#dare I say it: moirails

[quantumvaudeville]

Besties.

[muzwoom]

I love all interpretations of rok soo and og cale (mostly bc i just love rok soo and og cale) but my favorite interpretation will aleays be platonic soulmates 🫶 whether theyre twins cousins qpps or just rlly close best friends platonic soulmates is literally just so canon and true

[palestporn]

Your moirail likes to touch you.

It's another symptom of his damage, really, all the pitiful, cracked bullshit about him wrapped up in the needy, hungry way he strokes your hair or your horns or takes daring, glancing reach-arounds to brush a hand over your back. Trolls are tough as chitin and claws, and you don't give a shit about your aberrant mutant blood, you're a troll through and through.

You shouldn't like to be touched. You don't.

But Gamzee does. And you, for some godforsaken reason, are infected with some kind of disease that makes you tolerate him.

It's cold tonight, and you can tell as soon as you wake up because Gamzee's curled around you like a grub, face buried in the back of your neck and hands rubbing absently up and down your belly. You have the slime set pretty warm, but not warm enough, apparently. When you move to get untangled, Gamzee grumbles and groans and reels you in even harder, nuzzling behind your ear.

You're a troll, you don't care about being touched. But you also can't get away. So you settle, and grumpily let him pet sleepily at your face, your chest, your neck. The slight, rough scrape of the pads on his palms and then the prickling, controlled threat of his claws.

You don't need to be touched. You don't need anybody for anything. A troll is an island. A troll doesn't give a shit. A troll doesn't get frustrated and irritable if they have to go a few weeks without their moirail touching them, so you don't. You don't.

You don't realize you're purring until he starts purring too. The tips of his claws trail across the curve of your thoracic cage, prickle and knead at you like you're some kind of wriggler comfort object, and you try to choke down the rusty rumble in your thorax and can't make it happen.

Gamzee mumbles, "Best friend, beats every miracle on the sand, sea and sky how sweet you turn for me touching you," and curls around you a little tighter, bites harmlessly at the side of your neck and the nape, where the hair trails off down your posture column. For a second all of his claws and his fangs press just hard enough to catch you still, breath hitching--then his palms smooth past the place his claws pricked at you, and he nuzzles his bare cheek against the mark of his teeth, and you're purring even louder, melting into warm, stupid shivers.

You understand what he actually said a second later, and are immediately, breathlessly indignant.

"I'm, you, fuck you," you retort, which is far from your best work, but in your defense your moirail is a soft embarrassment of a troll and he won't stop touching you, bundling you up into the curve of his freakishly long body, petting the line of one of your thighs, kneading a tense muscle there, going back to rubbing the place your purr hums at the base of your thoracic cage. "I'm humoring you, dipshit, because apparently you fucked up too many cartwheels when you were a wriggler and sloshed most of your panmatter out of your ears."

Gamzee gives a rattling, huffing chirr of amusement, melting into an actual laugh when you growl at him. "If you say so, brother," he says, soothed amiable, and nips at the back of your neck again, where he's definitely going to leave a really obvious mark for all of your chucklefuck hatefriends to hoot about.

"You're embarrassing both of us."

"Aww, motherfucker, that right?"

"You're-- It's not a-- What do you fucking think I am, some kind of--of touch-dependent mammal, huddling in its shitty brood-den with all its wriggling, hairless birth-pupas--"

Gamzee's snickering at you again. "I bet mammals don't purr so nice, best friend."

"Fuck you," you say again, with feeling, and twist half-heartedly at his grip again. He clicks his fangs, a disappointed little noise, and just holds you tighter, tight enough it aches just a little. Tight like it doesn't matter what you are or what you want, or what you don't want to want. He's not letting you go.

You don't like it. You don't, you don't, you don't. A good troll wouldn't. You don't.

He's mumbling some kind of highblood benediction into your hair, some nightmarish honking thing about being anointed in the wicked elixir and the stardust in your eyes. But his claws come to your face, a huge, cool frond wrapped all the way around to cup your cheek, and when his thumbclaw rests on your lip it's just heavy enough to shut you the fuck up, just light enough you know he's not going to hurt you. Just threatening enough to send a thrilling pale shiver through your palms and down your spine, and safe like you can only be like this.

"Little motherfucker gets so fucking hungry for it when he's lonely," Gamzee murmurs, and presses a little harder when you try to open your mouth to argue. "Nah-ah-ah, best friend, shoosh. Shhhh. You're so motherfucking warm, and look at you all soft all over, like clouds or some shit... Lemme all get my feel on. Get a good motherfucking grab-around at you going."

You bite his finger in revenge, a whole lot gentler than you could considering how tough highblood skin is. He laughs at you and then moves all in a rush, pins you into a tight little ball with your arms at your sides and your knees to your chest and dunks you in the sopor, bringing you up growling and squirming.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Shooshing," he says, and pats your face again with a stupid-sounding splap-splap noise. "Rowdy little motherfucker's gotta chill the fuck down. And hey, check it out."

His hands find both of your horns, and he combs the sopor through your hair with delicate clawtips and then rubs the sopor at the roots of your horns, right where thin skin gives way to the slight velvet at the bases.

The cool pressure feels completely different combined with the humming, numb-sensitive tingle of sopor, and you're immediately rendered hopelessly, humiliatingly compliant. You melt like a frozen beverage block at high noon in the desert. You make a noise you would murder any of your enemies or friends for hearing. You croon like a pupa who just discovered cotton candy. You'll fucking savage him if he stops.

"...'S real motherfucking sweet how you like it," he says again, peacefully, and this time you feel way too damn good to make yourself argue.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: Hiveswap/Homestuck +

Character: Lanque Bombyx

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic Pale relationship

Type of fic: Hc

Other Info: Mb a olive blood reader

Thank you in advance<3!!!

I can't tell for most of your requests what quadrant you mean as all quadrant relationships are romantic in troll culture, but I see Pale, so I'll give it a shot for you. I hope I'm getting this right?

So maybe Anon, if you still read these and you requested the rest of em, tell me this, are you trying to say all your requests are general for pairing or a specific Quadrant because I have them all set to Moirail/Pale currently.

