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Homestuck Kink Meme: Act 2

Homestuck Kink Meme

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Both art and fic are welcome and encouraged.

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RULES

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If your prompt or fill contains common triggers such as graphic violence, rape/non-con, or abuse, please label it in the comment subject line, e.g.: "Vriska/Tavros [abuse]" or "Gamzee/any [violence]."

Please put the character(s) you're requesting in the comment subject line! That makes it a lot easier for potential fillers to find requests.

Having prompts filled is what makes a kink meme successful! Try to fill a prompt for every handful you leave.

There's a master list of fills in this post. Please link yours when you finish them!

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Thank you!

Regarding Nepeta and tea, this is my headcanon, and something I needed to edit a bit to clarify when I uploaded this to AO3, among other things: Nepeta actually really likes tea! She just doesn't like it unless it's got cream and sugar and has had some time to cool. Eridan likes his tea plain, and so hot you can barely taste it, and she doesn't get that at all. :D Anyway, this is a special sort of tea; it's medicinal, and adding anything to it would have made it less effective. (I always forget that I can't edit comments anymore....)

Ah, makes sense.

Eridan must be thrilled that Karkat kept his promise! I just hope that, between them, they have some idea of what they're supposed to do.

Vriska never looks as pretty as she does when she's angry.

You should be doing something right now; your auspistices are exceptionally volatile people, and this situation could go very out of control very quickly. But it's hard to look away, hard to calm her down when her cheeks are flushed cerulean with rage and her hair is bristling around her, as if her rage had given it a life of its own.

"You lying, backstabbing little cheat!" she spits, another in a long line of endearments, directed solely at the cold, calculating face of the seadweller standing barely out of arm's reach. At least, you're pretty sure that cold and calculating is what he's trying for; more often than not the best that Eridan can manage is a sort of half-hearted sneer. Honestly, you think that the fact that he can't quite manage it makes Vriska angrier than anything else he does. "How dare you meddle with my plans?"

You're not sure what happened this time, and usually that would bother you; you like to know what's made your partners unhappy, in order to understand how best to handle the situation. But Vriska and Eridan have clearly passed that point already. You're lucky that you happened to see what was going on; the two of you had probably snuck off to collude with each other behind your back before, if the mysterious scratches you've found on Vriska at times were any indication. You were lucky this time; one of your many sources alerted you to their plans, and you were able to catch up to them before the inevitable happened.

Neither of them have seen you yet; both of them are too focused on each other. You suppose that if anyone is watching, and if you should ever be asked, you could say that your hesitation was only an attempt to ascertain the nature of their argument. It might fool them, if they aren't watching too closely.

"Please," Eridan says. Back to the issue at hand. "Nobody cares about your plans. Not like any of them ever actually work."

"They will work! You've seen my plans in action, you of all people should know that!" For a second she starts to look triumphant again. "Just because you're jealous of my genius doesn't mean you have to tell lies -"

"I'm not lyin and you know it," Eridan shoots back. "You haven't gotten anyfin right lately, have you? Ever since you messed up with that dirtblood loser you've been off a your game -"

"I have never been off my game!" Vriska protests, with a toss of her head. She's lovely now, and furious - you really should make your presence known soon.

"Oh, please. You're a joke, Vris, an everyone knows it. You're a walkin punchline, a blueblood who can't handle her lessers." He takes a tiny, mincing step forward - not enough to put either of them in range of the other, but a clear message of intent. "And here I used to think you were worth somefin."

"I'm worth way more than you are! You couldn't even manage to convince your old moirail that you weren't a total creeper, which is probably why she -"

Okay. That was too far. "Enough," you say, as loudly and as angrily as you can manage, and both of them turn to stare at you. You get a direct look at Vriska's darkened face, at the passion there, and for a second it's easy to imagine that passion in a different context, and - and you're getting distracted again. Bad idea. "You two are not supposed to be here alone."

"Kanaya!" Vriska says, rolling her eyes. "You were asleep! I didn't wanna bother you, okay? Geez, I was being thoughtful for once -"

You'd like to believe that. "I appreciate your generosity," you say dryly, "but I would have preferred that you wait."

"Yeah, because I love waitin for you to finish doin your makeup," Eridan snaps, but the venom isn't in it. You're not sure you can settle this with words. You'll see.

"Well," you say, trying your best to sound angry, "I suppose that there is no reason why the three of us cannot settle this."

Vriska glares back at you, if only for a moment. "Kanaya, please, I keep telling you I've got this!"

"Vris, c'mon. You might as well let her tell you what to do again." Eridan's fingers were twitching in the general direction of his syllabus, but other than that he was making no move. So smug, so confident that he was going to be able to goad her... it wasn't what Kanaya had expected, really. Usually, from everything Kanaya had heard, he was generally the first person to dive across the line. "Just like usual, right?"

That did it - you see it in her stance before she charges, the sudden wildness in her eyes, the gritting of her teeth. Nothing irritates her more than even the implication that she wasn't in control, even when she knows that she isn't.

