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"we never really said goodbye"âa playlist for my fankid, Enid đ (tracklist below the cut!)

featuring the Apples in Stereo, Pinback, Radiohead, Modest Mouse & Arcade Fire & the Shins & more! đ„°
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My fic this year for the @davekatfanswap features artwork by @chthonicarcher and a custom mocktail created by roxy ;)

Read Tonight, I Really Got It Bad here!
daveys red declicous *delicious lol recipe:
1. add to a cocktail shaker and shake in the most unnecessarily dramatic way possible:
2 shots apple juice
1/2 shot fresh lemon juice
add grenadine until it is your most fav shade of red
ice
2. strain into glass of your choice, then fill with sparkling water
3. add cherry garnish
4. give to dave because this shit is for him
(if you want to unmock your mocktail replace one of the shots of aj with a shot of vodka or gin)
Thanks @saltinesy-spoons for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing this :)
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Yes there's a typo in the first option but I am not redoing the whole thing
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"we never really said goodbye"âa playlist for my fankid, Enid đ (tracklist below the cut!)

featuring the Apples in Stereo, Pinback, Radiohead, Modest Mouse & Arcade Fire & the Shins & more! đ„°
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Problem Dave





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it isnât the first time youâve had this dream.
(thatâs how you already know itâs a dream, you guess.)
the small, almost claustrophobic dwelling you find yourself standing in is dimly lit with lamplight; itâs been kept tidy enough, but the mismatched chairs and the ragged rug and the wooden shelves and all the odd little things on the shelves are just a bit too bent and banged and tattered, and everything seems dingy at the edges; the spare concrete floor and the thick windowpanes are encrusted with salt, making the scenery appear as an abstract blur, only really discernible from the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
itâs a sound youâre very familiar with. whenever you arenât dreaming, you live in a hive by the sea, too.

you take a seat by the dying fire, glancing at the pages of the open book thatâs been left there. you wonât be able to read the looping words scrawled there by some unsteady handâyou already know that from the many other times youâve had this dream. that doesnât stop you from trying, though.

there is a distinct feeling of absence here, you think, after you give up and settle deeper into the comfortably worn chair. itâs too big for you. you arenât short by any means, but your feet almost donât reach the floor.
absenceâas if someone was here just moments ago, just before you arrived. you canât explain it, only feel it: a charge in the air, someoneâs unbreathed breath left behind, somebodyâs trail of thought youâve tripped across. something infuriatingly intangible thatâs here but that isnât yours.
from the small adjacent kitchen comes a wavering scream, steadily increasing in volumeâshit, that always happens after you sit down in the chair and try to read the writing. somehow, it still manages to startle you, just like it did the first time.

even now, you are far too nervous to laugh at yourself for it, even though you know itâs only the kettle.
dutifully, you get up to turn off the hob. the scream dies down to a sigh.

you follow the same steps you always do when you visit this place. one by one, you examine the items carefully laid out there in the kitchen: the chipped mug, the leaf juice bag, the spoon and the small bowl of sugar.
(what if you tried something different this time?)
so, ignoring the arrhythmic banging sound coming from behind youâyou know itâs only the door, left ajar and caught by the windâyou fix yourself a cup of tea. thereâs no grub milk to be found anywhere, but you suppose you can do without it, under the circumstances.

normally, after turning off the kettle, youâd retreat away from the kitchen, further insideâaway from that repeatedly slamming door. you would find your way to a long spiraling staircase made of thick rusting metal and begin to climb, up and up, toward the steadily turning light at the very top, driven there by a burning curiosity.
and just before you would reach it, you would wake up, pump biscuit thumping hard in your chest from the long, strenuous climb, and you would go find your lusus and tell him about it, maybe, or just go back to sleep, or give up and just get out of your recuperacoon for the nightâsee if maybe anybody was online to troll yet.
well, not this time. this time, you stand in the cramped kitchen and sip your tea, and you wonder about the writing in the book, and the absence.

(why not try going through the open door?)

you stand rooted to the spot, leaning against the counter oh so casually, and warily watch that door slam itself against its frame again and again while you drink the tea.
a little shiver tears through your body, though you arenât cold. you wonder if Einnal would make fun of you for being afraid, if he was here. thatâd be rich. heâs probably the biggest coward you know.
you set the mug down decisively and stride toward the door, catching it mid-swing.

the waves are high, but not the worst youâve ever seen. the salt spray catches you in the face as you lean out the door. itâs nice, though, familiar.
from a glance, itâs maybe an hour before dawnfall. the clouds are boiling, tumultuous as the sea, the sky beyond them still dark as a bruise. every half minute or so, the sweeping beam of the lighthouse briefly illuminates the stormclouds. every time, though, itâs gone too soon, leaving only a bright afterimage behind.
you lean further out of the doorframe, into the chill wind, to squint up at the pale shapes lurking among the clouds. theyâre bigâvery big. thatâs about as much as you can see from here.

thereâs nobody else out here. you are alone.
you grip the edges of the doorframe tightly when your feet begin to leave the ground, but itâs no use. youâre airborne in moments, along with several sizeable chunks of rocky coastline.

