aks-of-the-weak

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: I believe the meaning of life is to be true to yourself. Identity, through whatever eyes, is always the product of Nature and Culture and naught but Nature and Culture. If there is a Third Source which can inform in any part any given action or perception, than that could possibly be that "True Self" which i seek. This is why i welcome the fact that nobody reads my shitty homestuck fanfiction, it means that writing it is something purposeless, something motivated neither by the Fiery Pulses of Nature, nor the Cold Calculations of Culture. If you think this is overly dramatic, then yes. Yes it is.

7th Post: Taurdeus, Sign of the Author. And would you look at that, i've already started writing bullshit.

Constellation: This is one of the more convoluted signs i've made (and liked). There's a lot you can want to see in it if you wanna. Like, maybe you see a little man jumping in the shadow of the lines. Or maybe that's a flower, the lower shadows are two leaves and the circle is the underside of a petal. But that doesn't explain the lines in the upper-right and upper-left corners. Honestly i'm kinda stumped. The "deus" suffix is an interesting angle. Translated literally from latin, "Taur deus" means "Bull God". By that logic every Bronze sign could be translated to Bullsomething, but i'm struggling here, so give me a break. There's a lot of animals in the Bovidae family that don't have an official constellation irl such as Bisons, Buffalos, Antelopes. Yeah, did you know that Antelopes are a kind of Bovine? Not really what you think of when you think of the Cow's cousin, eh? There's a particular species of Antelope that has four horns (and looks dope as fuck). The sign also has 4 of that "pickaxe shape", but the four-horned antelope's horns are small, straight and sharp, not big and curvy, so i don't think it fits. Ultimately, it comes down to the Constellation metaphor. The Hope aspect and the "the author" title point to themes of the imaginary and creative work, whereas the bulky overloaded symbol points to the theme of "burden". So the metaphor is "the creative burden", someone born under taurdeus's constellation is someone who has difficulty realizing their creative aspirations and someone who has trouble separating creative works from their real life, be that their own works or other. In that sense, of the above options the buffalo makes the most sense, i think. Bisons have larger heads and comparatively smaller horns than buffalos, plus buffaloes have curvier horns more akin to the sign's shape. So the Buffalo constellation it is. I tried to make the constellation with a lot of stars since the sign has a lot of lines itself.

Physicality: When i tried to leave a character's gender ambiguous until i developed them more they ended up settling as NB, and that kinda pissed me off. I'd rather make a character be NB explicitly than have them be that way because i fucked up and couldn't decide. That's to say, i'll be setting gender from the start from now on, and this one's gonna be a girl, because i have too many boys already. With a sign like that, the First thought was "This troll needs fuckhuge horns that burdens her head", right? But i already did that with Bahkos, plus there's another fuckhuge-horns-looking bronze sign coming up eventually, so here's an alternative idea: This troll has much denser and harder horns than normal, so despite them not being properly gigantic they still put a great burden on her neck. The shape of it is that of a Cape Buffalo's horn, with the horns forming a sort of helmet on top of her head. Since her horns are so heavy, she probably wants less mass elsewhere, so her hair is really short. So what else is there to consider? In terms of psionics, we have no psionics. In terms of weapons, we have no weapon. This troll, you see, is a little weakling. She has no combat skills, no supernatural abilities, no charisma to lead or conquer. She is a tiny little weakling who i could squash easily with one hand. Very murderable.

Backstory: So how does a troll get through alternian life, all the way to exile, with such an eminently crushable spine? Well, let's do some worldbuilding. You see, many trolls believe in soulmates. That for each each quadrant there is one other troll that is truly destined to them (that's canon, not something i made up). So, if even an heiress falls in love with a lowly burgundy, as long as she claims "it's the work of fate" other high-bloods won't find her fault. For a lowblood, this arrangement can be highly beneficial and as such they will gain the derogatory nickname of "Jewel". Richel Cullan is one such Jewel. Moirail to one Purple blood powerful even amongst Purple bloods, she never had to fight or scavenge for a day in her life. She had all expenses unlimited and most of her 9 sweeps on alternia were spent indulging in entertainment media. Novels, Movies, Television, Video Games, and Arts of many kind. In those times, Richel amassed a truly remarkable collection of media, some rare, some banned, some unique. She helped preserve those works by making copies and distributing them online. And she was proud of that work. Once she went off-world, she hoped to pull on her moirail's influence to become an imperial librarian helping to manage the empire's archives, a task generally assigned to teal bloods, but not outside of lower caste's reach. 

But on one night, her hope shattered. Her moirail had solidified his power over the sweeps, accruing a whole retinue of subordinates, both loyal and fearing. Mostly fearing. What woke Richel from her dreams that night was the heat of the flames covering half the neighborhood, ex-allies battling in the streets over who would be the new boss, and a mob banging at the door, wanting something to make a show of the death of the old regime. "Your Moirail is dead, Jewel" one of them yelled as pieces of the door fell to the floor. Richel never got to know how, exactly, her moirail died. She barely made it out of that hive and out of that town with the help of a mysterious stranger she had bonded with the night before. She spent the next two weeks experiencing the alternia she never knew, desperately escaping wild beast and murderous trolls, barely scavenging enough food to live off of. She wouldn't have lasted much longer had the drones not picked her off for her exile. Of her once great collection she barely had a small box left, which she had clung to desperately even wading through the alternian mud. With no on-record accomplishment, no powers or skills, no influence with highbloods, not even any belongings, the career paths for Richel were nil. After receiving a standard-issue rifle and combat uniform, she was shipped to the frontline to serve as cannon fodder.

But she survives! Two Sweeps later, she is still there, her hard-as-a-helmet horns having saved her from more than one close call. Her combat performance are nothing impressive, but her infantrymates have gotten to calling her "the dead girl", because under a rain of explosions she still sleeps deeply as a corpse. They don't know how she does it. But i do, dear reader. She sleeps so deeply because even now, she still dreams.

Excipit: Aaaand that's a wrap. This one was such a fiasco. I wrote Constellation and Physicality, and then i tried writing a Short Story because i loved the short story last time, but this time it just didn't work. Short stories are a cool way to characterize a personality, but this time i had a whole backstory to jam in there and it ended up meandering and going nowhere. So i had to cut it. And now i was sitting there, with the character fully characterized from the process and only half the post written. I sat on that for like three months because i couldn't be fucked until just tonight. And the whole time it was sitting on my mind, i was going "oh, i have free time, i should finish the post", but then i'd go "nah, i have to wake up early tomorrow" or get distracted by other projects. That said, i really do enjoy this writing format. I always have a blast writing each part of it, when i can get to it. This excipit is way too long, Aks.

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: I'm sick. Not actually sick, not covid sick, just the little kind of sick where the nose runs a bit and the throat is a bit sore and the brain heats a bit too much to be doing arcane mathematics for Godot shaders. so here i come instead. Writing Homestuck OCs. My beloved.

Aquassa, Sign of the Stylist: This one's pretty abstract looking.

Constellation: Turns out a Stylist is a pretty vague job, right? Most commonly it's a hairdresser, but anyone who arranges things to be stylish is a stylist. Let's start by going down the Hair path. Hair has some association with magic in popular culture, but i'm not so sure what it is or where it comes from. Aquacin, the Knotted Wand was alledgedly a "mystical" constellation as well, so maybe a magic theme can be a unifying trait amongst Violet constellations. Ok, future Aks here. I didn't find shit. Mostly it's vague witchcraft shenanigans about connecting a non-descript spell with yourself. There's always the myth of Samson, but i'm not a big fan of the Bible.