You hate having to resort to this - half the time it backfires, and occasionally you end up with one of the two trying to talk you into a black fling that you're not interested in. You haven't gone this far with these two, not yet, but you're hoping that you know them well enough that you can keep things from going that far. You've said that before, though. You're not always right.

Well, there's only one way to find out. You reach out as quickly as you can and shove Eridan away, pushing as hard as you can as he's gloating - he's not prepared for it, and he goes sprawling on the dirt. It gets him out of the way of Vriska's charge, at any rate; she's a step or two beyond where he'd been lying before she can skid to a stop and turn to face you - just in time to feel the back of your hand strike her in the face. "I said," you say evenly, "we're going to deal with this."

"I... I...." Vriska's speechless, backing away from you, and you can't claim to be surprised. You've never struck her before, not like that.

"What the fuck, Kan!" Eridan wheezes, and you glance over to see him dragging himself back up, one hand over his stomach. "What do you think you're doin??"

Really, it was as if he'd never been in an proper ashen relationship before. "I am encouraging you to settle this like civilized trolls," you answer smoothly, looking from his enraged glare to her shocked, wide eyes, and vice versa. "I am also making it clear that if you do not, I have no intention of allowing you two to handle this without my interference. I hope that I am making myself clear."

The three of you stand in a tableau, Vriska and Eridan standing on either side of you, glaring at each other still, and at the same time shooting tiny, charged side glares at you - at the person standing between them, the one who's standing and waiting for their next move. It's up to them, you think - if they want to stop this foolishness, you'll stop and stand down. You'll let them talk about this - whatever this is, this time, and you're quite honestly embarrassed that you don't know - and you'll offer advice as best you can. If they'll listen. If they'll both stand down -

Vriska makes the next move too - she practically has to, after what Eridan's said, doesn't she? Or maybe she's just not taking you seriously, and she thinks that you can be brushed aside. Maybe she thinks that being her moirail for as long as you have has clouded your judgement. Maybe she's right, sometimes. This time, though, you push her back - just enough that the fierce slap she was aiming at your cheek is only a glancing swipe. It stings, the feel of her claws against your skin; you aren't going to be surprised if you find out that you'd bleeding, and you're tempted to brush your fingers against your cheek and find out.

You don't have the chance, quite frankly. You've barely managed to push Vriska back when you feel something wrap around your neck and tug hard - you can see the stripes from the corner of your eye, if just barely. Eridan's making a valiant effort to garrote you with his scarf, but the thing's too soft and stretchy to actually make an effective weapon, and the poor bastard doesn't seem to understand the concept of leverage; it's ridiculously easy to plant yourself and pull him around, at least until he gets the idea and lets go.

"Damn it, Kanaya," you hear Vriska gasp from behind you, and duck just in time to avoid another wild swing. "Why are you so meddlesome?" She pushes at you, and that time you feel her claws break the skin on your arm. It's not a deep cut, but it's enough; the pain is sharp and clear and rushes through you, and you feel it, the sudden resolve that you feel when you get into these sorts of fights. The last bit of pity flips over, turns in on itself, and the urge to help her is gone - now you only feel the flat, grey sort of hate that you've felt so many times before, the feeling that you're standing between her and Eridan because you're sick of it, sick of this, sick of her trying to do these things even after you specifically ask her not to meet him behind her back, and by gog you're not going to let them do it.

You wrestle Vriska out of her shirt with very little resistance, while Eridan's the one who rips your skirt away - not literally, thankfully, or you would have had to demand repayment and he's notoriously bad about paying debts. But you and Vriska team up at least to the extent that you manage to get him out of those ridiculous pants (and you indulge Vriska a bit and let her rip a hole in one of the legs before you snatch them away, because really, those things are an offense against good fashion sense.) You're still between them, always between them, always ready to push a swipe aside that happened to be aimed a bit too well, but you've stopped trying to push them apart.

You don't have to separate them anymore; they haven't quite stopped attacking each other, but now they're attacking you just as much, and you're in the middle of a tangle of flailing arms and kicking legs and cool grey skin. Your bodies - now considerably less clothed than before - are all pressing tightly together now, and you're squeezed between them, locked into this ball of mutual hate and feeling something start to build up inside of you as you kiss them in turn, firm nips against their exposed skin. It's not tension, not need - kismesissitude is that need, the mutual rage and concupiscent desire. This is cool and heavy, like a wet blanket over your feelings.

You're all tightly wrapped around each other as the feeling overtakes you completely and the moment begins to fade. You tense slightly as the hatred peaks, then relax as it slowly starts to subside, until your mind is left as cool and barren as a burned-out forest. The others are feeling much the same, if Eridan's muttered curses and Vriska's exasperated sighs are any indication - you know that it has something to do with biofeedback and pheromones and other large scientific words, things you don't quite understand.

You're the first to catch your breath, because you have to be. "Now," you say, "we can... we can settle this."

"Fine," Vriska says, her eyes closing. She looks serene under the moonlight - not sated, but at least stilled. "I get it. I know I stole from you, Eridan. But you had it coming after you stole from me."

