My favorite Homestuck fanfics
(Closed, Moderated)
Recent works
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Terezi picks up some candy and a date.
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Damara Megido puts up a good fight, but in the end they all just keep dying.
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Sollux Captor, recently drafted into the Service of Her Imperious Condescension, discovers a secret community of Helmsmen hidden inside the Imperial communications network.
Meanwhile on Alternia, Karkat Vantas is up to his goddamn nook in revolution.
Series
- Part 2 of One of Our Submarines
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Your revolution failed. Your moirail is dead. Your body's dangling helpless in the grip of a thousand burrowing biowires.
But your mind -- your mind is free.
[prequel for One Of Our Submarines]
Series
- Part 1 of One of Our Submarines
Recent bookmarks
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“Uh, I think your boobs just hissed at me.”
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Are you prepared for some crazy fucking pony adventures?
(An audio version of sonnetstuck's brilliant Detective Pony fanwork) -
we could do some damage by archaicTrashheap (ityellsback) for light_rises
Fandoms: Homestuck
22 Mar 2014
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Your name is Jade Harley and you are a fucking awesome spaceship.
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This apartment, these walls and corners, these floors and doorways, they’re Dirk’s refuge. His shell, his armor. This place is light and warmth in an endlessly empty dark sea, a piece of the past to cling to in the wreckage of the future. A gift from his brother, a birthday present, the present of having birthdays, of being a human in a place meant for humans. Dirk could go out on rocket board, on rap-bot, on rafts, following the gulls, living free out under the sky, sailing by the light of the stars, but always he’d return to his sanctuary, his roost, his home.
This apartment is Dave’s cage, and he spent thirteen years crammed up against the bars by a man who did not love him.
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...and yet, the details of the home planet's protective measures are hardly the business of snot-nosed, unfinished miniature people, at least in the eyes of those who concern themselves with such matters; which was why neither Karkat nor any of his many neighbors could grasp the implications of a round landing module impacting halfway into someone's dutifully watered lawnring, and then another, past a couple hives, somewhere in the distance, incredibly close to their walls — landing modules dropping one after the other from the janky, aged and clearly unofficial vessel in the sky, and not a drone in sight.
Trolls poured out of the module and spread towards the nearby hives, weapons in hand. They wore mismatched clothes and clunky prosthetics. They were very obviously adults.
Series
- Part 3 of The Golden Age