Hmmm. Let's take this from another perspective. I know i want this troll to be a parallel to Maipur because of their opposing aspects, sways and hemospectral status. Maipur is a Landscaper, at least in name, and by the "anyone who makes things stylish" definition a Landscaper is a kind of stylist. If the metaphor of Artist's constellation was "Skill honed through trained repetition", then Aquassa should be a denial of that. Not "Skill from inborn talent", that's too boring. Maybe Holisticism? "Things will always end up fitting together by themselves". Characterizing a character by "Skill honed through trained repetition" means characterizing them not just by "trained repetition", but before that by their need to be skilled in the first place. So the opposite of that is a character characterized by not needing to be skilled. But i'm not diving into the character yet. Constellation, constellation! While i was spitballing about hair i had the idea of a "hair-cutting constellation". The circle on the right would be the head, the bar on the left the cut-off hair and the bar separating the two would be the scissors.  But with the new thematic this doesn't really work anymore. So, what object is Holistic? What object will function by itself? After some thinking i've settled on a Fruit Tree. A Fruit Tree is a lot more independent than a crop, i think. You don't have to replant it after every harvest and they're more resilient to changes of weather and temperatures. Official constellations don't have any plants, so some might say a fruit tree isn't appropriate for a constellation, but to me that just means it's new grounds to explore.

Physicality: First thing, as a carry-over from the Hair-based brainstorming this troll will have long straight hair. Genuinely long, going down to his ankles. And mimicking that hair, his horns are also long, thin and pointy, starting from his forehead, curving over the top of his head and ending up behind his nape, meaning if he tries to look upwards he risks stabbing himself in the neck. He's supposed to be a parallel to Maipur, so an Idea would be his strifekind would be a mundane object like how Maipur fights with a Paintbrush. Scissors is the obvious answer, but i'm trying to move away from the hair thematic, so i'll go with Shears instead. Clothing-wise, he's a proper noble in fancy clothing. He wears a long cape on his back colored dark-violet on the inside which gives him a sort of Dracula-type look. As for Psionic powers... 

Lore: « Throughout history it has been the common understanding that sea dwellers  cannot manifest psionic abilities. From this assumption, many theses have sprouted throughout academic circles. Sometimes, the naturally strong and psychically resistant constitutions of violetbloods hinder the mitosis of echocerebral cells during the larval and prelarval stages of development. Sometimes it's the process of anti-senescent regeneration which consumes psioactive agents in the blood. These are interesting theories worthy of a profound examination, but in this text, i would like to linger upon the possibility that the assumption itself is flawed. If, hypothetically, violetbloods could manifest psionic phenomenons, what sort of properties could we observe in them? Well, for one, by looking at the concentration of vascular molybdenum [...]

In conclusion, if Violet Psionic Manifestations were possible, they would be on the extremely trained end of the spectrum, further even than Chucklevoodoo and Catharametry. Perhaps completely opposite from Indigo's wholly innate "Mutations". They would have to be Fast in activation, almost as much as Burgundy Psionics, but also Short-reached in effect, somewhere just below Teal Manifestations. Most importantly, we must not forget the Sociological aspect of it. If it is a power that has remained undocumented, it is likely that it is one that can be fully or greatly utilized while remaining undetected. » - George Wiccus, 956, Encyclopedic Catalogue of Psionic Manifestations in Trollkind and Related Faunas, Volume 6, p.4-13, Never published.

Short Story:

You stand before a large orchard. Behind you is an ornate gate of black metal. Forward, on the other side of the orchard, looms a dark, dark mansion. So dark it could disappear with just the gloom of the dusk. As soon as you passed through the gate, this one Sea Dweller came out of the mansion and started walking towards you. You thought you'd wait around, you know how much these jackasses care about manners and whatnot, but the little shit sure is taking his sweet time. You've been here about 15 minutes and he's barely gotten closer. You're pretty sure he stopped to prune one of his trees at some point. So, what the hell, you lean back against a tree and take out your machete. He sends you a death glare like he thinks you're gonna start hacking at his trees or something. If bitch had objections, bitch shouldn't have been 300 meters away. The base of the blade is made of flint, so you knock a piece of steel on it and use the spark to light your cigarette. That's all you need it for, man. You put it back and he mellows out. Good to know you exist, at least.

Another 30 minutes pass where you're just chillin. You've been hopping planet to planet throughout the outskirts of the empire trying all the different cigarettes you could get your mitts on, and you gotta say, these ones are preeetty good. The way the smoke kinda grips at your throat, then lets go, like scratching an itch your hands could never reach. What was it, Xoribon-, Xorabok-, Xoripokics? You can't read the shit that's on the box. Anyways, Solid A-Tier to whatever it's name was. Not quite on the level of the Artisanal Cadaczan Ballots in S-tier, now there's the ultimate form of tobacco. As for Troll Cigs, of course, most of them belong in the F tier. They take a larva, dig a hole in it, stuff it with random chemical products and call it a day. They don't even wrap it or anything, pretty sure one of them you tried had plastic glitter in it. Absolute disgrace. The olives got some good shit, but half the time it's laced with some crazy bullshit that'll send you to death's door. That's how it is with your species, they've got no vision, no artistry, and when they ever do it's a shallow attempt at upping numbers on a—

"I trust you are Maipur Lenote."

You turn your head towards towards the haughty aristocrat who finally finished his mosey. What, is this bitch being impatient now?

"That's me"

"Your earlier taunt was in quite bad taste. Do not do it again."

You pull out the machete and turn the flat of the blade towards him so that he can clearly see where the metal turns to rock.

"It was no taunt, sir. This is all i've got on me to light a cig. I don't carry lighters, y'see, makes it too easy for some psions out there."

Lies. You doubt he'll buy it, but set a trap and you might catch a prey, set a hundred and you surely will. The aristocrat frowns.

"Irrelevant. Walk with me."

Damn, this guy's bossy. You put out your cigarette on your fireproof jacket and stuff it in your pocket. You might be a killer, but you're no litterer. The violetblood begins to walk and you follow.

"I've heard formidable stories about you. Taking on entire groups at once, taking on highbloods, taking on powerful psions and weaponmasters alike."

They always start with that. You don't know why they think you'd be flattered to hear that. You don't know why they think you're proud of killing hundreds.

"I've also heard you're an aficionado of the arts, a master of painting, gardening, scenic landscaping. Remarkable."

Ok, well, now you're blushing a little. He gestures to the fruit trees all around.

"As you see, I am something of botanist myself. My collection collection contains specimens from all over the galaxy, and beyond. I hear this one is even from another universe altogether."

He stops and points to a tree filled with red berries.

"I do know the claim sounds far fetched, but i do not believe it is not unfounded as i obtained the saplings from one man of great wisdom and class. Not the kind to spout petty lies. Have you met him, perchance?"

Bro bought some random tree marked up from a scammer in fancy clothes. You swear, violets are so easy to trick. You just shrug as an answer and he seems content with it.

He reaches his arm into his long cape and draws out a pair of pruning shears. A classic trick, hiding one's hands to pretend you're getting an item from physical storage when really you're just pulling it out of your strife deck or sylladex. If anything it gives you more information than he gains. Bad move, bitch. He uses the shears to prune a branch filled with berries and hands it to you.

"It's unfortunate, had you arrived half a season earlier you could've seen it in its flowering state. It blooms with bright pink petals that fall with the sway of the winds. Quite the regal sight. Care for a sample?"

Bitch. You just like calling this guy a bitch.  In your mind. He has a really callable-a-bitch face. But anyways, you accept and captachalogue the branch. Then you reply:

"To be honest, i didn't think you called me here to talk about this type of work."

"Ah, yes. I suppose it is for 'work' that i have let you enter the premises. So tragic how rarely 'work' aligns with 'interest'."

You both resume walking. You thought he was going to continue with something, but he just keeps walking in silence and looking at his trees. Now piping back in is awkward, but you do it anyway.

"You want me to kill someone."

"Hmm, no, not exactly. There is a group. More a ragtag posse of societal rejects than any sort of real organization. Their leader stole one of my ships and now they are traversing the cosmos, tracking an item we wish to have for ourselves. For my part i wish nothing more than to see him charred husk on the floor, but..."