"It's not theft if it's mine to begin with," he answers, his voice considerably more irritated than vriska's, and a good deal more exhausted. "I gave it to you in... the first place because you... you said you'd help me."

"Yeah. Whatever." She shakes her head. "I don't feel like dealing with this anymore. I'm just going to give your stupid stuff back."

"Good. You'll get yours when I get mine." He struggles his way out of the jumbled pile of limbs and goes for his pants, and gives Vriska a half-hearted glare for the hole you allowed her to tear in them, but does little else. His legs are wobbly, and he stumbles about when he tries to bend down for his shirt, but after a few tries he manages. "I'll set something up with Kan soon, if that's good enough for you."

He's looking at you as he says it, and you nod. "Soon," you say.

"Yeah. Whatever." He shoulders the shirt and stumbles off, in the general direction of the sea. You hope he'll be all right - you're sure he's armed, because he's always armed, but he's much too proud to stop and rest even though you're equally sure that he needs it. Still, the lingering hate is just enough that you let him go without trying to intervene.

Vriska groans. "Geez," she says, pushing herself up. "I can't believe you followed me!"

You look at her, at the flat calm in her eyes, as you sit up and scrabble for your clothes. You're well out of range of the wardrobifier, and it'll be a relief once you get back to your hive. "What else was I to do?" you answer, looking away. "The fight would have ended much worse for both of you if I had not meddled."

Vriska snorts - it's not the most attractive laugh, but you always find it obnoxiously adorable, all the same. "As if he'd actually hurt me," she says.

You don't answer. Vriska underestimates Eridan on a nightly basis, you think; she refuses to take him seriously, even though their rivalry has progressed far beyond childish games. But there's no convincing her of that. "I'm going home," you say, testing your legs - no serious damage, you're relieved to note. Only a bit of soreness that you're sure will fade soon.

"Gog," Vriska says, "PLEASE tell me you have a transportalizer -"

"Do I look like a fool?" you say, holding the item up. "I do hope you weren't so addled that you forgot yours."

"Addled? Don't be silly!" she snaps, a bit too quickly. "I don't need stupid things like that."

No, you think, sighing in resignation. You never remember such things. Why did I expect this to be different? It's frustrating, how overconfident she can be at times. "I am not allowing you to walk home alone," you say. "Come here."

"Aw, Kanaya," she says with a too-wide grin, "you're the nicest meddlefriend a girl could ask for."

"Yes," you say, shaking your head and setting the transportalizer to her hive. You shouldn't be doing this - she deserves to pay for her decision to leave without a reliable way to get back home, and you have no doubt she can handle the predators on the way - but you can't help yourself. Leaving her behind would be... cruel.

You simply must stop flipping like this, you think as you activate the device. You're really not sure how much longer you can keep track of all of these feelings.

---

Later, when you arrive home, you examine the scratches. You have more wounds than you thought, and so did the others; your skin is slightly smeared with traces of blue and violet, along with splotches of jade green. The clothes stick to your skin in places, and you wince as you pull them free.

You rub the scratches on your face absently - the ones from that first wild swing that you think was aimed at you - and feel... something. It's strange, this feeling - you find yourself remembering how beautiful she was again, when she was so angry. For a strange, discombobulating moment, you find yourself jealous of Eridan, for having ever seen that sort of passion on her face, even if it was a black passion.

Then you shake your head and reach for a bottle of disinfectant, because someone has to be the responsible one, and you suppose it might as well be you. You are, after all, so very good at it.

Meenah catches Roxy and decides to vivisect her to see how she works.

Just wondering, were to planning to show Kanaya's favouritism towards Vriska in this story? She only really acts on her concern towards Vriska, and it doesn't seem as if she cares as much about Eridan, which is probably a recipe for disaster.

I did, actually! I was trying to convey a rather dysfunctional relationship, and I'm glad that came across.

(I pretty much see any ashen relationship involving Kanaya and Vriska to be doomed to failure, since Kanaya is Vriska's moirail and has a flushcrush on her besides. She's way too hung up on one person to be fair to the other. I think she's a good auspistice when she's involved with other trolls that she doesn't have so many red feelings for, but everyone has a blind spot and I think that Vriska is hers. See also: How the Vriska/Kanaya/Tavros thing turned out.)

I feel like you're selling Kanaya short here - her feelings for Vriska, as you note, are pretty unabashedly red. She doesn't let herself be dragged into mediating for Vriska's problems unless circumstances force her hand (as with Tavros in the game), precisely because that's not how her feelings run. Eridan has the "any quadrant is better than no quadrant" problem (trying to get Feferi to auspisticize between him and Sollux) but we don't see that kind of desperation from Kanaya.

Good point. I didn't really go into details about this situation; in my mind it's a similar thing that happened here, in that the relationship between Vriska and Eridan was getting to a point where being kismeses was going to start being hazardous to an unacceptably large number of other trolls, including themselves, and Kanaya felt that she needed to intervene. (Also in my head this is not long before Kanaya breaks off this relationship and finally shows Vriska that she's red for her.)