Yandere! Moirail! Lanque Bombyx

(Darling is mentioned to be an Olive Blood at times)

Pairing: Moirail/Pale♦️

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Two-faced behavior, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood mention, Violence implied, Dubious relationship (Moirails).

Alright, this character can be difficult to write as his routes in Friendsim are both accurate and inaccurate.

There's times Lanque can be kind and patient, but there's times he can be the opposite and even flirtatious.

So my version would probably be a mix of his routes.

He'd probably lean into the more caring personality if we're talking Moirail! Lanque.

Lanque would be very biased towards his Moirail.

Your blood color doesn't entirely matter to him but you can be an Olive Blood if you want!

Although... I can see him being more manipulative towards you as an Olive Blood due to your lower blood color from him.

Y'know, due to all the issues caused by the blood caste situation.

With you he'd definitely have the personality of his first Friendsim route.

Poetic, kind, respects your boundaries, he's your perfect Moirail, isn't he?

There may be flirtatious undertones in his words at times but for the most part he seems very respectful.

Especially with your blood color as you both are in a similar group. (Olive, Jade, Teal, and Cerulean are technically middle caste iirc.)

However, I do HC Lanque as being two-faced.

Towards others he tends to be the more rude and sharp tongued personality.

He swaps personas when you aren't around, especially towards those he doesn't like.

This is a dangerous game to play for him if you're an Olive Blood.

Olive Bloods can hold grudges but are very helpful when it comes to helping others with relationships.

Which is probably why you two get along so well, he has so much relationship trouble.

Lanque is no doubt possessive of those he shares a quadrant with.

That includes you, his Moirail.

This is the reason he quickly becomes bitter towards those around you.

How dare you have other trolls in your Quadrants!?

Lanque would definitely antagonize your Matesprit if you had one.

Perhaps even your Kismesis.

As your Moirail, he feels he should know what's best for you.

Which leads to him threatening other trolls around you.

Lanque is probably still touchy with you but not in the Matesprit sense (in this concept, at least)

Due to his possessive behavior he may decorate you in Jade colors/his sign to show everyone you're his.

Despite him actually being foul to those around him, he still plays nice with you.

He's affectionate but manipulative.

He claims those around you are lying.

He would never go after them!

All he wants to do is share poetry with his beloved Moirail!

What's with all the Jade clothing with his sign?

Oh, he just doesn't want you getting hurt!

It's nothing to worry about, dear, just look at him!

I can see Lanque forcing those you have in other quadrants away from you.

Soon you end up breaking off your other relationships, but not Lanque.

No... your Moirail has been taking care of you all along!

What? Your Matesprit/Kismesis left you?

That's so sad... why not vent to him?

He'll hold you tight and shoosh pap you... it'll all be okay!

After all... Lanque would never leave you.

You're perfect for him... it's sad no one else can see that.

Lanque will act like he's innocent with you.

He'll hold you close and tell you you're okay.

All the while getting himself bloody by removing unwanted pests from around you.

You can cry on his shoulder and tell him how betrayed you feel.

Oh, poor grub... no need to fret!

Lanque would never betray you...

So just look at him... and only him.

[splickedylit]

In an earlier drabble Karkat admonished Gamzee for being bigoted to Dave despite ‘never caring about the hemospectrum’, but he seems to expect deference from Jade simply for being a Highblood (with KK telling him not to take it personally that she dared address him as an equal) so like….which one is it? Is it just the de’human’ization of aliens on alternia at play here?

Hope this doesn’t come off weird, Im just a tad confused 😅

Mm, I might tweak the phrasing a little to try to clarify what I was going for. So! The background thought of what I was writing; Gamzee doesn't really care about the hemospectrum, in that he doesn't know or especially care if, say, green is better or worse than rust. He's just aware that he's a highblood, and if the person talking to him isn't a seadweller, he's used to them treating him with a certain degree of capital-R Respect. Since 1. that's the least that most highbloods would expect, 2. other trolls almost never challenge it, 3. when they do, he is generally more chill than another highblood would be, and tends to laugh it off as long as they don't keep on pushing him, and 4. Karkat is his moirail and tends to see him in that context, Karkat considers Gamzee abnormally chill and permissive when it comes to hemospectrum shit, and is startled to see him fall back into thoughtlessly-superior-highblood mode with what he sees as very little provocation.

But also the parts from Gamzee's POV we get a few comments that were intended to show a little more awareness than Karkat thinks he has. The lines about how humans should be grateful the empire didn't destroy them, and about how of course a blueblood who'd gotten mouthed off to would lash out and then expect gratitude/fawning and apology from Dave as a response. Humans don't get him and he doesn't get them, they're intruding on his quadrants and they don't give him the baseline of deference that he's kind of subconsciously used to, so they feel hostile/rude to him. And also, Karkat's just not 100% reliable as a source! He sees a slightly biased view of his loved ones in the same way all of us do, haha.

[ase-trollplays]

Things Left Unsaid

Despite two and a half sweeps having passed, Mareth's grave still stood where Thiomi and Corali left it. The land had reclaimed the disturbed ground as thick wild grass and weeds grew where the blueblood was buried, and the makeshift headstone was covered in plant overgrowth from sweeps of neglect. It was doubtful anyone just passing through would have even realized it was there if they hadn't already known to look for it.

Thiomi could feel a knot the size of a brick form in her stomach as she laid her eyes on it. What a sorry state it was in. That alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes. How dare she let her late moirail's grave fall into such ruin. Just further proof that she never deserved her if she couldn't even fight off her guilt enough to keep her resting place presentable. With a sigh, she got to work pulling the weeds and cleaning the large, upright rock that symbolized her headstone. The shallow, unrefined carving of Mareth's name was long faded and barely visible now, but it didn't have to be visible. Thiomi knew it was there, if not physically then in spirit.

It took well over an hour to bring her grave to its former glory, and Thiomi looked it over with a mixture of pride and guilt before taking a seat before it and removing a bagged lunch from her sylladex.