He hesitates.

"My moirail, you see, used to be matesprit with him. And well, with all the pale affection i have for her in my collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, objectively speaking, she is... Shall we say...

Batshit fucking insane, on her better days. She would have his legs cut off at the knee and nailed to the ground, the lids of his eyes surgically removed so that he may never avert his gaze, and then all of his good friends slowly killed off in front of him while he begs with the regret of having ever 'betrayed' her. Or so she says."

You really wish you could take or dismiss jobs based on morality sometimes, but that's not a luxury that's often affordable when one is in the business of contract killings. You've got a lot of people on your tail, especially right now, and if you want to live another sweep you're going to need the cash and means this guy is willing to part with.

"Well, i'm not asking you to go so far. Just making sure most of them die will be enough. Personally, i'm interested in however much closer you can bring us to the aforementioned item. Find us even an inch of information and you shall have rewards beyond value"

Fancy nobles and their metaphorical ramblings. What could he possibly have to give better than Money. You keep walking towards the mansion in silence. You'd like to think the years have toughened you, molded you into this hard-boiled lethal mercenary that knows no pity and no remorse and yaddi yaddi yadda, but the truth is it still sticks to you. The screams of agony, of visceral hate, even from people who would laugh doing the same. You hate things that stick to you. Sometimes you wish a great wave of death would swoop away through the galaxy and wash away every troll and their starships clinging to the void of space and let them crash down on the sun and planets all around. And only you would be left. Civilizations of the entire universe would cheer and start anew. They'd make art and products more beautiful and pleasant than your entire species has even tried to produce in the thousands of years of its slaughterous existence. And you'd be left jumping from planet to planet, seeing it all, trying as much as you can with the time in this world that is actually yours to u—

"May i ask a question?"

Ugh, hasn't he talked enough?

"Shoot"

"There are millions of low bloods, fighting and killing each other, right now and at any given moment. No doubt you've been amongst them at one point. But where they have confronted death twice, thrice, maybe a dozen times, you've met countless more foes, some outclassing you in number, in sheer strength, in psionics. What is it that makes it you came out on top, and they perished?"  

You consider answering with something stupid, that a noble would like, like "idk, i guess i'm just better", but in your walk, obnoxiously slow though it was, you've grown just a smidgen of respect for the man and his strange passion for arboreal botany. Here you were, thinking shit about your species' sense of artistry, might as well say something worthwhile.

"I think it's just luck. No matter how skilled, strong and prepared you are, at the end of the day you enter a battle with some amount of unknown information. Everyone risks death, i've just been lucky enough to hit twelve on every roll of my d—"

"WRONG!"

His scream makes you take a step back. Shadow hits your face. Dusk has set. The sun is now behind the Mansion.

"It is because you are better, Lenote!"

Its mass cannot be distinguished from its shadow which has now passed your head and runs ever deeper from whence you came.

"Highbloods are stronger than Lowblood, Psions are stronger than Mundanes, Number is stronger than being alone."

You now realize that at some point the man shifted from leading the walk to walking besides you. He takes a step closer to you, or so you think. It's too dark, you can't be sure.

"And you, Maipur Lenote, could come all this way to my doorstep because your talent with the flame and the blade, because your cunning as killer, it allowed you survive even without those cheap advantages of circumstances."

You could swear he has gotten taller. But you could not, you cannot see. You hear movement from where he is, but it's not his, it's something else. Is there a beast there, with him, in the shadows? An alien? Why would it not sneak up from behind you? Throughout this talk you've been certain you could kill him with relatively little risk if need be, but now you're not so sure.

"We ask this job of you, Maipur Lenote, not because you are some petty mercenary. But because you are an Artist. with Death."

It's lunging towards you. You take out your machete and swing in the air. You hit nothing. You equip your Giant Paintbrush and the steel plate under its hairs is hit by the flint of the machete. Sparks fly. It ignites the tar coating your brush. Light again.

He is just standing there. Normal Sized. No beast anywhere. Nothing lunging at you. Just a bitch with a smug face while you're flipping the fuck out.

"Is there a problem, Maipur Lenote?"

"Uh, yeah, it's dark as shit in here. I was just getting us some light."

"Ah, I see. I happen to have excellent nocturnal vision, so i don't always notice these things. My apologies."

Excellent nocturnal vision my ass, you think. His pupils were completely undilated, there's no way he could see shit in there. Finally, you reach the manor's patio.

"We have arrived."

He opens the door and signals you to get in.

"Come on in, the rest of The Court is eagerly awaiting to meet you."

"You're not gonna ask me to leave my weapons at the door?"

"Of course not, we have manners."

You step through the doorframe. As the doors closes behind you, you think back to your talk with that man. Or rather, the one he has had with you. You think that, in your little game furriers, you might have ended up the prey.

Excipit: Gods damn, i love writing. You forget how fun this shit is when you start thinking about how you "should write" instead of actually doing it. I've cut the Lusus and Personality section. The former, i think i'm doing away with since it's not relevant most of the time. Ajiana Carcha (this guy) had a very weak mosquito-type lusus who died from getting crushed/killed when he was pretty young. It broke his heart really badly </3. That's enough lusus info, imo, maybe i'll integrate it into Physicality for future posts. Personality i'm not doing away with, but when you've got such an extensive short story, plus for an antagonist who you generally want to keep mysterious more than a protagonist, i think it's not necessary. I dream of a day where i'll be able to just say stupid non-sequiturs in the Excipit. Instead most of it is taken up on the actual subject of the post. Ugh, so annoying.

[aks-of-the-weak]

The Vane

Post for directions throughout my Blog

Resources

Sign Tutorial: how to draw Troll Signs with Vectorial Art Cheat Sheet: All direct mentions of Classes' active/passive alignment + list of additional mentions of Class Features and Behaviors.

Troll Sign Improv Writing (Homestuck)

Taurdeus, Sign of the Author -Constellation: Bufalus, The Buffalo -Troll: Richel Cullan. A weakling nerd on the front-lines of war. Had an easy upbringing. Is now having a difficult adulthood.

Aquassa, Sign of the Stylist -Constellation: Fructus Arboris, The Fruit Tree -Troll: Ajiana Carcha, A Hurryless Aristocrat affiliated with The Court. He hired Maipur to hunt down The Crew. His powers and purposes are a mystery.

Scorpine, Sign of the Wily -Constellation: Rotaventi, The Windmill -Troll: Bahkos Imhopt, A makeshift Engineer with a penchant for Alcohol and Bitter Frustration.

Artist, Sign of the Artist -Constellation: Candelabrum, The Candlestick -Troll: Maipur Lenote, Massacres their enemies and reshapes Landscapes with each ruthless sweep of their Giant Firepaintbrush. They have a pretty dark past.

Gemolorn, Sign of the Potent -Constellation: Oculumusca, The Human-eyed Fly -Troll: Beluth Kycain, A lanky cowboy girl with a bizarre gaze. Weilds five 5-chambered revolvers at once with her short-range telekinesis.

Aquacin, Sign of the Ravel -Const: Nodum, The Knotted Wand -Troll: Rodney Cabbal, Stalwart Leader of The Crew who always makes important decision with unshakeable confidence… or so it appears. In truth he has no idea what he's doing and is wracked with Doubt and Anxiety.

Sagipyre, Sign of the Herald -Constellation: Transiliens Ballaenam, The Whale Skipper -Troll: Tomhad Ziphid, The brawn of The Crew. A mutation allows them to shoot acidic lasers that can melt anything. Can get pretty arrogant if not kept in check.

[aks-of-the-weak]

I made this cheat sheet to every Direct Mention of a class's active/passive alignment today.