I might've been overprojecting here, though, on the subject of Vriska being a weak point for Kanaya. I'll think about it some more before I post this elsewhere, if I do.

Thanks for the feedback. I'm still getting a feel for these characters, honestly! I've probably gotten a number of things wrong.

\o/ I don't know what to exclaim about first! I am so happy to see this update...

Eridan and Dualscar being adorable together before Karkat walked in is, like, the cutest thing ever and the closest I'm going to come to liking kid!fic. :D

"Your Devastation" makes me grin: such a very troll sort of title! (Alas for the seadwellers who have to pronounce its V, though.)

Sollux! I love snarky!moirail!Sollux. Unironically telling Karkat to eat! And Karkat's earlier "Imperial order" against making a duality thing out of the breeders' relationship. Be still, my heart; snarky adorableness is even better than the standard sort!

Karkat being inwardly intimidated by Dualscar -- amazing and awesome, because of how completely he covers it; never would have guessed, from the sections in Eridan's viewpoint! <3 Karkat, you're adorabloodthirsty by my standards; I believed you completely. :D

Love the differences in what each one notices, too -- Eridan notices wording, and matches things against his training, while Karkat notices the differences between projection and emotion, both the genuine (Eridan's so happy to see him, despite having no 'reason') and the feigned (seductive confidence covering battle-nerves).

[This got a bit twisted, OP; I hope it's what you had in mind!]

Your name is Vriska Serket, and you're doing Tavros a huuuuge favor! In fact you wish that he'd be able to remember what you do for him after you're finished, so that you can tell him just how huge a favor you're doing for him. It's one of those things that you'd love to get credit for - and maybe you'll find a way, someday, once you get a few of these other irons dealt with. But for now, honestly, you're having more fun doing this for him when he doesn't know about it when you're done.

Nobody else knows about this either, and you're being very careful to keep it that way! Not your matesprit, who still acts like her fussy meddlefanged self sometimes, and definitely not your real kismesis, whose blood is just a shade too low to understand what an important thing you're doing for him! And not any of his friends, or his matespirt, who'd probably flip out and club you to death for messing with the kid.

Why is everyone so messed up over this? You're only trying to help the miserable little brownblooded wimp, is that so wrong? Look at him - short, skinny, glassy-eyed like a stupid hoofbeast, ugly brown blood running through his veins. Who could possibly wax any shade of black for a disaster like that? He'd be culled the minute the drones came over for not having a kismesis-pail to contribute, no matter how many ugly brown-and-indigo swirls his matesprit tried to push on them to make up for it! Someone has to do something, and you figure you're the lady for the job; you know soooo much about hate to begin with, and you might as well share.

Really, if you're going to be honest with yourself, you should just cull the poor little guy already. And you've thought about it, you really have! Just like you thought very, very seriously about making him jump off of that cliff that one time, when you had him cornered and all he could do was whine. It was just like that white-text jerk had said, and you were all ready to finish him off, and then... well, okay, you don't know what stopped you. You want to think that you finally got fed up with the jerk telling you he knew what you were going to do, and decided to prove him wrong. But either way, he never contacted you again, and Tavros ran away screaming like a little kid as soon as you dropped the game, and you just stood there and pounded your fist into the dirt and hated yourself a little bit.

You were just a kid back then, though! You're older now, and they'll be sending you off to space before too long. You've made too many stupid childish mistakes, and you're going to make sure you don't make this one again. You're going to do your duty. It's just what a highblood does!

---

Philanthropy

He's on his knees, and she is standing over him, her eyes gleaming blue. "You're so beautiful when you're like that," she whispers, almost endearingly. "When you act like you know where you belong. You DO know where you belong, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," he whispers - he knows exactly what she wants him to do. Her control is more subtle now, less overwhelming, but no less powerful - all she has to do is give his mind the merest nudge, and he'll do whatever it is she wants. Sometimes, she thinks he's convinced that he wants to do it. "I belong... right here."

It's so pathetic - he never fights back! He probably doesn't even know how to fight back, not against someone as powerful as she is, and it makes her sick to think about it. Not that she's sure what she would do if he did fight back - the thought fills her with a different sort of rage. She hates him no matter what he does, which is why she figures that this is okay, that she's helping him, that it's the right thing to do.

The fact that HE doesn't believe it is irrelevant, she thinks. He'll figure it out someday, and when he does, he'll thank her.

Tavros, kneeling before her, can't do anything but stare up as she strips off her pants - he thinks that maybe he wants to look away, but he can't, because his mind is telling him to do this, and he can't help but listen to it. Part of him knows that this isn't real, that Vriska is doing something to him, but that part of his mind is meek and silly and can't be right, because Vriska's long legs are shapely and grey, and he can see the tip of her cerulean bulge emerging, and his mind is overcome with the blackest sort of lust as he stares at her. It's wrong, in his head - envy and rage don't make any real sense to him - but it's there, and he can't make it go away by thinking about how wrong it is.