"Hello, Mareth. It's been... a while. I'm s-sorry I never came back after burying you. Considering the circumstances of your death, I didn't think I deserved to. I was s-sure you wouldn't want me here, either."

She removed a thermos from the bag, wisps of steam gently trickling out as she removed the lid and poured some of the potato soup into the cap to sip. The knot in her stomach hadn't budged since she arrived, but she forced the soup down regardless.

"I wish I could s-say a lot's changed in the time you've been gone, but... it really hasn't. At least, I haven't changed much. I made s-sure all your cats went to loving homes, s-so you can rest easy knowing they're being taken care of. ... My matesprit and I are s-still raising Varoll. I wish I'd gotten to introduce you to her; you would have gotten along really well, I think.

"S-Sonja and I are on better terms. His less s-stable half has a matesprit now, s-so he's not interested in me anymore. He bullies me if we happen to cross paths, but I've accepted he's always going to hate me. The other half and I decided to be friends. I'm nervous, but I think we can pull it off, especially s-since he has his own moirail now. I don't know much about her, but s-she s-seems really good for him, so I'm glad.

"I also enrolled in therapy. I've learned a lot about myself... and it's all bad. I have s-so many things wrong with me, things I already knew and... and s-so much I wasn't aware of. Heh, I'm a real mess."

Thiomi took another sip of her soup and wiped her eyes to get rid of the tears forming.

"Corali and I aren't s-speaking anymore. I know you two never got along, and you hated being neighbors with her, but you have a lot more in common than either of you realized. You could have been amazing friends. I know it's not your fault that never happened. Corali hates highbloods too much, especially bluebloods, unfortunately.

"It's my own fault my friendship with Corali ended. S-she came to me for help with her alcoholism, and... and I took advantage of her s-situation for my own gain. S-she reminds me s-so much of you, and before I knew it, I was trying to replace you with her.

"You're both alcoholics, but s-she was trying to quit. S-something I begged and pleaded for you to do. All the help I tried to do for you -- Trying to make you cut down on your drinking, giving you locations and times for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, making you promise me you would try to get better -- she took it without question.

"At s-some point, it s-stopped being about helping her and became a way of atoning for my mistakes with you."

Tears fell into her cap of soup, which she clenched in her hands and gripped like it was her life support. Pitiful whines and hiccups escaped her as she let herself weep. Thiomi didn't try to stop the tears from falling or wipe them away and instead allowed herself to wallow in utter misery.

"I never moved on from causing your death. Two and a half s-sweeps later, and it s-still hurts. It s-still hurts like it did when we found your body that night. I keep replaying that night wishing I could go back and s-stop myself, and that I would have been more patient with you instead of constantly nagging and pressuring and pushing you to do what I wanted for your own good. I s-should have let it be your choice on your own terms. I s-should have been patient and respected your autonomy.

"I was a bad moirail, and you paid the price for it. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that.

"But..."

She forced herself to straighten up, sniff back her tears, and wipe her eyes. She looked up for the first time since she took a seat and stared at Mareth's headstone.

"... I know I can't keep s-staying here, s-stuck in the past wishing things could be different. You're gone because of mistakes that I made, and I have to make peace with that and move on. The grief may never truly go away, but I can't let it hold me back anymore."

With a sigh, Thiomi poured her half-eaten soup back into the thermos and placed it back in the bag with the water bottle and the orange she ended up not touching. She placed the meal back into her sylladex and stood to walk up to the headstone. She knelt down in front of it and tightly wrapped her arms around it in a tearful embrace.

"I... I'm s-sorry. I'm s-so... I'm s-so s-sorry. I'll never be able to apologize enough, and I'll never not be s-sorry. I can't change the past, but I can do better not to repeat my mistakes. That's how I'll do right by you."

She stayed silently weeping and hugging the rock for several minutes before she finally let go. She gave the makeshift headstone one last look before standing up and starting to walk away.

"I promise I won't take another two and a half s-sweeps to s-see you again."

[isabelguerra]

the angle i’m working on here is ‘isabel<>ed since age 4’, then ‘max joins the dynamic and isaac begins perusing a <> despite the reality of the nature of their relationship’, then ‘chapter 4 happens and isabel finds herself with someone she can actually trust to have her back which shifts to something working towards a potential isabel<>max’. this is not taken well by early-thru-mid-ch5 era isaac, who begins harboring unhealthy resentment and jealousy disguised/misunderstood as an isaac<3<isabel.

meanwhile in gym class; hitball rival captainry and jock proximity begins harboring a subtle and undetectable yet potentially genuine johnny<3<isabel, with both continuously trying to one up each other and exchanging grouchy but fun+equally matched insults. nothing is really blossoming yet, just planting seeds. during all this ed watches as his moirail drifts away towards someone that might fit <> better for her and, similarly to isaac, begins gaining (misunderstood) <3< feelings for max.

these are dispelled (probably) by the end of ch5, alongside isaacs pseudo pitch pursual as things mellow down with the end of the chapter. also spender and garcia have been on a tumulous but steady <3 for the past several years. however in chapter 13 when max receives a strange video game in the mail it becomes increasingly evident that their lives are all about to become more homebodied. dare i say about to become more homestu[gunshot]

[davekat-sucks]

In Nepeta's shipping wall, we can see pale Karkat x Kanaya :D !!

And I like the "hmmmm" for pale GamKat And the "Oh nooooooo" for red VrisKat

After the events of Murderstuck and the shit happening on the meteor in Act 6, I can definitely see Karkat and Kanaya being moirails. Trying to comfort each other after all the crazy shit happened and helping the other not to lose it. The GamKat definitely was a foreshadow, just that the roles were switched. It's always funny to see the difference in reaction with Vriskat over her slight bias KatNep. Can't blame her and those of the fandom have been through that kind of feeling. Self inserting over the other. There are probably people in the fandom that have thought of Vriskat as redrom. Would be interesting to see more come out of it. Fun fact: Originally from Andrew Hussie, Rose and Kanaya were meant to be moirails at first. Not matesprits.