In above, i've excluded everything like interpretation of characters' behaviors or of subtext, mentions of a character being active/passive and mentions of classes in ways that don't directly indicate activeness or passiveness. I do also want to keep a more general track of those subtexts and generic mentions of classes, so i'll make a list of them below and might update as i find more. I'll quote relevant parts where it's shorter and leave entire pages at the page reference. {And leave my personal comments in brackets like so}

Homestuck Proper: Calliope on Rogues, Calliope on Princes, Aradia on Knights and Seers: p.4514, 4564, 4354 - {Mentioned above, but there's more i haven't quoted.} Scratch on Seers: p.3832-3835 - {Too long to be quoted. It's unclear exactly to what extent Doc is talking about "A Seer", "A Seer of Mind" and "Terezi", respectively. } Brain Ghost Dirk on Pages: p.4875 - "Pages have a lot of untapped potential. That's practically all there is to the class, actually. But when they eventually find it, look out." Aranea on Sylphs: p.6553 - "I am a very powerful Sylph of Light. I have had millions of sweeps to hone my abilities. As one gifted with the aspect of light, certain outcomes will be prone to breaking in my favor. And as an ancient, highly experienced sylph, I wield an unprecedented ability to heal. A doomed timeline is really just an anatomical feature of a much larger organism. Like a capillary which comes to an end, because it has withered and died. I believe I will be able to heal this offshoot. And with enough time and patience, I am confident I can restore its vitality to such a great extent, it will effectively take over as the alpha timeline, thus reducing English to a lost footnote of paradox space." - {Obviously that last thing didn't happen, but she did end up making the Game-Over timeline take over as the alpha timeline. She just didn't understand the implications of that within Paradox-Space's framework.} AH on... Clowns?: p.5484 - "It means crazy clowns just won't die for some reason. In adventures such as yours, they tend to linger long past their welcome. They linger and linger and linger, and just when you think you're totally fed up with their bullshit and you can't take another second of it, they just linger some more. And you never know what they're up to, and they're always scheming in the shadows, and it's quite possible that whatever master plan they're hatching just doesn't make the slightest bit of sense at all. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how stupid the clown's schemes are, or how sick of him everybody is. He just. Won't. Die." - {This is sort of my crackpot theory, but i believe this passage is a subtextual explanation of the Bard as a character archetype. Essentially a Jester staying in the shadow of its king. }

Beyond Canon: Got nothing beyond what's in the sheet

Q&A: On how Lunar Sway relates to Active/Passive Classes: p. - http://wheals.github.io/tumblr/tumblr.html#post25156009290q1 - {In the cheat sheet, but as before, there's more}

Book Commentary: On Aradia and Vriska: Book 4, p.143 - "Aradia's extremely passive nature as a ghost makes her an easy target for this kind of overbearing attention." - {Hussie is commenting on aradia, not Maids, but the language is pretty strong}

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: Originally, I made these posts as an exercise in botching. That is to say, trying to get these concepts across briefly and with minimal effort rather than obsessively retouching every minute detail. But considering the last one had the entire Personality section be the tragic backstory from childhood to adulthood of an edgy Mass-Murderer/Mercenary, i'm fairly confident i failed at achieving simplicity. But in the wise words of Michael Guy Bowman: "I'm never gonna stop / Never gonna stall / Never see me drop / Never see me fall / […] I'm never gonna break / Never gonna lose / Never gonna lose, never gonna lose / Never gonna lose, never gonna lose / Never gonna lose, never gonna lose". Thank you Michael. Truly you are a lyrical genius.

5th Post: Scorpine, the Sign of the Wily. desu-ne~.

Constellation: Well, it looks like a windmill doesn't it~? You have the four windmill flap thingies and then the tilde (~) is a gust of air pushing it to turn. But then why is it a Light sign? If it's pushed by Air then it should be a Breath sign, and if it mills grain that's food, a Life sign. What aspect of a Windmill is Wily? Here's what i think. The windmill is a human construct, it's a machine made through knowledge to harness nature itself for their purpose. And in that way, it's easy to craft a metaphor for Wile. The strong winds of nature are direct and simple in their motion, pushing forward with singular strength. But on their way, they meet a Windmill, a complex machine which tricks them into putting their strength towards its own goal. In that sense, the windmill is like a toll collector, taxing just a bit of strength from every wind that passes by. This is all good stuff to put in the later sections' salads.

Lusus: Ehhh, does the lusus even matter? A crow is pretty wily. A monkey is pretty wily. let's just botch something simple in like a monkey with the legs of a crow, the body of an antlion and the mane of a lion. Antlion larvae build traps out of sand, see, they dig in a spiral into the ground, creating a pit that captures nearby passing insects. Just as windmills capture the strength of the wind. This is definitely a sane thing to say. I am not deranged. Case in point, i've made this thing: (see below). Gods, he's so dumb. I bet he cooks ravioli but takes out the fillings first. Painstakingly cuts each one open with his dumbass little crow claws then only cooks the pasta part. And then he adds tomato sauce on top because "it's just too bland", yeah bitch of course it's bland THATS WHY THERES FILLING IN IT. Whatever, over it. Moving on to the next part. I bet he won't even matter to the character's story.

Physicality: I've decided this one's gonna be a boy, because if i make my first cobalt a wily light-bound girl it's just going to end up being Vriska again. So what do we got? Windmill, Deceit, Traps, Redirection of power. Starting with something simple, strifekind. How about my guy fights with bear traps. He just has a bear trap, or one in each hand and when he punches with them they close up. And that's how he fights. Trolls don't have that much mechanical engineering, do they? They have very advanced biological engineering: their computers are bugs, their vehicles are bugs, even their spaceships are powered by psionic powers and look like they could very well be bugs. The most we have is Vikare, who built the shittiest plane. And he built it out of BONES. But then again equius builds robots, so maybe Vikare is just stupid. Or poor. So here's what i think, this troll will be a builder. A builder that actually builds structures out of wood and stone and metal, but since Alternia usually leaves that stuff to the drones, he doesn't have the best knowledge for it. They're just sort of an amateur figuring out the laws of pressure and hardness and tension out of trial and error. This already brings to mind a very grunge-and-grime type of character who gets hurt a lot. So obviously, at some point he figured out if he wanted to keep doing this stuff he also had to keep being alive. His main noticeable accessory is a hard hat. He used to have huge horns, tall as his height and shaped like the arm of a windmill, but early in life, he cut them off at the base to be able to crawl in tight spaces and wear his hard hat. Because he was meant to have such huge horns, his body ended up growing very small, so, he's just a little guy. He has this big plate of thick wood as a sort of overalls/armor on his torso and it carries his symbol over it. Why is it wood? Maybe he doesn't know how to make such a big piece out of stone or metal. Or maybe the wood is just harder, i hear oak can be as hard as iron. Either way, it's a real crude piece of gear, just a big slab of wood held to his torso by a bunch of ropes. Maybe belts? The point is the hard hat and the plate isn't made with fancy complex materials or a sophisticated structure, it's one or two materials, stuck together with rope or metal bits that rattle when you shake them. He's not a Paragon of his species revolutionizing construction work. He's just some guy who likes to put beams together. Finally, obviously, he's ripped as fuck. Like, his protective equipment is just raw material, it weighs a ton. He has to transport materials all the time for his constructions. It's clear my man is jacked.

Lo- Lore?!?: I do want all these characters to be part of a cohesive universe, and ideally a cohesive narrative. So here's what i've thought up. The setting is the Post-scratch Troll Universe (A2), ~2 years before the reckoning by Karkat and his group. Our protagonists are a small crew of trolls aboard a ship not built of chitin and powered by psionics, but built of metal, powered by burning fuel. This is very atypical for trolls. Our crew doesn't understand how to pilot their ship or how to do half the things it can do. At their helm is the crew's captain, Rodney Cabbal (Aquacin), highest on the hemospectrum amongst the crew, but also highly regarded for his competence and his rapid decision-making. A Violetblood leader who's respected by his crew is also atypical for trolls. Inside tho, he's a ball of stress, has no idea what's happening most of the time and makes decisions at random, then acts like whatever happens was all according to plan. The firepower of the crew is his longtime friend Tomhad Ziphid (Sagipyre), who starts blasting acidic lasers whenever things get too hot to handle in a way that can be solved by acidic lasers. And finally, the only person who has a minimal understanding of how the ship even works is Bakhos Imhopt (Scorpine), our current character. Beluth Kycain (Gemolorn) and Maipur Lenote (Artist) are separate independent actors that don't come up just yet.