"Now, Pupa," she croons above him, "I think I need some time to warm up," and something inside of him flips, because he knows what's going to happen next. He's just not sure whether it's the part of his mind that wants this that's reacting, or the part that wants to run away as fast as he can. Maybe it's both, at the same time. "Open wi-ide!"

He opens his mouth so obediently, and her bulge throbs, squirming out further. Her smile widens - she might not have the widest or thickest of bulges, but it's more than enough for his tiny frame. She steps forward, grabs him by the horns, and pulls, so that he falls onto his hands and knees (skinning them - she'll have to add something to his memory to explain that, she thinks, annoyed.) Her bulge practically engulfs his head, the thickest tentacle forcing its way down his throat. The rest wrap around the rest of them, trying to creep into as much of him as they can - plugging his nose, trying to crawl past his eyeballs into his eye sockets. She'll never let them hurt them, but it's nice to see the fear in his face when he realizes that there's nothing he can do about it!

He makes a little moan as she pushes harder in and around him, and he shifts his weight just enough to lift one hand - her idea, of course, although he might think that it's his - and push one long finger into her nook. He has claws, of course, but that just makes it better - this kind of thing just isn't the same without pain, and anyway, it feels as close as it ever does to him trying to fight back, and that helps, too. "Harder," she growls, bucking her hips. "Harder, damn you."

He moans as best he can, exactly as if he's enjoying it. He IS enjoying it, isn't he? He doesn't have to do this, after all, doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do. Therefore, this must be something he wants to do, and there's no reason to be worried, right? He didn't need to feel like he was screaming inside, and he didn't have to be worried that he could barely breathe, because he wanted to do this and that must mean it's okay.

It doesn't take long for her to finish, moaning in pleasure and nearly choking him in the rush. There's no genetic material - not yet, not until later - but it's good, and she's hoping it'll be as good as what's about to come. "Nice," she manages after a while, and grins. "I might even make sure that YOU enjoy it, this time. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," he says, and smiles his biggest, angriest smile - it seems like the right thing to do - but something in him is still screaming, and screaming, and screaming -

---

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you're having the weirdest dreams lately.

For the most part, life's pretty good - you have a fantastic matesprit and a lot of fun with your friends. It's a lot better than it was when you were a kid, and afraid of everything - sure, you're still not the smartest troll, or the fastest, or the strongest. And maybe your blood color isn't too great, although you don't understand why people like Equius make such a big deal out of it. (You don't understand most of what he does, anyway - especially when he keeps following your matesprit around like an angry hatesick puppy, and it's starting to make you kind of mad.) You're fine, until you try to sleep.

You keep dreaming, though, and the fact that you're dreaming in the first place is weird enough - maybe the sopor isn't strong enough, somehow? You don't know how - you even have the nightmares when you go to spend the night at Gamzee's hive, and he has really nice sopor, a lot better than yours. But for some reason they still come through.

It's weird, too. They never really get really specific. You're always afraid inside, and you always want to run, even though for some reason you can't. But for some other reason they make you feel good inside - really good, sometimes. Good in a mean, angry sort of way, but still good.

You'd ask someone about it, but it's not as if you have anyone you can just ask. And although you're pretty sure Gamzee knows, you don't want to tell him too much. You really don't want to worry him, not when he's so good to you. So you just sleep as best you can, and you ignore the weird nightmares, and you try not to remember.

They're probably nothing, anyway. You're probably just nervous.

You should continue! It's really good and even if there are others like it, that just means it's a good idea a lot of people like.
If you do continue I hope it's from Roxy's pov. :)

IT'S UPDATED! And finished, to boot!

YAY! I am as happy as Gamzee with an ugly sofa. :D

Gosh, so much I want to say, and not enough words to convey it sufficiently! Roxy is so awesome in her own incompetent (or at least, very-belatedly-competent) way -- I giggled at the "fast learner" line!

Gamzee is heartrendingly adorable in his vacillation between trying-too-hard cheer and badly suppressed fear and rage... I wanted to cry at the story of how he met and lost Tavros, and I loved all the hints about how they came to be in such a situation and how supremely Wrong the world they live in is. *shivers*

The Ugly Couch Robe-slash-Fort will forever be the epitome of adorableness, too. Figures Gamzee would think it was pretty (so colourful!) and Roxy would figure out what to do with the remains once it was "skinned". :D (I'm firmly of the opinion that building forts is a good answer to pretty much every trauma.) *Grins*

I'm not sure if this has ever been requested before (I'm...fairly new). So I apologize if it has.

But in the world where Davesprite comes from, he thinks Jade is dead right? So when he goes back in time and sees Jade alive, he's relieved...and excited. So excited that he kisses her...among other things...much to Jade and Dave's surprise.

And it's probably not the best time to be doing those things, but Davespirte can't help himself because he's spent years wondering and worrying and thinking she was dead and now she's not, and...and he's still a teenager, dammit, he needs this.

And Dave's ~~jealous~~offended because what the hell does future-him think he's doing? And how does that even work when he's a sprite, anyway?