I can see it as Kanaya trying to calm Rose down as she tries to get through the game and possibly comfort her about losing her mother. Rose in turn, will help Kanaya try to help her get over Vriska and her emotions from being stuck on the meteor. It would be sweet to see. With that moirails in mind and Hussie even saying not everyone in the diamond quadrant stays together forever, makes me think that he knows that at some point, Equius and Nepeta will act as functioning normal beings that they won't need each other later on. They will be friends, but nothing deep like pale quadrants. I think that's what people forget about moirails. It is not the same as friendships. The pale quadrant's purpose is for two trolls to help calm the other down. Sure with friends, there are moments one has to help the other not lose their shit. But for the purpose of Alternia, it's to help the trolls not act too crazy to the point where they harm themselves or others. Think of it like the moiraillegiance between Eridan and Feferi. Feferi stops Eridan from going true genocide. Yes, she had pointed out that he had never went through to killing. But it doesn't stop her from thinking the scenario could happen if she was not around. Like the genocide could still happen if he someday decides to not help feed Feferi's lusus. She was there to check Eridan's mental state. There were hints from both Equius and Nepeta's side that if the other weren't present, the two would have become unstable. Which makes me think of what would happen if they weren't moirails. Would Equius go far to be racist like Eridan that he would try to kill lowbloods that dare look his way? Would Nepeta act more feral that not only she kills lusus for food and paint, but may go far to hunt trolls that may accidentally cross her path? With the two seen together in the comic, you couldn't tell they had some previous problems. Besides maybe Equius and his blatant racism. But that's still just a norm for him in Alternian standards. Maybe it is the fact that Equius and Nepeta as ARquiusprite and Fefpetasprite, being separate in a way for the first time, that lead to ARquiusprite to become Lord English and the mess within how the Alpha Kids acted around each other. Nepeta wouldn't be near around to have stopped or saved her closest moirail from becoming part of the big bad. Whether it is trying to help Equius control Lil Hal's side or make sure he was not going to be part of Lord English's plans. While ARquius could have tried to speak with Fefpeta about her approach with someone like Roxy or Jane. That while being nice to the humans is fine, there has to be times she will have to be firm or blunt, disciplining on some of their bad behavior. It would be cool to see that Equius and Nepeta's moiraillegiance ended with Equius being able to tolerate lowbloods that he sees them as equals. Nepeta will be able to separate her feral side and become a mature person. She doesn't have to give up roleplays, but she will know the time and place to be serious when the situation calls for it. Both of them would be the true examples of the pale quadrant, helping other to become a better person not only to each other, but to the other people around them. That's why Eridan with Feferi and Gamzee with Karkat, didn't work out. One or the other were not able to help their partner from becoming unstable, thus their lack of action or assurance that the other is mentally sound, causes an effect that harms not only to the two party members, but to others around them. See Murderstuck and Gamzee serving Lord English as a result.

[nintendont2502]

Quick OC round up because I just realised I don't have a single post with all of them (a crime)

Scylan - she/her - violetblood - Seer of Doom - Moirails w/ Arrtem - very outgoing (in good and. Not so great ways)

Arrtem - he/him - violetblood - Page (?) of Breath - Moirails w/ Scylan - tends to space out and/or "accidentally" ghost people for like a week straight

Kerakt - they/them - goldblood - Prince (?) of Space - matespirits with Ciripi - monotone, barely shows emotion, claims they hate everyone (are they joking? Who knows!)

Ciripi - she/her - oliveblood - ??? of Void - matespirits with Kerakt - BITES YOU BITES YOU BITES YOU

Tailiv - she/her - purpleblood - totally isn't casteist! She loves everyone, even those lowbloods beneath her! She's just *that* nice (and don't you dare say otherwise)

[sasster]

Ailzea, you’ve met Orfuse before right? Have we ever asked about your option on him after having chatted?

"You did not ask my opinion, only for the substance of our conversation. We spoke of the life of my ancestor, for Orfuse's work."

>Ailzea seems to be focused on the doll he was repairing before you'd entered, his gaze shifts back to it at he speaks.

"I considered him to be eccentric, I thought his excitement for his work was lovely. Dare I say, infectious."

>Get it because... His emotions.. He doesn't. He wouldn't have.

"He made even speaking of my ancestor a comfortable experience, but even then I could tell his mind wandered to other sources of stress. Hindsight tells me he was wondering after the future of his moirail.

With a mind always wandering toward the past and the future, it is no wonder he is apprehensive to entertain the present."

>He holds the doll up to inspect it, satisfied with his work he sets it to the side and grabs another from a bin of ruined toys.

"I do hope he will not make the mistake again."

[goldenguillotines]

💗 for monsters and fae

Visual attractiveness - 💗💗💗

I mean.. Vanmit does think she's pretty. However there isn't a lot he can say? He doesn't understand fashion too much. He values comfort over style.. and he sometimes he thinks she looks.. Uncomfortable? Her outfit is rather elaborate.. he just hopes she doesn't sacrifice style for comfort.

Friendship level - ����💗💗💗

There's a lot of trust he puts in her.. a lot. However there is a bit of carefulness he has with her. He is worried she might take him on as a 'client' rather than actually as pale? Because she tends to shoulder so much of it.. and how awkward they tend to be.... he tries to put a little bit of a barrier there for both of their sakes haha.

Sexual desire - 💔

Uh. I don't think he's ever even thought of her that way even before his eldritch change

Romantic interest - 💗💗

He does care about her a whole lot.. yet there is a lot and dare I say a lot of insecurities and doubts he has. He is very worried she will leave him or something will ultimately try and take her away like his past moirail. He does value what they have a lot but at the same time.. a lil rocky on his end.

[zillyeh]

Dominos

The cool underground of the brooding caverns did little to settle Arthur’s nerves, but then again little ever did. Aside from fussing, but fussing time was over. The grubs that made it past the first cull comb of this batch were quiet. Sleeping in that pit with Delhon’s mother grub close by, other jades keeping watch.

He’d had enough for now. The disconnect was harder to make some nights, even for him of all people. 