Short Story: Bakhos: "Captain!" Rodney Cabbal spins in his rotating chair to face Bahkos. He doesn't say a word, staring him down from the height of his seat. Bakhos: "The ship is running low on fuel, we have to go down on an inhabited planet and find more if we want to keep it running." "Can't we just turn it off and let it rest for a bit", thinks Rodney, but he doesn't say a thing. Tomhad: "Can't we just turn it off and let it rest for a bit?" Bahkos sends them a look filled with condescension. Bakhos: "It's not psionic power, Tom. We burn the fuel to propel the ship forward. That's how it works." Tomhad: "Well there's our problem! Stop burning our fuel if it propels us forward. What the hell!" Bahkos wipes his palm on his face and makes a low grunt. Rodney: "Tom. Burning the fuel is how we get it to push us forward. It's not a sacrifice we can do without." Bakhos: "Thank you!" "Our fuel is dead trees, right? That must be how it works, they use the fire to scare the tree's ghosts into pushing the ship. You'd have to kill off a few from time to time to make sure they keep being scared. That makes sense", thinks Rodney. He rises up and walks to the cockpit window, appearing deep in thought in front of the vastness of space. Tomhad: "I still think we should try not killing the fuel." Bahkos sends them a stare filled with hatred. Bakhos: "Grrrrr" Tom is kind of weirded out by the growling, but before they can say anything Rodney walks back to the captain's seat, points to the only planet big enough to be visible from the window and presses the intercom button. Rodney: "Attention all crew, we'll be initiating a landing on the nearest planet within moments. Standby at your assigned positions, over" He releases his finger from the button Bakhos: "Captain, that was the general fire emergency button" He spins towards Bahkos again and sends him a confident smile Rodney: "And are we not in an emergency for fire?" "Got it, not the intercom", he thinks

Personality: It's always easier (maybe even the only way) to write a character by actually writing it in a story rather than by theory. There's a lot we can get from Bakhos here. He's exasperated with his crewmates' (especially Tom's) lack of understanding of the ship and that feeds into a vicious cycle since he also isn't willing to explain any of it. He clearly has a lot of anger inside, maybe not the funnest person to have at parties, but a fun kismesis. The growling is a quirk to help him express that anger. It's not super thematically relevant, but, i mean, y'know, dogboys are cute, right? I think it's an anger that's a lot more real, a lot less theatrical, than Karkat's for comparison. So Bakhos is actually genuinely a bit of a dick with a nasty attitude. Maybe his arc comes down to learning to be less brutal with people around him, or realizing that being mean can also have a genuinely evil impact on others and that makes him go "Wow, no, I don't want to be like that" so he ends up trying hard to present a better face. Finally, I generally try to find some kind of deep reference for the name each time. From Homestuck, "Vantas" is a drug for treating prostate cancer, "Leijon" is Swedish for lion. "Bahkos" references something else, but by coincidence it ends up similar to Bacchus, Roman god of wine (equivalent to Dionysus), so Bahkos could be an alcoholic, right? But trolls don't have alcohol, Kanaya was pretty mystified at seeing Rose drunk, so, this could be another piece of non-troll culture Bahkos has adopted. Like the spaceship and the makeshift crafting, he got into drinking from the Spaceship's wine cave. Guy has issues, i guess.

Excipit: I think i'm retconning "Beartrapkind" for the strife specibus to just malletkind. He ended up a pretty complete character, he doesn't really need a gimmicky strifekind. Otherwise, the exercise in botching was pretty failed this time around again. I wrote the entire physicality section going "Trolls are stupid cavemen, they no have physical science, only bug tech and psychic tech" and then i reread it and went "What the fuck are you talking about. This completely goes against HS canon" so i had to rewrite it to only be that to an ambiguous extent. If his technology is shitass it's because the drones… what, withhold it? But not from Equius who builds robots? or trolls have the technology to make robots but not spaceships? The whole story section relies on trolls not knowing what fuel is, but that is only burnable fuel and only for the purpose of a machine. They know how to make fires/explosions, they know how to power a machine/vehicle, but they don't power machines/vehicles with fires/explosions. But then what are Vriska's rocket boots? A lost piece of technology? Psychic fire? Probably my fancanon is busted already as soon as inception, but whatever. The excipits are supposed to be short. Cut.

[aks-of-the-weak]

How do you make the troll zodiac signs? >asking for a tutorial if that's comfortable for you>

It's a bit ungodly long and rambly but i did end up making it. I had a fun time, hopefully this is helpful in any way.

The TL;DW is: Use a vectorial art program. Keep the width of your lines mostly around ~5.33% of your aloted space. Look for similitude amongst the signs of a given caste and keep that in mind while making a sign for that caste. Good luck.

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: Since last time, i actually looked up how constellations worked and learned that there is already both a Whale and a Fly constellation. So that's fun. I thought i was original, but turns out i was actually pretty basic all around. Story of my life.

4th Post: Artist, Sign of the Artist. I'll come out and say it right now, if i was a creator god i wouldn't love all my children equally.

Constellation: I hate how this one turned out, but i don't hate the idea. The aspect of Creation is usually Space whereas Time is the aspect of Destruction, so there's a clear irony here, but not an irreconcilable one. For one, "Art" doesn't necessarily mean "Creative Art", it can also mean any sort of skill set that is practiced and acquired. For example, the "Art of Archery" doesn't create anything. In fact, it's (or so i heard) about reproducing the same winning movement every time in order to arrive at the same result. That said, the Artist sign was supposed to be (a terrible attempt at) representing the head of a paintbrush. So here's my idea. (See picture below). This carries the symbolism of Time a lot better than the paintbrush did, since candles burn over time and ultimately all arrive at the same result. On the other hand, it doesn't carry anything of the whole definition of art i've elaborated in this paragraph, so that's a bummer. I like the idea enough tho, so I'll leave the bridging of these two concepts to other sections.

Lusus: Initially i wanted the lusus to be dead, but then i realized the only character to have a dead lusus in homestuck canon is also a timebound Burgundy blood, so my ✨ Special ✨ Boy ✨ Instincts ✨(tm) immediately kicked in and now i have to actually come up with something. Fire use is pretty rare in the natural world. The only thing other than humans that could be carrying a stick that's on fire is Firehawks. Firehawks are a group of Australian birds that sometimes carry burning sticks from wildfires to other dry areas in order to propagate them. Usually this is for the purpose of hunting, but this one is just going to be a little shit. The firehawk lusus's only joy in life is to burn shit down and sow chaos and destruction. Not a great parental figure to have around. Which sort of introduces Pyromania to the character. Pyromania is a form of impulse control disorder, sometimes born from having a neglectful father figure, which becomes harder to treat after childhood and can potentially worsen if untreated. This might be relevant later. It might not. #improv writing.

*I'm not an expert on this stuff, obviously; i just did a quick googling.

Physicality: I generally try to be creative with psionic powers and expand the possibilities from what homestuck set up, so giving this character strong Pyrokinetic powers would be pretty easy since it's just one step away from the burgundy's already established Telekinesis. But here's what i think. The character is about art in the sense of "practiced skill" so if "burning shit down" is or represents in some way their art, isn't it counter-cohesive if that art is a proficiency they were born with? So i'm going to make them psionless. Their fire-setting tool instead is a giant paintbrush which they coat in tar then light and use to draw circles around the battlefield. orrrrr... for their job. Pyromania isn't an art, creative or skill-wise, and as much as i think Alternia having Arson as a competitive sport is pretty funny, it's not really "a character's main focus" worthy. so here's the scene:

CONTENT WARNING: Violence against a Child. Abusive Parent.