Jade, meanwhile, is a little confused, but can't deny how nice it feels. Plus, if it helps Davesprite, she doesn't really mind.

How Dave eventually gets involved is up to you, but I would like him to get involved. ~~DP without anal would be great, but whatever works for you, I don't mind~~.

I apologize if the prompt is too specific or demanding. I'm not too good at this... ._.

It seems like there's something in Dirk's powers that involves making duplicate versions of himself: autoresponder, his dreamself that's always awake, Jake's dream splinter, Brobot, the things the one in Jake's dream said about Dirk's relationship to self...

So basically I mean I'd like somebody to write me Jake/Dirk/Dirk(dreamself)/Dirk(AR)/Dirk(Jake's splinter)/[Dirk(brobot)/Dirk(Bro)/Dirk(any other possible way Homestuck lets you have duplicates...)] And Jake is completely overwhelmed and loving it, of course.

Ohhh my gosh, you actually wrote Jake well (really really well), that in itself wins you so many kudos.

And the SMUT. Good god.

John: Show the other coder what you can do!

Alternatively - Sollux: Oh good griief, show thiis po2er how 2 do 2ome real codiing already.

Some sea trolls can lay eggs, but there isn't any obvious sign of which trolls they are. It's something they find out for themselves the first time they come into season at six sweeps. Generally they lose the first clutch, either because they just aren't developed enough to carry to term, or because they deliberately get rid of it. Bearers are considered weak, especially if they actually lay and if they fuck up they end up crippled and used as breeding stock, usually for either helmsman grade psionics (while they're being broken and trained) or indigos. But they are given a chance to prove themselves because the ones who don't fuck up tend to be so determined to prove themselves that they're spectacularly successful.

Going into season after a particularly successful FLARPing session with Vriska and the subsequent decision to abort his first clutch was a wake-up call for Eridan. He drops the idea of becoming Feferi's matesprit, and starts actually acting as her moirail, pushing her to take some responsibility instead of enabling her denial and dropping a lot of his desperate attempts to get her full attention. He also tries to convince her that an incremental improvement process is the best option, rather than trying to just abolish the hemospectrum without any real plans for societal reform.

When he finds out about Karkat's blood colour he basically threatens him into starting planning for a rebellion, including an alliance with Feferi to get highblood support for reform at least. Ultimately he wants attitudes towards bearers to change, and once he's a hero for his involvement in the rebellion he intends to carry a clutch for his quadrants.

Bonus if one of the reasons aborting his clutch bothered Eridan so much was because the three eggs would all have been shades of purple - one each indigo, violet and tyrian

You haven't seen or heard a thing from the 21st century wonder twins in hours, not since you finally picked Jane up and she threw herself right into Jake's arms and kissed him before she broke down sobbing. Of all of you she was probably the least prepared for the unbelievable levels of bullshit this game had to throw around. Jake kind of locked up and gave you panic eyes of the where do I put my hands? variety, as if you'd have the answer to that; you've cribbed everything you knew about human interaction out of movies, too. You were just more subtle about it.

Seemed like the best thing to do was shoo them off someplace where they could have an old Earth style feelings jam, while you got this beast of a mecha headed Roxy-ward. So that's you: keeping the plan moving, keeping the irons in the hottest part of the fire, clearing the path for mister dashing adventurer and miss gutsy gumshoe to have their action-romance and hopefully a happy ending. You had been trying to keep yourself from getting too into the idea of your own particular Jake English Hollywood ending, and that's been really tricky since you met up in person. Maybe having Jane around will give him some focus, so it won't be so hard for you to focus where you need to.

Which is on this damn game, and all the hard work you need to put into it. You don't have the luxury of pursuing the romance of your dreams here: you're this team's strategist and stage-setter and you have a lot of work to do. It's for the best that you don't get distracted. You reach up under your shades and rub your eyes, then try to focus on the viewscreen again.

Your hijacked sweet ride pings as the intercom turns itself on. "So if I'm doing the calculations right, and it's safe to assume I am since I'm vastly overpowered for a simple task like that, it'll take another five hours, give or take a few minutes, before we're in range to enter Roxy's world." It's a decent approximation of your voice. It's annoying to listen to.

"Sounds about right," you say.

"Five hours that could be accomplished with a pretty simple autopilot. Which I am not," AR says.

"Also true." You wait for him to get to the point.

"So those are five hours during which you, an organic being with baseline established needs for food and sleep, don't need to be sitting at the helm of this testosterone-enriched tin can." He sounds smug. You feel a faint twinge of pride, like always, that he's complex enough to convey deeply human things like smugness. "Leave this part to me and go get your squishy human self some snacks and a nap."

You frown. "There's always a chance of something going wrong on the way there," you argue. "We're fighting this one on a lot of fronts."

AR makes a noise that you think is supposed to mimic your own derisive snort. "There is a 98.1025% chance that my lasers and I can handle anything that goes wrong between here and the world gate."

"Your lasers, huh?" you ask. "I didn't think you were into embodiment."