(itâs easy enough to keep yourself calm. itâs only a dream, after all.)

slowly, you float up and up and up, parallel to the lighthouse tower. itâs massive, yet still dwarfed by the jagged, rocky landscape itâs nailed into like a stake. you donât recognize this shoreline at all.
fleetingly, through the windows, you can see a shadowy figure inside the tower, steadily climbing up those spiral stairsâhe looks like you, could that really be you? yourself, dreaming a different dream? orâŠ

youâve lost sight of him. you canât see through the windows at this angle.
you look down. the sea is wild beneath you. itâs colder now, up here, caught as you are in the whims of the wind. you sort of wish you had worn a sweater to sleep.
at last, your flight has brought you level with that massive beacon at the top of the lighthouseâand then higher still, with no way to stop or slow down.
the figure emerges from the staircase, stepping out onto the top level.


it canât be you, after all. itâs someone else, someoneâolder, maybe, though there certainly is a resemblance.
his long cloak billows dramatically in the wind.
heâs missing his right arm.
heâs looking right at you.
you stare back at him as he gradually recedes into the distance, smaller and smaller, until heâs no more than a speck.

youâve flown so highâyouâre about to be swallowed by the turbulent swirl of thick, dark clouds above you. for some reason, you find yourself holding your breath, as though youâre afraid you might drown in them, but no such thing happens. the moment youâre submerged into the sea of clouds is perfectly painless.

you canât see anything anymore, though. you have no sense of direction left at all. even the sounds of the ocean are significantly muted, way up here.
a few minutes pass before you realize

(youâre not alone)

there are gigantic creatures circling you from a distanceâthe same ones you saw from the ground, perhaps.
that distance is rapidly shrinking, though. theyâre swimming closer every minute. dream or not, youâre finding it more and more difficult not to outright panicâyou have nothing here to defend yourself with, youâre not even wearing shoes, for fuckâs sakeâ
but thenâthenâ
you emerge from the dark clouds entirely, abruptly, clumsily. youâre still ascending, Alterniaâs ever so slight curvature now visible to you at this dizzying height. the impending dawn is threatening the horizon in earnest now.
the sharks donât follow you out into the open air, preferring to remain half-concealed in the clouds instead. you almost canât believe your luck. you watch their fins circling below and canât help but exhale a shaky breath, butâŠ
but before you can feel too great a sense of relief, you look up,

and see a creature there far larger than any shark, of either the sea or sky variety: a giant sky-squid, white as bone. its tentacles alone seem to span half (maybe more) of the length of the shoreline, far below.

itâs marked with countless scars, from countless battles. there are thousands of tridents and spears and harpoons stuck in its massive body, the great majority of them broken, it seems. one of its tentacles has been entirely blown apart, the ragged stump now long-healed, by the looks of it.
itâs seen you now. it seems to regard you not only with blank, stupid, wild-animal hostility, butâŠwith caution. maybe youâre only imagining it.

one thing you know for certain, though, as you stare unblinking into its huge and ancient eye: this is the bastard that took your arm.
no doubt about that.
in spite of its great size, itâs fast, and youâre unarmed. you never stood a chance.
you scramble for one of the weapons stuck in its mantle, anythingâbut none are even close enough to reach, let alone to pry loose. the last thing you see before youâre swallowed whole is the lighthouse, far below, still signaling steadily across the waves as the sun begins to rise.
---


