axelstuck

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Why would anyone headcanon.

why would anyone headcanon vriska as a cis woman. jane is right there

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GONGGONG GOD OF RAGE, DESTRUCTION, STRENGTH, AND REVOLUTION

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We all make mistakes.

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Missing Part of Myself

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A well-known aspect of highbloods is their esteemed attention to artistic proficiency. Here we see that natural talent on full display.

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Six-Shooterkind

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Yes, the horrors are indescribable, but the splendors also transcend the limits of language.

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[The moirail is obliged to pacify the other, to function as the better half. The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.]

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Your name is AZWIEL LIYCEE.

You stay in your HIVE all day, doing nothing but sleep and chat through your HUSKTOP with whoever will listen. Not like you have much choice anyways, the people up top won't let you. Surprisingly, you're not actually native to ADDABONN. A long time ago, you weren't so spooky-looking. You were actually really chill and had quite a few friends from all across the caste. But then, suddenly, you had a real bad day and decided to make it everyone else's problem. Now, after trying and failing to get rid of you the easy way, sent you OFF-PLANET to this miserable dump.

It's not all bad though. You get all the time in your amazingly long lifespan to do all the shit you wanna do. You manage to pull in money from gullible suckers by MAKING RISQUE CLOTHING from the scraps of material you can get and modeling for it online to get people hooked and buy more of your shit. It helps that apparently being the first outsider to show up on ADDABONN in sweeps means you're pretty fuckin' popular, so basic math means that a LOT of Trolls are gonna be buying your shit. Y'know, there was actually this ONE DUDE WITH WINGS you used to date was really cute in the same way a RABID NIBBLE VERMIN falling in your trash is. You wonder how he's doing, and you wonder if maybe he finally took that LUMBERJACK wardrobe advice you asked for.

As easy as it is to say how comfy things are in this CELLHIVE of yours, you can't help but get some old URGES TO FUCK SHIT UP. You gotta feed the beast eventually, and you ain't gonna do that by staying on this little rock forever.

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Your name is NYRIUS OUNAGA.

In your time on ADDABONN you were a lot of things. While the LEGISLACERATORS on ALTERNIA were neutered into passive dispensers of justice, here their role as bounty hunters and lethal peacekeepers remains true. Later, after some bad times dealing with highbloods, you found work in several skills: MARKET ESTIMATIONS AND TRADES, crafting refined GRUBFEASTS, and especially FORGING SWORDS FOR COMMISSION SERVICE AND PERSONAL USE.

You may have found a comfortable living and built a respectable identity, but none of it can remain for long. You have an objective. One you've been planning for Sweeps now, one that's finally on the verge of being set into motion. And you cannot let it fail again.

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Your name is URUKIM ENKIDU, and that's all you know.

You have no idea how you got here. You remember falling asleep, and waking up to the chirps of birds rustling still trees. The ground around you feels out-of-tune, to put it. Everything is out of alignment from what your senses tell you.

Upon inspection, it appears you've been broken out of some sort of cocoon, or maybe a rock. Inside of it is etched writing that you understand.

ABBADONN. It's a name, but for what you don't know. Perhaps that's what your name really is? Unlikely, URUKIM ENKIDU feels right.

Inside the rockoon with you was some sort of magic tablet giving off light resembling a book. Within it, it appears someone is trying to contact you.

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Your name is MVARLY KENET.

Trolls used to bug you all the time about how, since you're the only one of your blood type in the you're supposed to be ADDABONN'S EMPRESS and how they expect you to establish a new empire to someday rival HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION, whoever that is. None of that "heiress" stuff interested you at all though, so you ran off to ADDABONN'S INTENSELY VIOLENT RIVERS to hide.

In your solitude, you've found all sorts of things to have fun with instead. Most fun of all is any sort of LIFE-THREATENING EVENTS OF CONFLICT such as scaring and wrestling any nearby MUSCLEBEASTS, the best kind of LUSUS to throw down with. You also really like painting on cave walls, usually just to make some pretty shapes with prettier colors. Sometimes though, after napping in a MAKESHIFT RECUPERACOON, you wake up from NIGHT TERRORS to find cave paintings depicting the exact images you saw when you were asleep. You try not to let it bother you at all though, because you're a hardcore optimist that loves seeing the good in everything!

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Your name is OQUINH QUIZSE. That name is fucking awful though, so you'd rather go by QUIN.

You assert your dominance over the wild with an iron fist and a golden spur. Your primary source of public service is on the BEEFGRUB FARMS, aiding in the cultivation of the only bit of livestock that ADDABONN has been able to maintain. Your skills are most valuable in defending the herds from parasites and invading MOUNDTHRASHAGERS with your IMPECCABLE GUNPLAY. Even as a wiggler, your blood caste's refined cultural palate has had a soft spot for the old legends of ALTERNIAN LUSUS WRANGLERS; Handsome, rugged outlaws and enforcers that rode HOOFBEASTS in cool clothes, weathered the grueling conditions of the untamed deserts and mountain ranges, and killing each other over shiny coins and how big their towns were.