"Being a battlemech gives a different perspective than being sunglasses."

"What's the percentage chance that I'm going to regret loading you into this thing, anyway?" you ask.

"Vanishingly small," he says dryly. You'd better hope he's right.

Still. He's his own self, but he's also you, and if you have to delegate responsibility, there's nobody else you'd rather hand it off to. "Okay. Give me an alert if anything weird comes up." You pry yourself out of the captain's seat and leave the Battlemech DRONEGORG in AR's capable metaphorical hands.

There's not a lot of space in this thing, despite how big it looks on the outside. Most of it is taken up with the mech's engine (weirdly biological, like the aliens' technology tends to be) and the various weapons and stabilizing systems that keep it on its ugly feet oppressing the locals. But there are a few empty spaces in its middle that were probably originally cargo bays, and they'll do for cabins for now.

You can hear voices from one of them, too quiet to make out details. The kids are getting along; that's good. You don't want to intrude, even if there aren't currently any sloppy makeouts going on. No reason to make it awkward again. You'll take the cargo cabin on the other side.

You dump the entire contents of the plush row of your sylladex, making a pile of shit soft enough to sleep in. Or at least soft enough to lie in wishing you were asleep. You try to at least keep the constant fretting focused in a direction where it might do some good: planning for the game, anticipating problems you might have, worrying about how you're going to keep your little team out of trouble. That's productive, right?

More productive than the other things you could be making yourself miserable over, anyway. You're happy for Jake. You're happy for Jane; god knows the poor girl has been obviously smitten for ages. And you made the choice to be unapproachable yourself. You had priorities, right? They were just so much easier to have when you were a few hundred years apart.

Jake hugged you when you met up in person—beamed at you, bright white smile against brown skin, and hugged you so hard your spine made cracking noises. It took a lot of fortitude not to kiss him right then and there. You would have been terrible at it, but he wouldn't have known better, and you could have—

You could have let yourself get distracted and ruin everything. You roll over in your pile and try to get control of your train of thought. Honestly, sometimes you think the AI versions of you are more tolerable than you-prime.

A clang on the metal wall interrupts your embarrassingly maudlin train of thought, and then Jake says, "Ah, knock knock?"

You roll over again. He's peering around the edge of the doorway, his hair a mess and his glasses crooked and you are stupid for this boy despite yourself. "Who's there?"

He grins. "Orange," he says.

It hurts so much to smile back but you do, because you can't not. "Orange who?"

There's a brief scuffle and then Jane appears beside Jake. "Orange you going to invite us in?" she asks.

"You're completely hopeless dorks, both of you," you tell them, but it doesn't make either of them stop grinning and you're out of your depth here, feeling too much and planning too little.

"That's no way for a gentleman to answer a lady's question, Strider," Jake says sternly.

You sit up, spreading your hands to indicate the grandeur of your surroundings, the echoing empty cargo bay and pile of lewd plush dolls. "Hey, my battlemech is your battlemech," you say. "I wouldn't dream of denying you."

Jake gives you a look that makes your face hot. "Damnably charming as always," he says. That's new. Damnable, sure, but since when does he think you're charming?

"That's enough of an invitation for me," Jane says, squaring her shoulders and setting her mouth in determination, like she's about to...what, storm you like a castle?

Close enough. She marches over and flops down next to you on the pile, eyes wide behind her glasses. "I don't think I thanked you properly for your help earlier," she says.

"Don't worry about it," you say. This was not part of your plan anywhere. "It's been a rough day all around."

"But you have been working your handsome posterior off to help the rest of us," Jake says as he sits down on your other side. "It really is all right to take a bit of credit for acts of heroism that you've actually performed." He's close enough that you'd swear you can feel his body heat. They both are.

You swallow hard and try to keep your cool. "Okay, as much as I'm thrilled at the opportunity to wind up the filling in a 21st-century goober sandwich, it has been a pretty long day, so if we could move this prank along to the punch line—"

"Dirk," Jane says, and puts her hand on yours. You shut up. Her palm is just the slightest bit damp. "It isn't a prank."

You look from her serious eyes to Jake's hopeful ones, and you think maybe you don't want her to let go of your hand. What comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know, man, I'm a pretty far cry from those blue-skinned alien ladies you go for."

"Oh, fuckbuckets, Dirk," Jake says, which is probably the most obscene thing you've ever heard, and shakes you into actually listening: "Would you stop acting as if I can only like one sort of person? I like all of my friends, I'll have you know."

You struggle valiantly for something witty to say so that you'll feel in control of the situation again. It feels like they must be able to hear your metaphorical gears grinding. "Okay," you say at last. "I'm in your hands."

They close in on either side of you like a thing that makes you forget how to make fabulous metaphors. They're so warm. Jane kisses your cheek and Jake slides an arm around your waist, and you close your eyes. Sure, there was always a chance, some percentage that you could bullshit right now if you wanted to, but it would have been a pretty low number even before you tossed in the extra variable of having both of them think this was a good idea.