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low effort lasso tool daves
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my guys! (they kinda go with Randyâs playset :] (playset sold separately))
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the sequel to dogs
GRAMPY: PHWWWEEEB.
RADNOR: whuh
RADNOR: oh
RADNOR: where did u--
GRAMPY: GROOOKPHHNNT?
===
RADNOR: man i rly thought i threw that out
RADNOR: is just smth from that dream i had. yk
RADNOR: itz rly nothing tho. dont think i captured him.
RADNOR: the memory tendz 2 be ambiguous 2 me, but heâŠ
===
RADNOR: he woz softer than that.
RADNOR: smaller.
JUDY: A PUPPY?!?!?!
JUDY: Ohhhhh!!!
===
JUDY: Pretty baby
JUDY: Pretty puppy baby
JUDY: Hey puppy, What's your full name?
JUDY: Whats youre entire name, funny?
JUDY: What's her name?
MOTHER: He's a boy. He doesn't have a name.
===
JUDY: That's too badâŠ
MOTHER: Point being that YOU name him, Judes.
===
JUDY: Oh! Howsabout G--
MOTHER: I know you know that Gosalyn is not a boy's name.
JUDY: Fiiine :P
===
JUDY: âŠI dont know any boys name's though
MOTHER: None at all? Not even--
JUDY: Nada! None
MOTHER: HmmmâŠ
JUDY: Whos my favorite little no-name! Yes you are!
===
JUDY: My best nothing boy in the entire universe!!!
===
RADNOR: oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit
RADNOR: lil fuckin dudeâŠ
RADNOR: get a loada this guy
THE SEQUEL TO DOGS: YIPYIPYIPYIPYIP
RADNOR: haha thats watt im sayign
RADNOR: u made this from scratch?
GRAMPY: BWEEGHPHHT.
===
JUDY: Look at him run! Where are you off to in a hurry huh?
JUDY: The Dognado, takin' the east coast by STORM!
===
RADNOR: goddamn
RADNOR: look @ him waddle hah.
RADNOR: u got places 2B lil guy
RADNOR: shit 2 do
RADNOR: yea me 2 bubby.
RADNOR: he fuckin ruuuuuulz.
RADNOR: this is the best 1 yet grampy
===
GRAMPY: OOKRGRPHNT?
MOTHER: So about that nameâŠ
RADNOR: uhh. the name?
MOTHER: Maybe you could pull one from something you like?
RADNOR: idkâŠ
JUDY: Oh, like Tiny Toon Adventure's? I was just watching that!
RADNOR: my data from that dream is⊠i cant pull from it.
MOTHER: In that case, how aboutâŠ
RADNOR: maybeâŠ
MOTHER: "Buster"?
RADNOR: ⊠"bupkis".
JUDY: Yeah, I think that suit's him just fine!
RADNOR: yea⊠soundz abt rite.
#homestuck#comics#so fucking good dude#this is cute as hell and also just. so well made#fankid#fantroll#judy duclair#radnor adhara#and grampy#and buster#and bupkis!!#cutie puppies <3#the parallels the PARALLELS#radnor's art style is so SO cool it makes such perfect sense for him you know?#also it's just nice to look at#also I really enjoy that grampy basically has three hands bc he uses his trunk for stuff thats so funny
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beholed. a little playlist for my angle child radnor... RADNOR TYPE BEAT. a compilasche of trax for robot brain snax...! kinda music he likes most.
& you can listen to it... [RIGHT HERE]!
and thanks if u do. <3 take care
#YEAHHH!!#radnor adhara#character playlist#music#I been WAITING!!!#fucking sick cover art also#I love radnor's art style it's almost like I can hear it. it's like rhythmic
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organisation xiii wepeel + jonnas effect @chthonicarcher
#homestuck#kingdom hearts#wepeel hawlee#xewelep???#that weapon ruuuuules dude#jonnas hawlee#100% accurate dancestor interaction#lmaooooo#<333
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witch of space meetup âš
happy birthday @cgtg!! đ°đ you're such an inspiration to me every day & I'm so happy to know you. + I hope you have a wonderful day :]
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you can meet everyone and like them too
KORBID FARROW tba (pronounce like tibia)
the "avant guard", the "psychopomp-ous", the fabled hater of downers
THE DOOM SPIRAL. THE DOOM SPIRAL. GUILT. SHAME. REGRET. ETERNAL. (but we stay silly)
a pioneer in horti-sepulture, or graveyardening 8)
ONE MILLION SWEEPS PLAGUE WAR. GHOULS AND SPECTRES ARISE AT DAWN. WE WILL RAVAGE THIS LAND.
loves to make collages and discover fucked up beasts
RADNOR ADHARA garbledTransmission
raised on machinima, YTPs, & slamdroids (robotic pro wrestling).
finds a way 2 use every device for his own sick&twisted purposes (fun art & music)
being grounded & realistic =/= bein a downer. cmon. hes fun. gr8 @ parties
can quote fesh pince to u in full, including all sound FX.
hungover on grubers (grub burgers) @ all times.
JUDY DUCLAIR goodieGosalyn
Head in the clouds and a very long to-do list!
Real life is just like cartoons, and if it isn't then it sucks and is stupid and she doesn't care. :P
An avid helper, to the point of kinda just herding people around like a sheepdog. Dishes it out but can't take it!
A roleplaying fanatic -- MMOs, forums, YouTube comments, you name it, shes playing pretend in it
Hasn't been out very much since Enid left
BELBEE SOLLAK caegarsConundrum
ONE OF ALTERNIA'S LEADING "UNTHINKERS"
FOLLOWING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF HER "ANCESTOR" WHO "MYSTERIOUSLY VANISHED" SEEKING "THE TRUTH"
WANTS TO KI(SS/LL) TROLL GIORGIO A. TSOUKALOS ON HIS "BIG STINKY NUG PLATEAU"
WILL NOT HESITATE TO BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA YOU IF "THE VIBES ARE OFF"
"TROLLS TEH FORUMZ" TO "ENLIGHTEN PEOPLE" TO THE FRIVOLITY OF "COMMON" KNOWLEDGE
ALHENY SOLLAK thaumasTribute
a Bit of a SmartyPants, a Bit of a BookWorm. not Much else to Do.
if you don't Agree, she didn't Explain herself Correctly.
Claims to be an Aspiring traumaturge, but Secretly wants to be a Glittery Princess Fairy.
spends Most of her time half-submerged in Slime.
writes a Lot of fanfiction, naturally Behind a pseudonym.
#homestuck#fantrolls#fankids#korbid farrow#radnor adhara#judy duclair#belbee sollak#alheny sollak#I love them all so much
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