Personality: Fire was a mainstay in Maipur Lenote's life since further than they can remember. When they were 4 sweeps old, fire was the thing their lusus waved around to chase out predators and bandits. When they were 5 sweeps old, fire was what tore down one of their hive's wall. The bird brained parent had a moment of clumsiness, or so it seem, and now the hive's left side had gone up in flames. From here on, fire was what cooked the meat without a connection to fuel household appliances. Fire was what brought heat to the coldest nights. At 6 sweeps old fire was what drove an angry mob of psions and warriors to Maipur's house, fire was what burned in their heart as they beat the young troll to an inch of their life without even ever telling the them what it is they did wrong. Their lusus never showed an inkling of knowing anything either. At 7 sweeps old, fire was what lit the way in dark forests as they ran from hordes again and again and so until fire finally became a tool for revenge. Maipur started to meet the hordes head on. Using a giant paintbrush coincidentally found in a chest adorned with their own caste sign, Maipur lit bodies across every field and forest on alternia, each death accompanied by screams of agony that no amount of smoke and crackling could cover. But revenge, in turn, only breeds revenge. It's only at 8 sweeps old that Maipur learned why their pursuers were so angry everytime. Everywhere they had went, their stupid birdbrained lusus had dumped sticks of fire and cans of gasoline in every neighborhood. It had spent every effort to prevent Maipur from learning this, indulging in its pyromanic impulses and leaving them to deal with the consequence. In a fit of rage, Maipur grabs it by its neck, pins it to the ground and yells with all the desperation in the world "But why!? Why do you do this???". The creature could answer, it's one of the rare lusii smart enough for basic communication, but it chooses not to. With a flick of its dexterous talons, it spins its burning stick into Maipur's wrist who releases it in a cry of pain. Now freed, Maipur and the beast make eye contact. They look at at each other with sadness, with anger, with pain. And then it flies away. At 9 sweeps old, Maipur never saw their lusus again. With it gone, mobs stop forming from having their homes burned down, but the ire of the friends and loved ones of the people felled by Maipur still burns on. From purple to burgundy, land dwellers of every kind come after Maipur's head. What was once a technique for survival has long since turned to art. They can burn down a half a dozen foes in a single sweep of the brush now, perhaps, but instead in battle like in peace they apply this skill to a new hobby of theirs. Landscaping. Their flames meticulously burn away ugly plants and view blocking bushes. Everywhere they pass through, from the nourishment of the ashes and a few consciously planted seeds, beautiful scenic vistas arise in time accompanying the charred bodies they leave in their wake. The Firepainter's works, though often macabre in circumstance, quickly gets noticed by both competitive arson leagues and gardening guilds. "Her Condescension wastes, but she does not spurn" as the blue bloods say, and when the time comes to leave the homeworld, the empire makes good on that adage. Maipur is offered work far above the merit of their blood. They shape landscapes for High Blood employers, they prepare battlefields for the empire's invasions, they burn down armies of soldiers, they burn down fortresses, they burn villages, they burn innocents. Anything really, Work is work. Most trolls look back at their days on alternia with fondness. But Maipur never looks back.

Excipit: Eeeeeeeeeh, get it? It's, like, the imagery of a wick/candle that burns from one side to the next, kinda. "Everywhere they pass through", "in time", if Maipur does their landscaping stuff then leaves and never comes back to see the result there's something bizarre, and i'd say profoundly anti-artistic, in that. I didn't want to tap into the "mental illness = evil" trope which i fucking hate from the bottom of my heart, but i did kind of tap into it. But i feel there's a few caveats that should be cutting me some slacks. For first, the "mentally ill = evil" character is a fucking bird. For twoth, the morality of someone with a mental illness is still depend on themselves first, if the story is good the character's morality might derive from their relationship to the illness or a particular action might be explained by that mental illness, but the character's morality can't come directly from the illness itself. I feel there's enough grounds to say the bird was an asshole already, pyromaniac or not. It hid its crimes and harmed its charge/child. pyromania is just the vehicle through which that manifested. For thirth it's a fucking bird.

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: My stupid fucking game doesn't work. These two stupid functions have like 450 lines together and the whole thing is like half a dozen for() loops all nested into each other nested into a while() loop. I tested it thoroughly. I thought i was done with it and put a nice bow and wrapping on it and sent it in the mail. Now i find that the recipient was always destined to be and that this gift is not a beautiful craft of art, but an abyss which beckons for my gaze just as it also beckons to gaze back. And i will gaze. But not today. Today is a day for coping. Today i will chain lose seven games of League of Legends, but sandwiched between those i will attempt a brand new coping method, #homestuck OC improv writing. Let's goooooooo.

3rd Post: Gemoloron, The Sign of the Potent. No, i'm not going to use That meaning of the word… i hope?

Constellation: Oh man, what could this one be? Maybe this bit represents eyes, but then what has ma— Biblically accurate angels. C'mon, I know it's a biblically accurate angel, you know it's a biblically accurate angel, even the homestuck redditors knew it was a biblically accurate angel. This brings up at least one question, is the Troll Bible a thing? The answer to that question is basically irrelevant, so i won't ponder it any further. I actually already know where i want to go for those first two paragraphs because i thought of it while writing the intro. You know what else has many eyes? That's right, Flies, and maybe dragonflies, and maybe basically half of all other bugs, but that includes Flies. A Fly's two eyes are actually compound eyes which contain thousands of individual lenses inside. There's probably a connection to make with Belzebub who's sometimes also an angel, but i don't really wanna. Point is, Rage being the aspect of Chaos and Goldies being the caste for duality makes them a match made in heaven (heh). The nature of this sign is all about contradiction, being both Gracious Holy Angel and Gross Disgusting Fly. This is a design i want to communicate in both the constellation and the lusus while emphasizing the eyes, so here's what i'm thinking about (see picture below) (i fucking hate insects, why did i pick this, i don't want to be editing a picture of one for many minutes) (Holy fuck, the GIMP perspective tool is awesome. Why have i never used that before??). Ok, so, facts first, this image is awful. It also kind of fucks (heh). A fly with human eyes, yet another mystical symbol. I really thought mystical symbol constellations weren't going to be a dime a dozen back when i was on the first post, yet here we are. As stated before it symbolizes Contradiction and Contrasts, but primarily between the Ugly and the Beautiful.

Lusus: Aight, i actually image edited the lusus too this time around. Gods, brace yourself because this one is also genuinely awful, no "it fucks" involved. (see picture below). This time instead of being a fly with angel (human) eyes it's an angel with Fly eyes. It reverses, because contradictions, contrasts. This guy is actually stupid as fuck, like fly-level intelligence. When the character is introduce we quickly notice that all their window are broken. Then, a bit later we hear a sound of broken glass from out of frame and the next panel pans out with this jackass with his head through a window trying to crawl out of it. Right next to him is a wide open door. He's at no risk of harming himself on the sharp glass tho, he's actually ~3m tall with physical strength enough to rival the Spidermom, but he's so stupid he can't use a weapon or even punch or kick. The only way he ever attacks is by flying at extreme speed and crashing his body into shit. Our character can't invite anyone to their home because this dude is too stupid to understand the concept of a "friend" and will just ram any and all that gets close to the house, killing it instantly. He's not vicious or anything, tho. When something aproaches he'll stand visibly and menacingly in the sky, meaning he mostly only ever murders wild animals too dumb to understand that warning. Finally, the only thing it ever does other than murder shit in the stupidest way possible and break windows trying to get in and out of the house is clean. Because flies do that. Any sign of dirt, dust or glass shard he sees gets broomed right out of the house. Because apparently he's smart enough to use his limbs for that. Ok dude.