It seemed it was the same for his moirail. Slightly up the outer spiral’s steps, she stood with her arms under her robes. A tall, severe woman with half her wrinkled face scarred, her long curls tied in a loose ponytail behind her. The Delhon Province cavern’s matron held her jaw steady as Arthur approached her.

“Layooa.” Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. She regarded him with sympathy, moving to touch her forehead to his.

“Alright, Vačice?” She asked, tucking a hair that had become unbraided back behind his rounded ear. Her other arm stayed close to her abdomen.

“You know the answer to that, revered mother.” He said, flourishing his wrist and pressing a hand to his forehead. In all honesty he did look pale- paler at least in the places vitiligo hadn’t made it impossible to tell.

“Don’t start with me, Dramatique. ” Layooa said with a roll of her eyes, nudging his shoulder. “You look like shit. Up.”

“Not overseeing through the day, then?” Arthur asked, allowing himself to be shuffled in front of her as they ascended the caverns’ stone stairs. “Can’t blame you, bloody fucking daymare down there.”

“Madrea can handle it.” She said, looking over her shoulder, as if checking whether or not they were alone. “How many were on our list?”

Arthur chewed the inside of his lip, hesitating to glance back at her.

“None.” He said tightly. “Hard to tell, but I don’t think any are going to escape that he’d have our heads over.”

“Good.” Layooa replied just as tightly. “I-”

A small, grating hiss, muffled by fabric sounded at her abdomen. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around to look at her. Her eyes widened, and the grip on whatever she had under her robes tightened. Stoic, hard assed Layooa, who’d taken her job as head culler of the Delhon caverns so seriously- who’d berated Arthur on more than one occasion for being too soft for cavern work- stood before him, a step down from him, grub noises emanating from a concealed lump in her arms.

“Yooa-” He started slowly. He hardly had time to form a second word before she’d shoved him up the landing, and into a supply closet. Even encumbered as she was she was faster than him, stronger. She kicked the door shut, holding her hand over his mouth.

“What are you doing?!” He cried, muffled against her gloved fist. 

“Shut up.” She breathed over his shoulder. Another hiss from under her robes, followed by a series of clicks that filled his veins with ice. His stillness made her let up, if only slightly.

“That’s not-”

“Arthur.” Layooa’s robotic eye glowed brighter than her real one as he searched her face in the darkness.

“Let me see her.”

“Not here.”

“Layooa-”

“You can’t fucking see in here anyway, Arthur. Up.” 

Arthur pushed out of the closet, practically running up the stairs. He slowed only to mask his urgency to passing colleagues, letting the fatigue he still felt usurp the electricity bottled in his chest. Layooa’s grimace and status were not something any of them dared to make eye contact with anyway, even with wiggling in her arms becoming more apparent as the lighting got better. He fumbled for his ring of keys as they ascended, walking as fast as his little legs would take him to his moirail’s quarters.

Arthur shoved himself into Layooa’s block once they reached the landing, pacing in her living room until the second she locked the door behind them.

“Arthur, relax.” Layooa chided as he ran his fingers through his abused braid, nearly jogging circles around her coffee table.

“Relax. R-relax, she says! Relax? Relax! Do you have any idea how-”

“Do you want to see her or not?” Layooa huffed, pulling her robe aside, though covering her precious cargo with her sleeve still. 

“Yes, yes show me her.” Arthur scrambled across the room where Layooa met him, shiny grub in her arms. Her horns were smaller, but identical, long and curving up at the side of the head, with two pointy little bumps near her skull. More importantly, and perhaps more shockingly, her shell was-

“Black.” He breathed, the tiny little thing’s outer carapace like an oil slick under the light, swirling colors that did not reside under that protective layer. Purple seemed to dominate the color visible to the eye, above all others. Even in her eyes.

“Explains how she got to pupate in Enfaris.” Layooa said, stroking the thick little shock of hair on her head with her thumb.  

“She d-doesn’t have the-” Arthur made a motion to his lower face. Layooa met his eye.

“I pray she never does.” She said firmly. “Do you want to hold her?” Arthur was practically already taking her out of her arms as she asked. “I warn you she-”

“Ow.”

“Bites.”

“Ow!”

“Hard.”

The now cranky grub in Arthur’s arms hissed, wriggling to get out of his hands, chomping wherever she could find purchase. Layooa snickered, watching him struggle.

“Oh those are G-Gozjam teeth al- ow- ow! Take her back, take her back!”

“She doesn’t like the stress you bring, Arthur.” Layooa hummed, the grub immediately relaxing once again in her arms. The few bloody spots on Layooa’s exposed fingers were not lost on him.

“Evidently.” Arthur winced as he held the finger her teeth split open the worst. “Identical to Azzy, then.”

The name of their late friend finally being spoken out loud shifted the air between them. The Gozjam grub clicked her three little clicks in her throat, and Layooa took a breath.

“You’re insane.” Arthur said before she could speak again.

“Yes.” Layooa said, a look in her eyes that told him he was far beyond talking her out of whatever plan she was formulating.

“Layooa he will kill us b-both if we- we’re lucky enough he hasn’t found out we didn’t give him his d-descendant, Yooa. It’s only a matter of t-time before-”

“He can have my head.” Layooa said firmly. “You didn’t know about this.”

“You know god damn well that isn’t how Amillo operates, Yoo! You and I are exactly the same to him and you know it!” Arthur was frustratedly trying to keep his volume down, but finding it difficult. 

Layooa pondered the grub in her arms, almost as if she didn’t hear him somehow. 

“What are you going to do, Yooa, raise her yourself?” Arthur practically pleaded. “He will absolutely f-find her if you keep her down here.”

“Arthur.”

 “The other jades will-”

“Arthur.”

“What about Fallon? He’ll go right after him next once he kills me and then-”

“Arthur.” Layooa demanded dangerously. “Shut. Up. You forget that I am not entirely a sentimental moron, I suppose? Come here.”

Layooa draped her robes back over the grub. She took him by the arm, leading him further into her quarters. To a set of stairs Arthur had never ascended before just off the kitchen. The claustrophobic walls reminded him why. 

After what felt like too long, they came out of a hatch, daylight blazing through leaves above. Warm, air breezed past the two of them, like nothing Arthur had felt in ages.