When you're not working, you're an aspiring writer taking on a challenge greater than any oversized DIRT NOODLE: the novel of your deepest, most intimate fantasies, combining the tropes of OLD FAR CONTINENTAL LUSUS WRANGLER FICTION with HORN-CHILLING MONSTER HORROR and STEAMY QUADRANT DRAMA. Dozens and dozens of drafts later, and you haven't gotten past ground zero with a basis that satisfies you. In the meantime, you have another chore in the parent-like MOIRAIL care of KASPUR, a unique lowblood with a hard life you couldn't help but feel pity for. On your way home from a supply run, you usually stop by his HIVE to see how he's doing and drop off his favorite foods and drinks. It's been a long time since you last visited him though, so if this season's pay is good enough you might just be able to buy some extra stuff for him.

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Your name is TROMBV REDECH.

Holy SHIT do you love Drive.

It's the first thing you ever talk about to every new Troll you meet. It's frankly absurd that the wider reaches of ADDABONN don't talk about this high-quality work of TROLLKIND CINEMA. Frankly, you feel like it's due to a general bias against ALTERNIAN ART.

So as to not seem stale like an old sun-drowned GRAINSLAB, you manage to like other things too. You typically go out of your way to go MOUNTAIN-SCALING every couple equinoxes. Despite your instincts, the OCCASIONAL STINGING of your broken horn reminds you to put on proper equipment. As of recent, you've taken up vehicle repair. It's surprisingly easy to get into hard-to-reach places due in part to your resilience and ADORABLE DWARFISM. It carries as a way to get closer to a TALL, BROODING, VIRIDIAN PRINCE that has stolen your heart by aiding in repairs to his VESPA, And even closer to your dream of becoming THE DRIVER, the vagabond of legend depicted in DRIVE, whose feats of incredible SCUTTLING and unmatched charisma temporarily inspired lowbloods everywhere and even gained the respect of ALTERNIA'S EMPRESS before she carried out his execution herself.

Gold bloods such as yourself aren't particularly common on ADDABONN. Unlike others, your poor networking means you don't have the salary to afford any of the TECHNOLOGICAL EQUIPMENT that could help with your UNUSUALLY OVERTUNED PSIONICS, so you make an effort to keep your eyes closed pretty much all the time and get around with your other senses. Not to the degree of being able to SMELL AND TASTE WORDS, though, because that's ridiculous.

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Your name is KASPUR NTRIVA.

After a bad attempt at catching some air with your WICKED SICK WINGS, you rest on a SPLAYSAC and let the bruise subside for a bit. In the meantime, you look around your admittedly barren HIVE and take everything in.

Your HIVE is an abandoned FISHBUG-GRINDER facility that Trolls left behind due to poor management. There used to be shattYou felt like it was an appropriate reflection of your own conditions, as you're extremely poor at self-care. At the top of the building is a watchtower with a large GONG SHOUTER that you never use anymore. The walls are adorned with all kinds of art, ancient and slightly less ancient, depicting LUSII in the early days of ALTERNIAN and ADDABONNIAN Troll civilization. There's always been something about all these breathtaking creatures that captured your imagination. That's probably why, on the desk behind you, rests a HUSKTOP that you primarily use for chatting and, more importantly, writing. Ever since first meeting and getting to know QUIN, you've been just as infatuated with writing as xe is. You want to make a story about the drama, romance, and fights for survival that you imagine ancient LUSII living. Aspiring artistry is one of the few moments of motivation that ypu've

Speaking of QUIN, you should probably send a message and see how xe's doing.

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Your name is TECROX VRUXIV.

You just finished CRUSHING SOME BADS with your MOIRAIL. Now that she's gone, you somber back to your HIVE, which is to say you don't have one.

Anything that you're able to call a joyful experience in your past isn't really possible anymore. After something that you can't remember left you bound to these HARD, COLD RESTRAINTS, you were left to die in the cruel ranges of ADDABONN. But POMSIA wouldn't let you die.

You don't have much else to do with your life until she manages to find you again or you stumble across some food, so you decide to just walk.

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Your name is POMSIA KHISSE.

After a rousing day of culling a nest of MOUNDTHRASHAGERS with your MOIRAIL, you return to your HIVE and rest your bardiche. The mystifying musk of the hollowed out TUBEFLORA puts you at ease almost immediately. This home of yours offers solitude from the madness that ADDABONN offers every day.

You have a towering pile of FLORALCRUST to snack on when the spoils of a hunt are scarce, in which the floral variety on display offers a unique opportunity that the other domesticated Trolls on this planet could never understand the joys of. You also have a special solar-powered HUSKTOP gifted to you by a current ARMISTICE a long time ago, when that wasn't the case. All these Sweeps later, you still don't know anything works with it. When you have a problem, you just call on your SICKLY GREEN FRIEND/AUSPICE to figure it out.

As cozy as this HIVE is, nothing beats the feelings of the outdoors for you. Already anxious for another venture soon, you check in with one of your contacts to see what they want to do.