Physicality: You might have noticed this lusus has a single clipped wing which i haven't mentioned. This is because i just added it, right now, after the lusus paragraph is done. Why? To establish numerology, of course. I have a last name to start this character with. Beluth. The name is a deformation of Belzebuth, another name of Beelzebub, but also alludes to the last symbolic element of the character which i will get to shortly. Beluth is, like many gold bloods, a powerful psion. Unlike most goldbloods, Beluth's powers are particularly stunted in the range department, allowing her to levitate objects no further than her arms' reach, which are fortunately rather long. She uses this power effectively through their kind abstratus, 5xRevlvrkind, by levitating each revolver simultaneously. Each revolver having, of course, 5 chambers per cylinder. For physical appearance, the eyes are pretty important so i'll start with that. Remember Die from The Felt? Remember that guy? Remember how he always has that look as if you just caught him doing something unspeakable at 3am. Essentially, that's Beluth's resting face, but she's self-conscious about it so she's grown out long bangs that covers her face. Beluth is a great fan of alternian "Western" movies (troll cowboy movies) and so dresses herself in a cowboy jacket, a large cowboy hat further obscuring her face and 6 revolver holsters stacked on top of each other. The middle left holster is always empty. Her body shape is very lanky, tall and thin, which gives her an intimidating/badass look when her face is covered and inversely furthers the crazed kinda bozo look when it's unveiled.

Personality: Finally to tie it all together. Rage is the aspect of Truth, Chaos and the Incomprehensible. The human-eyed fly is a constellation that symbolizes the contrast between the ugly and the beautiful. Gemolorn is titled the Sign of the Potent. That third element i feel isn't as important to be smoothly integrated so i'm writing it off as done from the generally high power level of the character and her lusus. The second is integrated from the previous paragraph, though subverted. "Ugly" has been replaced by "Gaunt, kinda bizarro look", Beluth's inner appearance, and "Beautiful" by "Cool badass cowboy look", the outer appearance which she has crafted for herself. The obvious arc from here is a "learn to let down the mask and accept yourself for who you are" narrative, but imo that fucking sucks right now. This style is something Beluth has made for herself, something that reflects her hobby and something that's partly fed from her inner appearance itself. So rather, as the story progresses, Beluth progressively goes from a fangirl simply mimicking cowboys to actually becoming one. she loses the hat, the jacket, even the bangs, yet she's still out there ridin' through the wasteland catchin' outlaws. "Quickest barrels this side o' the empire. She be shootin' so fast, even 'er shadow's surprised", says an old grizzled ranger drinking his whisky from the corner of a saloon. Get it? The crazed look itself becomes part of her mythos. You are the cowboy Beluth. it's you. I think that's pretty good over all. Her gunslinging style comprises particularly bouncy bullets that bounce all over creating an incomprehensible/chaotic barrage. It think that, plus everything before which kind of relates to finding an inner deeper Truth is enough to relate her to her aspect.

Excipit: I liked this character a lot. I hated the making of this post a lot. i meant for this series to be quick writing exercises for when i have a few hours to kill, but it turned out to be day-long endeavors, partly because of my chronic inefficiency at basically everything. i actually wrote the first and second half of it with a 1 and a half week gap between the two. Plus now i have to see it through because i thought of a decent way to recycle the signs and the ideas for the constellations for one of my games. Also, originally i meant for most of these characters to be ungendered because gender isn't usually relevant to the kind of characters i write. But that makes it marginally more of a pain to write so i'll just use whatever pronouns i hc them as. also i didn't use that meaning of the word. Congrats present me from past me.

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: Alright, so when i went to sleep yesterday (14h00) i had this annoying migraine. When i woke up in the morning (21h40) it was still there and had gotten even worse. Sucks. So I’ve got this big glass of water with “0,4L“ indented on the side and i think “i’ll drink some water, that usually helps migraines“ and so i fill it up and take a swing and just don’t stop and when it’s empty i fill it again and again and again and 3 hours later i’ve drank like 3 and a half liters of water. The point i’m getting at here is twofold. First, whoever invented humans is a fucking idiot. “Oh, i know, when they’re dehydrated they’ll just get a nondescript throbbing at the top of the head signifying absolutely fuckall to them.“ - Absolute fucking dumbass. Second, right now i’m actually in the best possible state (Thematically, not Mentally) to improv write this next sign:

2nd Post: Aquacin (#45), The Sign of the Ravel. A Ravel means a tangled object if i recall correctly, i’m not regoogling it.

Constellation: The sign is composed of three parts, a straight segment on the left, a sharp corner on the right, then the piece in the middle which is the other two stuck together, y’know, like, they’re tangled together. Nice going past me. A previous iteration had the design be just 3 times the middle part, and at that point the first possible symbolism was a bit obvious. It’s a chain (see first picture below). But that’s booooring. Like, a blood symbol themed around chains? Look at mister original over here. Chains isn’t even what people think of when they hear ravel (or more commonly, Unravel). They think ropes, knots, fabric, maybe even electric cords. So instead, why not something more like... (spends several minutes fucking around in GIMP) This! (see second picture below). A wand with a knot. Why? What does it mean? Well, first of all, it’s abstract and mystical looking and bizarre and looks cool. But searching for more precision, the first thing i think of is Bridge Locks (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_lock). This might be a cool element to characterize around later, but the connection with the symbol is a bit thin, so let’s keep searching. The second thing i think of is the japanese tanabata festival (just learned that’s how it’s called) trees (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata#/media/File:七夕_(19545533256).jpg) where people write wishes on pieces of paper and tie it to a bamboo. Scouring that wiki page, wish trees (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wish_tree) are actually a thing throughout the world and throughout cultures. some of them have things tied to them, some of them have coins in their bark and all of them are freaking awesome. So here’s the idea, a myth for how the constellation was born. There’s a big tree once upon a time. A powerful figure of some kind, a god or hero, ties something to one of the branches and makes a wish, possibly for love if that ends up being a theme of the character later. Later, a hero goes up to the tree, hacks the branch, and crafts themself a wand without ever removing the tied item in order to benefit from the figure’s power. they go about their epic saga doing whatever it is that ancient myth heroes do, and at some point in it the wand gets flung out of their hand and into the sky where it is immortalized as a constellation. Dope.

Lusus: I spent quite a bit on the constellation, so i going to try to get the lusus done quicker, i don’t think it’ll be too relevant to the character this time. It’s an eel. An eel. It’s an eel with a tie. A neck tie, all dad-like. An ambiguous length of its body is inside a big piece of wood-looking coral. Actually, scratch that, it’s in a small tree. An underwater tree. Its body is probably all tangled up inside, but we don’t know that, we just get the sense of it from how it keeps doing head thrusts that slowly drags the whole thing around on the ocean floor. Otherwise it tries to appear to others as serious as possible as much as possible.

Physicality: Ok here’s the deal. It’s a dude. He’s got a necktie. He looks a bit like a loser. He can’t be a girl because girls usually look too cool with a necktie. Hair is messy, like every shonen protagonist messy, but his suit is impeccable. Here’s the secret, the big character reveal that’s dropped at like the 1/4th of the story, late enough to be surprising but early enough to cement itself in his character. It’s a clip-on tie :o. FOOL CAN’T PUT A NORMAL TIE ON WITHOUT MAKING A FCUKED UP KNOT THAT LOOKS RIDICULOUS, JAJAJAJAJAJAJA. (not judging if *you* have trouble with ties, or anything. this is just kidding stuff). So we’ve a messy boy, what about psychic powers? My HC for Violet blood psychic powers is... None. Haven’t figured it out. So he’s gonna have none, he was lining up to be a bit of an everyman archetype, anyways. Now that we’ve got a messy-haired loser everyman character, the obvious next step is to give him droopy eyes, a mumbly voice and a stubbled chin, right? WRONG! Remember, my man’s suit is I M P E C C A B L E. He has bright open eyes, a clear voice and the shavedest of chins. He tries very hard, every day, and if he’s a mess it’s solely because he sucks huge shit at basically everything (he just like me fr fr). His hands quake at the slightest of pressures, his eyes start to dart around at the slightest of calls for focus, he busts every craft, misses every target, loses every fight, but every time he gets back up, he cleans off his suit, clips his tie back on and combs his hair (which immediately goes back to its immutable messiness) having learned a bit more. A lot of hs characters often have minorer interests that don’t really matter or symbolize anything in the grand scheme of things (rose’s knitting, john’s magic tricks, jade’s gardening). For this guy, it’s roguelikes/lites. His strife specibus is rodkind. Not magic rods, not baseball bats or walking canes. just circular sticks of metal he uses to beat enemies over the head with. At some point he gets like an insane legendary weapon, but it’s just a metal stick with overly elaborate ornaments and such, so it looks ridiculous.