“You can get t-to the surface from your room?” Arthur asked, squinting so his eyes could adjust.

“Matron’s perks.” She said, putting her hood up. “In case of emergency, I have no obligation to any of you. Except you, I suppose.”

“Thanks.” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, following her a short way to their destination. Arthur could hear where they were going before he saw. The shrill honks of horned geese were unmistakable. There must have been a half dozen of them in the little pond beyond the treeline they stopped at. Only some had lusus coloring, but even they seemed to be just as interested in tending to the fuzzy goslings learning to swim.

“Azveja always said her lusus would have been some big mean bird.” Layooa sighed wistfully, eyeing the largest of the bunch. Arthur looked to her, then to the goose that was eying her right back.

The bird made a noise that sounded like three consecutive little ‘ah’s.

“You’ve been planning this.” He breathed, some ache growing in his chest.

“If anyone deserves a second chance, Arthur…”

Arthur bit his lip, resting his hand on the grub under her robes. The grub stirred, but this time did not have such a violent reaction to his touch. Layooa watched him, as the bird on the other side of the clearing watched him. Its eyes shone the color Arthur knew was at his finger tips, underneath the only thing that could have possibly saved her from the cull tonight.

“You will be the death of me, Caheen.” Arthur sighed, bumping her shoulder with his forehead.

“Go for Miles’ eyes when he figures us out, Artie.” She said, tucking  his hair behind his ear once more. “You were always better at that than me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. “Do you… think she’s going to be alright?”

Layooa snorted, peeking into her robes at the now snoring grub.

“As long as she stays away from the city, or- god forbid- clowns, she’s golden.”

[palestporn]

Gamzee: Seduce???? You guess????

He's smaller than you--you got warned all the time coming up how you gotta be careful, being big like you are. You're real slow and soft when you reach out and take his hand and coax it over to rest on your throat.

His claws are filed like yours, but they're not dulled--he's got them sharp as his sickles, sharp enough you lose a hard breath when they touch you, even though you put them there yourself. He goes still too, and when you look up at him and lean your face against his knee his claws twitch against your neck.

"He's never wanted me a night in my life," you say, and fight the prickle of his claws and the growling whisper in your skull, and close your eyes. "Seems like maybe it's you I should've been looking for."

"He-- Oh," says the Second Coming, and chokes on the words a little bit. "What, never?" And then before some bruise on your soul can drive a wince out of you at that, "Well, I mean. I already knew he's an idiot, so."

Dangerous shit to say about the Sufferer Redeemed. But he said it, not you, and it sends an echo of a laugh ringing around your thinkpan. You can't hold back half a laugh of your own, and he looks surprised like he didn't realize you could find shit funny, and then pleased like it's something worth doing to win a laugh from you.

Well shit, motherfucker, maybe you can make this work. A real conciliatrix plays "moirail" a lot closer--you're sure the fuck not that. It's not his business to soothe you back, and not his interest to care your opinion on shit. Just something for him to be kind or cruel to, calm himself down. Maybe talk some shit out at. Maybe say things you wanted to know.

"I'm not really...supposed to go to the quadrant hivesuites," says the Second Coming, thoughtful now, looking you over. "I didn't think we had any blood colder than teal."

He touches at the place on the rim of your ear where a purpleblood's half-fins would've used to be. Feels weird, a touch on the scars there, and your ear flicks away before you find presence of thinkpan to stop it--his claws slide to your cheek, so close by your eye you don't dare to blink, and then drop down to touch your neck again and linger this time on what used to be empty gillslits, scarred now, sealed shut.

His gold and jewels are cool, but his hand is hot on your pulse. Sudden urge to turn and sink your fangs in is hungry and powerful. You close your eyes again instead, and keep on smiling, and overhead you hear him give a low, thinking growl.

"He...wouldn't touch anyone colder than teal," he says slowly. "Especially not pale. He's got some kind of fucking baggage going on about it. So either the old man's hiding more from me than I thought, or this is the dumbest, globesiest assassination attempt in the history of the universe." His claws dig in just barely. "So, how about you tell me exactly what's going on."

Gamzee: Tell him...

==> ...You've got no clue, you just wanted someone to want you. ==> ...His ancestor lets you stay; you don't know why he's so kind. ==> ...His ancestor locked you away; he's scared of something in you. ==> ...If he keeps touching you like that you'll tear his frond off. ==> ...Everything.

[START OVER]

[oleandy]

I think moirails are primarily platonic but can edge into romantic depending on the pair but still a deeply inappropriate relationship for say a child and adult to have regardless.

I think the fact that meowrails are reunited as siblings (fused with davesprite a hal) for me confirms that moirails are not inherently romantic.

oh my god i need to reread homestuck how dare i forget the arquius/davepeta reunion. i remember the selfies

you make a very good point here!!! also going back to reread some of it, this is a nice interaction

[vikkirosko]

🧃🪐 anon: hii!! How has your day been? Have you heard about Hurricane Ida? It's supposed to hit where I am in a few hours or so,,,

May I ask for a headcanons with Rufioh, Kurloz, Mituna, and possibly Terezi??? With a (Nonbinary alt/goth) S/o who has adhd and gets over-stimmulated (symptoms; troubled focusing, irritated/angry, extreme discomfort) starts stimming/fidgeting after someone started being rude and screaming at reader?