Jake kisses your mouth. Your fingers slip under the hem of Jane's shirt. Everything is warmth and the smoothness of skin that's not yours, the smells of Jake's sweat and Jane's shampoo, the taste of their mouths, the slow fumbling exploration of their hands. Your own hands are shaking a little, but if they notice, they don't say so.

You wonder for a second as they combine forces to tug your shirt off over your head—what's this going to mean when you all make it to Roxy? And your instinct is to worry, to plan, to try to figure out all the contingencies. But there are wet kisses mapping the hammering pulse in both sides of your throat, and you think this time you can borrow a trick from Jake and just hope.

screeee this is beautiful, thank you so much

This is great. And I'm delighted to see the dronegorg already in action.

Jake introduces Dirk to the game Twister.

Another prompt where trolls with blood streaks in their hair are oviparous, but with a very different take on it. It's not limited to sea trolls this time, but it's much more common in sea trolls, and you never find any troll lower than cerulean with a blood streak.

Breeders appear in the following proportions:
Violets: one in nine
Indigos: one in eighty-one
Blues: one in six and a half thousand
Ceruleans: one in roughly 43 million

In theory one in two quadrillion (that's 2,000,000,000,000,000) teals will have the blood streak that marks a breeder, but it's never happened. Also in theory one in three tyrians should be a breeder, but every tryian Gl'bgolyth doesn't choose is murdered and by the Condense's orders Gl'bgolyth is never gets the chance to choose a breeder.

This is because breeders are bigger and stronger than any other troll - usually a third again as large as other trolls after they finish growing. And even before they mature they're stronger than they should be for their size. They don't start showing the size difference before they hit their final growth spurt at around seven or eight sweeps. Breeders are venomous, with something that acts as a paralytic and/or psionic suppressant depending on the dose and the victim.

Dualscar was the same size as normal trolls because when he was immature he was hurt badly enough that he ended up spayed - he lost his egg sacs and was left only capable of reproducing like a normal troll.

Different breeders will set up their households/relationships in different ways, and it would be seen as a political statement.

Breeders who keep harems, either an undifferentiated harem or one for the red quadrant and one for the black are usually considered traditionalists and tend to be fairly strong supporters of the Condesce - and she tends to encourage that by giving the weaker of the heiresses who challenge her and lose to them for their harems.

Sometimes breeders will keep harems but designate a red and black consort, or just designate the consorts. Consorts aren't 'equals' the way a kismesis or a matespirit is, and can't demand exclusivity the way a quadrant can, but they have more status than the concubines of a breeder's harems. These breeders tend to be seen as moderate to progressives.

Finally there's the breeders who end up with quadrants, or one quadrant and a harem/consort for the unfilled quadrant. These are seen as progressive to radicals depending on how many quadrants they have and who they fill the quadrant with.

Breeders who don't bother with harems, consorts or quadrants and just take temporary lovers in season are perceived as apolitical.

I don't care what you write in this world, I just want to see something about Eridan in this world, post-SGrub, non-SGrub AU, whatever. Maybe there's competition to 'belong' to a breeder because they hold a lot of power or maybe it's taken for granted that a breeder doesn't need to bother with quadrants, (s)he just takes whichever other trolls (s)he wants as seed donors. Because breeders are just as dangerous egg-heavy as at any other time, sometimes even more dangerous because it makes them more aggressive.

*tears up*

kanaya assumes that consuming blood won't have any negative effects on her body, as it is technically dead. turns out that it just takes a lot longer to work through her system.

basically i'd like to see her wake up one day to find that three years of wanton blood consumption has come back to haunt her. you can throw pairings in if you'd like, but i don't really care either way.

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Page 12 of 20

Homestuck Kink Meme: Act 2

Re: Nobody But Me (Eridan♠Nepeta, Explicit, NSFW) (2/2)

Re: Nobody But Me (Eridan♠Nepeta, Explicit, NSFW) (2/2)

Re: "a jewel in the scarlet crown," Karkat/Eridan, Karkat/Dualscar, slavery, forced breeding, 5/?

Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Meenah/Roxy [graphic non-con violence]

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Re: "a jewel in the scarlet crown," Karkat/Eridan, Karkat/Dualscar, slavery, forced breeding, 5/?

Highblood Philanthropy [Vriska/Tavros [Non-Con, Mind Control, Asphyxiation]

Re: Separation Anxiety (Roxy+Gamzee, AU, ownership, M, 4/4)

Re: Separation Anxiety (Roxy+Gamzee, AU, ownership, M, 4/4)

Davesprite/Jade/Dave

Jake/Dirk/Dirk/Dirk/Dirk....

Re: "tomb raiders," Jake/Dirk

John/Sollux or John + Sollux

Eridan/anyone, Bearers and politics, implied mpreg and rape

"wonder twins," Jane/Dirk/Jake

OP

Re: "wonder twins," Jane/Dirk/Jake

Dirk/Jake

Breeders are terrifying, mpreg, dub-con and slavery

Re: "wonder twins," Jane/Dirk/Jake

kanaya, weight gain