Personality: For the narrative, he would either be an unproblematic prince meant to subvert the lowkey implied idea in homestuck that princes are supposed to be evil or problematic, or he would be a non-prince villain with a sympathetic backstory. The problem is, i don’t want to make a habit of mentioning class in these because it generally limits the character’s possibility at this stage of its inception. The problem’s problem i just did that. So, fuck it, turkey-off ham-on, guy’s a prince as well as not a complete piece of shit. Princely narratives are based around the character owning great power in excess and abusing this power in a way that proves self-destructive, the form of the power in question being variable based on the aspect. Here, the character’s power evidently comes from their tremendous perseverance. Perseverance isn’t a classic association of blood, but i think it fits a bit considering breath is associated with malleability. I would still like a thicker connection, tho, and it’s a perfect occasion to tie in with physical appearance. Why *does* this character take such good care of his appearance? Another strong theme of blood is responsibility, duty. Perhaps if The Man feels the need to put in so much effort, it’s out of a sense of duty for “something?”. In that case, since it manifest primarily through their appearance, maybe they don’t even need to actually be competent, they just need to seem it. A man who’s spent countless years working tirelessly to show a level of competence that is in no way natural to him, in order to righteously represent the people he does. Maybe a country? a community? a political party? a kin, be it of blood, of heart or of mind? Whichever, it’s the fear of failing these people that keeps him going, and that eventually breaks him. My man needs a break. I failed to mention it earlier, but, yes, if he’s a prince and his perseverance is Blood, than his perseverance is a toxic influence to him, something he has to let go of but can’t. For the previous options of what it is that pushes him, i prefer the options that are fundamentally good things, like community and kin. The alternatives, political party (ties well into blood tho because diplomacy is somewhat connected to blood) has him more as a victim of his circumstances than of his own making. With positive groups pushing him there’s also room to tie it with bridge locks and the constellation myth. The narrator can be all like “Eternal love is beautiful, of course, but it must not be confused with eternal commitment.“ or something.

Excipit: Ok this is pretty much all, but there’s a few more things. About the strife specibus, each rod the character uses always has something tied to it. Like the first one has ropes above the hand position to form an improvised guard. And then maybe another one has a ribbon. Then he alchemizes the first and the ropes become sorta tendrils that move around of their own will. Who knows, i think that element gives potential for making fun creative weapons while keeping the idea of “lol, it’s just a bar“.

I’m not trying to make this a daily thing or anything. If you see this from the traveling through the homestuck hashtag, sorry to bother you with my silly character spitballing. I gotta go now, lest i miss my deterministically set bed time (15h00) (it advances 1h every day) (that’s how it got to there) (it’s a problem).

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: I made a bunch of custom troll signs a while ago, so i’ll be posting them every so often along with improvised writing for the characters they would belong to and hopefully i’ll figure out this website while doing so.

1st Post: Sagipyre (#12), Sign of the Herald. The big question with heralds is always: « what is it that they’re heralding? ».

Constellation: A lot of the signs i’ll be posting will be much more concrete (just wait for Artist), but this first one is very abstract. What does the bump represent? A hill? A whale? Turning back from your goals? Maybe the upwards arrow represents Ascension, or maybe it represents departing from the ground (the straight segment) in the meaning of losing touch with common sense, reality. As a constellation, it’d symbolize a man skipping over a whale, furthering this theme of dreamishness / unrealness. The corrector says those aren’t words. Fuck you corrector.

Lusus: For the lusus, a whale. Not a sea whale, a land whale. A big ol’ chonker boy dragging around its fat adorable body with its undersized fins, covered in mud like an elephant except not even elephant-sized, more of a cow-sized whale. The kinda mob you see and you’re like “ah shit, that’s probably a bit of a tough one“, but then you fight him and he’s pretty close to the bottom of the lusus power tier list.

Physicality: I gotta get to the character at some point. My HC is that every cast has their own psychic powers, even if some are more subtle or rare than others. Indigo bloods have freakish physiological mutations, mostly manifesting as increased strength. Since this one is supposed to be dreamish, they’d have great psychic power, but it’d depart pretty far from that standard of strength. So how about this: they have special glands inside their mouth that they can use to shoot a jet of acid forward, which somewhat mimics the spout of a whale if they do it upwards. Maybe the acid is all shiny or rainbowy and stuff so it ties in to Light. Maybe they’re like “I’ve got two powers, acid spit and acid resistance“, meaning they’re very lucky because having only the former would immediately maim them on use, which also ties in to Light, because luck. You might be noticing i’m skirting pretty intensely around their personality. This is because i have no fucking clue what their personality would be.

Personality: So, « what is it that they’re heralding? ». I don’t fucking know. It depends on what the plot they’re in would be. They’d be a symbol of their faction. People would go “oh shit, watch out, this is the smthsmth team. they’ve got the guy who spit acid rays that obliterate everything“ even tho the acid rays don’t actually everything and even tho smthsmth team also got intel agents and managing workers and smart people and charismatic people and tons of other people who do much less recognized work to make sure that acid rays guy is always at the right place at the right time. How does acid rays guy feel about this? Dunno. Maybe they think “It’s all me baby“ and can’t see the good work of their teammates. Maybe they think “all my teammates are so good, I just spit acid“ and can’t realize the good work they themself put in too. Maybe they just think “yep, everyone’s doing their part”. The better one imo would be that last one, but only on the logical and conscious level. Emotionally, their ego keeps pushing themself up as this “yeah, I *am* the shit. These teammates need *me* more than I need *them*“. A constant fight between their Ego which tries to push them up into Pride and Arrogance against their self-aware and their loyalty/friendship towards their teammate which brings them back to a grounded attitude.

Tying stuff together: Suddenly, this theme ties every piece together. The upwards arrow, representing the whale’s spout, also represents the character being lifted up out of groundedness in reality by their Ego, into a state of dreamish arrogance. The character’s connection to their whale lusus is one of the forces that help them stay grounded. Since it’s a pretty weak creature, the character’s pride in their power also implies a disdain for the weak, and as they end up voicing this subconscious thought, they realize how fucked up it is to their longtime parental figure and the guilt brings them back to reality. Finally, idk why i didn’t think of this earlier, but rather than shoot the jets of acid from their mouth, instead they have this sort of small hole or gun-like barrel on the back of their head or neck from which they shoot the acid upwards. Meaning if they want to shoot they have to incline their head and look at the ground and then they can’t see shit for where they’re aiming. So they probably shoot it upwards and have it fall back down as rain most of the time.

Excipit: Welp, that’s that. Surely i’ll make another one some day (i thought i would be doing this for 20min tops T_T, delusional man over here). There’s still 47 more signs to go. Probably nobody will ever even see this. I’m not even sure this will be formatted correc— STFU. STOP HYPING YOURSELF DOWN AND FUCKING POST IT. Edit 24-Jan-2024: Correcting spelling mistakes.