everything you were going to, or just call me juvenile names if you prefer. I won't stop you. But you will hear me out, first," she says. There is no room for argument.

Then, the Seer explains. There's no point trying to stop the Game. It's already happened. Your own existence is proof of that, and your divine origins. Fell from the sky on a meteor. If you stopped now, you'd create a paradox, and what then?

"How long do we have?" you ask, finally, voice ragged.

"Sollux projects that the Game will be completed in sixteen years. Aradia says that, between an unusually sticky bug in the code and a freak hurricane that disrupts a critical part of the supply infrastructure, it will be complete in seventeen years and four months.”

Seventeen years. "What if I quit?"

The Seer tilts her head. "You are entwined with this project, and integral to its success. The only way to extricate yourself from this scenario would be to die. Even so, that will only create a doomed timeline. Since you like computers, imagine our timeline, including our future, everything from the beginning of this universe to the completion of the Game, as a program. If something goes wrong—like your absence from the project—then the program crashes, restarts from the last viable saved state, and tries again.”

Your shoulders drop. "So, all of humanity..."

"All on earth, anyway, yes." The Seer pauses. "The... last time that the Game was played, the results were apocalyptic. Only a handful of people survived. But there were unusual factors involved in that case. If we moved some humans off-world, then they would survive. However," she continues, before you can speak up, "you must not speak of this to the Sylph. Transplanting your entire species is untenable —suffice it to say there are reasons we have forbidden off-world colonies to humans until you have developed interstellar travel for yourselves— but she will not see it that way. Unlike the creation of the Game itself, the fate of humanity is not written in stone. But if you don’t trust us on this—if you so much as insinuate to the Sylph—then rather than saving some of your people, you will lose all of them.”

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you're hungover. You are hungover because you drank last night.

You can't believe it. Nine years sober. Nine years. You wrecked it, you awful excuse for a functional human being. Nine years you were sober. Why, why would you-

Oh. Right. Now you remember why.

The world is ending in seventeen years and change, and you're helping it end.

You close your eyes against the light and groan. Gods, this hangover sucks.

Well, you're still here! Not dead. So this is the choice you made.

Your eyelids are not enough of a shield against the bright sunlight streaming through the windows of your home. You put a hand over your eyes. Still not enough. You turn your head into whatever furniture you happen to be laying on, and moan miserably into the sticky upholstery. A scream would be more apropos, but any loud sound is too much right now.

You need to get up. You have responsibilities. You need to feed the cat. Your forehead is making a... crinkling noise?

With great reluctance, you reach up and remove the piece of paper taped to your forehead. Whose idea was that?

Well, it's written in code, so it's probably yours. At least that gives you something to think about other than the end of the world, your headache, and your overall grossness.

The code isn't too hard to break, but now it somehow makes even less sense.

saggy has the awnsers u want

Well, that's dumb. Who or what the hell is a saggy?

Dumb, stupid, stupid. Your name is Roxy Lalonde, you feel like absolute shit, and this stupid note isn't helping.

Well, you'll think about it another time. For now, the world is going to end, and you feel like... you feel like a drink.

You pour yourself one.

#godstuck fic #homestuck #homestuck fanfiction #godstuck au #roxy lalonde #terezi pyrope #prayer #alcoholism #hangover #into thin air