🧃🪐: this happens a lot to me in public and I end up crying as soon as I'm in a secluded place

Hi. I really hope you're okay. Just a few minutes ago, I saw footage of what is happening in the area where the hurricane should be. I'm not sure if it should pass, or if it has already passed. Please take care of yourself and write if everything is in order

Headcanons Discomfort

♉ Rufioh Nitram x Reader 🧡

Rufioh always noticed when you started to worry and get annoyed. He treated this with understanding, because he knew about your situation, but unfortunately not everyone was as understanding

He saw your reaction when someone started yelling at you or when someone was rude to you. He always stood up for you. He understood that you would not fight back, so he gave it instead of you, if he did not succeed, he tried to minimize the conflict

If he was not there when someone offended you, then he would find you crying all alone. He always calmed you down. He didn't want you to feel bad

Rufioh has always tried to be there to support you. He was worried about you. He didn't want you to get hurt

♑ Kurloz Makara x Reader 💀

Kurloz has often noticed that you look like his moirail. He took care of you, calmed you down and supported you. When he was near you, no one dared to be rude to you or yell at you

On those rare times when he found you crying, he always hugged you and comforted you. He was very worried about you and always tried to find out who was to blame for your crying

You didn't know, but Kurloz always punished your abusers. He cherished you very much and did not want those who hurt you to go unpunished

Kurloz has always been kind and understanding to you. He took care of you and was always there for you. Although he didn't say a word, his actions said much more

♊ Mituna Captor x Reader 🛹

Mituna understood your condition better than others. He himself quite often had problems with focusing and outbursts of irritability. He perfectly saw when you were uncomfortable and who was the cause of your discomfort

When he saw that you were getting annoyed because you were shouted at or when someone was rude to you, he did not stay away. He started shouting and swearing at your abuser. He didn't control what he said, but he knew for sure that he wanted to protect you

If he found you crying, he always hugged you and tried to cheer you up. But quite often your condition took over and you cried together

He was the only one who perfectly understood how you felt. He understood how hard it was for you. Therefore, he tried to support you and not let others offend you

♎ Terezi Pyrope x Reader 🐲

Terezi has always felt changes in your condition. She knew perfectly well when you were calm, when you were annoyed and when you were on the verge of tears

She always punished your abusers. You didn't even have time to go to a quiet place to cry, as Terezi was already doing justice

When you cried, she always said that you smell like salted caramel. She always hugged you and tried to cheer you up

Terezi didn't show it, but she was worried about you. She understood that it was hard for you, and therefore tried to understand your irritability and not let others say rude things to you

[trollcafe]

Inferno

Length: 2155 Words TW: General Violence, brief mention of drugs. Brief: Boe causes problems for Bruuno. Credits: there's a reference to the Divine Comedy.

Google Docs

Bruuno knew the office building like the back of his hand. Walking in through the back cargo entrance was the easiest way in. The violet guard had basically watched Bruuno grow up and actually smiled as he passed. He towered over the violet at this point but always felt a small connection to the stranger, and made a point of smiling back. The elevator complained loudly when Bruuno stepped inside. The elevator only had twelve buttons. The thirteenth button was disguised as the emergency alarm. It was muscle memory by now, Bruuno held the alarm as it rang for fourty five seconds. The alarm stopped and the elevator started to go up.

It opened into a dimly lit hallway. Expensive art decorated the walls, each painting in the same exact spot as it had been the first time Bruuno walked past them. They always had a way of making him feel small. Chilly air encouraged him to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The secretary was gone, but the door to Boe's office was unlocked, so Bruuno invited himself inside.

"Hello, Bruuno. Always a treat to see you. How are you? It's been ages." Boe's voice filled the silence immediately. The jade had been waiting, standing in the center of his wide office. He always spoke too much. Despite being spoken to, Bruuno instantly knew something was wrong. There was a deafening silence. More notably, there was no fuchsia wriggler jumping up and bodyslamming him while laughing.

"Where's Shi?" Bruuno turned to the jade with a look of confusion. Boe's relaxed smile planted a seed of worry in the fuchsia's chest. His shoulders lifted slightly in a nonchalant shrug, as if they were discussing the location of a book and not a child.

"She's safe." Boe's voice, smooth as silk and honey, did nothing to ease the growing concern.

"I didn't ask if she was safe." Bruuno stepped closer to Boe, brow furrowed, "I asked where she was."

"And I asked how you were. You've been clean for a while, isn't that nice?" Boe closed the gap between him and his former charge. Bruuno's intimidation attempt went entirely ignored, the jade was seemingly unafraid of anything Bruuno may do. Boe's hands left his pockets so he could straighten the fuchsias' jacket, closing it slightly. "Your little moirails helped with that, right? Awfully sweet of them. You really owe them one."

"I don't owe anyone shit." Bruuno didn't stop Boe from touching him, but made no effort to hide the hostility in his voice. "Boznik, where is Shiloh?"

"Mmm, wrong there buddy. You still owe me." Boe smiled and patted Bruuno's chest, knowingly ignoring the constant pestering over Shiloh. Bruuno's expression must have been blatantly confused once again, because Boe laughed. The jade turned away from the conversation, walking over to his desk. He straightened out some papers as he continued.

"I only let you go because you became a liability. Became sloppy! Messy! Hard to fix your mistakes. You must've thought you were so smart, blaming that pesky little addiction problem on your matesprit. I knew what you were doing, Bru. You're not as clever as you think you are." Boe snickered softly as he spoke. Normally an unprofessional move, but Boe didn't care too much for the formalities when it came to his former charge. "I saw what you did to that other little fish, Klasha's brother. Both arms! Impressive! Ripped them off like they were nothing! Now Bruuno, that is the man I raised." Boe paused and looked up from his desk. Bruuno's silence was deafening as the horror started to sink in.

"I let you have your little fun. I helped you, even. You got to have your fifteen minutes of fame. You seadwellers live for so long...it really was just fifteen minutes out of that ancient lifespan of yours. And be honest with yourself Bru, who do you think helped you get there?" Boe's voice got softer, near a whisper, "I spared your life. I gave you fame. I let you have this glorious little life. And now you have to pay me back."

Each word that left Boe's mouth was a dash of salt on the ever growing wound. Anger started like milk on the stove, it always did. Slowly and slowly heating. One had to keep their eye on the pot every second it was there. It was so easy to just glance away for a moment, but doing so would cause the entire pot to boil over. Bruuno's anger was the same, growing slowly and unchecked until the pot boiled over and the contents burned everything around it.

"I never fuckin' asked you to spare me." Speaking between his teeth did little to hide the venom dripping from his voice. "I would've fuckin' preferred you didn't. But I didn't get a fuckin' say in any of this." Bruuno's fins pressed down flat like a cornered cat's ears.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Boe's smirk faded into an unamused frown. Any normal troll would've thought twice about being alone in a room with such a furious highblood. Boe knew better than anyone how catastrophic highblood rage could be. And yet, he stood before Bruuno, cool as a cucumber, collected as ever. He knew in his heart that Bruuno was a pushover, too soft to cause problems or stir the pot. Boe knew the troll he raised, how could he not?

Just as Boe knew Bruuno would never hurt him, Bruuno knew the jade would never harm Shiloh. There was an unspoken line between them that neither would dare to cross. Shiloh happened to stand directly on that line. Despite his rage, Bruuno knew Shiloh would be fine. She was most likely with Chowow, or Kamuuk, and they just hadn't told him. She certainly hadn't a single clue what was going on. Good, because this wasn't about her. His anger was less about Shiloh, and more the sheer audacity. The gall that Boe possessed to even dream of having that control over Bruuno's life. As the two stared each other down, Boe felt safe. Secure. He was certain that Bruuno would bend to his whim. After all, the fuchsia seemed to bend however someone wanted him to, why would he do any differently to Boe?

Boe's sense of security held Bruuno in his place. He felt small, smaller than he ever had in his entire life, because he knew what Boe thought of him. A passive troll who simply wishes to please everyone, who has no self worth beyond what he can present to others. He had done so much to get to where he was in life. Even if Boe really WAS pulling the strings, Bruuno was happy. He was genuinely happy with his life, the path he was heading down. For the first time in sweeps, Bruuno finally felt like he was healing. He no longer lamented over the torment he caused others, and the days spent awake wondering if karma would present itself with glittery fins once more seemed rare now. The pot of anger had boiled over moments ago, and was starting to burn in Bruuno's chest. One can never remember pain, brains aren't programmed to remember pain, but the raw burning in his lungs was so painstakingly familiar. It was an infection he covered up so well he started to believe it was really gone. An infection he had for so long that he almost felt empty when he covered it that well. Now that the anger fought through the makeshift gauze of happiness, Bruuno realized he missed it, in the same way someone misses a toxic friend or a migraine they had for too long. It had become a piece of him.

Bruuno remembered snippets from working under Boe, but more importantly he remembered how much he hated it. He hurt so many trolls for no reason beyond being told to. He was taught how to hold a gun before he was taught how to write. He learned the best methods of a hidden execution before he learned how to cook. The best took for pulling fingernails, pressure points to incapacitate someone, the direction to aim a weapon so it looked like an accident. From the best cleanup crew to call, to the safest places to dump a body, and the best excuses to tell a drone. Everything Boe taught him centered around pain and violence. Destroy lives and cause destruction for the sake of money and power. Breaking bones and shooting trolls at point blank did nothing but cause anxiety and depression, and created the insecurity that allowed Bubble to seep into his life like a virus. Bruuno was never happy with who he was or what he was doing. Who was Boe to decide if Bruuno got to be happy or not? Only Bruuno could decide that.

And Bruuno decided that he did deserve to be happy. That he didn't deserve this; not from Boe, or Bubble, Carina, the Empire, Shrivo, anyone else. He was worthy of being happy. And he didn't need to make himself valuable to others to be worthy of it.

By the time Bruuno had come to this mental conclusion, Boe had started and nearly finished another cheesy and demented monolog. He strolled right up to Bruuno once more, chattering away while folding some boring origami crane. At the end, he just crumpled the crane up in a dramatic show of power. It was apparent that he thought of himself as some kind of villain, that the hero in this story would do as every hero does. No hero would ever harm the villain, because that'd make them equal and just as evil.

But Bruuno was not Aeneas, nor was he Paul. There was hardly anything heroic about him.

"So, you see my point, Bru? Just a pawn in the game of life. An important pawn to some, sure. But you, too, can be so easily crushed." Boe's smile was sinister, but frankly Bruuno found it annoying. The burning anger had created the desire, no, the need to destroy, to break things.

The fuchsia silently looked at the crumpled paper in Boe's palm. After a moment, he gingerly took the crane from Boe. It was so small in his hand, so fragile, but he still craved to demolish it. Boe's smile returned, obviously pleased that his words stuck with his charge. That was, until Bruuno dropped the crane without a care and instead grabbed onto Boe's robotic wrist with one hand, and the opposite shoulder with his free hand. Without hesitating, Bruuno destroyed. He tore Boe's arm off, just as he had done with Meduza. The prosthetic came off like a breeze, but it was obviously never meant to, permanent prosthetics are so expensive and difficult to replace so they were secured in the socket so neatly. There was nothing neat about it now. Boe's expression was horrified. If he made a sound, Bruuno didn't hear it. All he heard was the crumbling of metal and the tear of flesh. The prosthetic may have been sturdy once but it bent and folded under the pressure of Bruuno's closing fist. The jagged parts of the metal cut his hand but the pain was a welcomed feeling, grounding almost.

The arm dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and Boe did too. Jade started to pool under him and stained his white button down. Boznik tried to prop himself up and move away, but was pushed back down by Bruuno's foot.

The weight of an 8 foot fuchsia on his chest was nothing compared to the weight of the trauma that hovers over Bruuno's heart constantly.

"How's that fer the man you raised? Still like 'im?" Bruuno's expression was deadpan as he spoke, with just enough weight on Boe's chest to hurt. "A real fuckin' asshole, ain't he? Takes after his lusus. Y'know how it is. Like lusus like son, eh?" A bitter laugh escaped, and only grew louder as more pressure was applied. Bruuno heard and felt a couple cracks, the pain being confirmed by Boe's strangled gasp of pain.

Boe was no stranger to pain, but the crushing weight on his chest and white hot burning from his arm had him fading in and out. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible, and was instantly better as Bruuno got off his former lusus.

"I hope we both rot, ya daft fuckin' jackass. Don't try this shit again." Bruuno wasn't certain if Boe even heard him, but he felt better saying it out loud.

He made sure to hit the emergency alarm on Boe's desk before he left out the way he came. The violet security guard was still at his post by the cargo entrance. The radio on his vest was going off with frantic chatter as Bruuno passed him.

He made sure to smile on his way out.