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Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Be an alien.

    It's not exactly waking. You don't think you were asleep. It's more like being gathered in, an explosion in reverse, thoughts and memories first and then a sense of your body being there, as if it wasn't before. Your weight; the press of the ground against your back. A tickle like grass, air moving on your skin. Why is that feeling so strong? It's like you're made of nothing but nerves.

    Just breathing is such a big damn deal right now. Opening your eyes might be a bad idea. The light on your eyelids is warm and yellow, the kind of light the humans like.

    Those fucking humans. You remember. They won. They won everything. They even won you. Won all of you back from your dead-end fucking universe and took you with them into their reality-spraining victory. Cheating nookstains didn't even fight; they won by 'shenanigans', that peculiarly human trick of winning-by-not-playing. And in that inside-out, backwards way of theirs, they never even considered keeping all the spoils for themselves.

    It should be so humiliating. It was humiliating in the moments between hearing what they intended and watching it start to happen. You were so fucking angry you wanted to rip your own fucking skin off and strangle yourself with it.

    Where'd the rage go?

    Later. Is the time for worrying about that. Now is the time for shielding your eyes so you can open them. The light makes you squint and blink, but it's not really painful. Not at all, in fact, after your eyes have had a few moments to adjust. Which is absurd, because that is definitely daylight shining through shimmering leaves, definitely a pale blue sky above the trees.

    And then you notice your hand.

    "What."

    Your hand is... pink.

    "What the actual fuck." You sit up abruptly, stick your hands out in front of you and stare at them as if you can turn them normal by glare power. They stay pink. Your skin is as thin and translucent as a human's. No wonder it's so sensitive.

    Your hands fly to the top of your head. Horns, please still be there -- you gasp in relief as your fingers find them. But your hair is weirdly soft and limp, and your ears are round, too high on your head, even more sensitive than your hands. You probe your teeth with your tongue. The front ones are flat. You have stupid flat omnivore teeth, and you can only thank the sticky dregs of your luck that they don't jut out and retardify your face like John's do.

    What the nonsensical bulgesucking crazyfuck is going on here?

    Your surroundings are not exactly chock full of answers. Trees, grass, bizarrely non-burny sunlight. The new world the humans created. Their idea of paradise. Which... is your idea of paradise too, really, because it's a whole lot like their world, which the twelve of you made. It's kind of nice to know they appreciated it enough to want to make one so much like it, you guess.

    Nothing weird seems to be going on with your feet and legs, at least, so nothing keeps you from exploring in search of answers. Answers, not friends. You're not quietly terrified that something went wrong at the last instant and you're the only one here. That hot twist in your stomach is just... hunger. Or a virus or something. Maybe it's where your rage is hiding.

    And when you spot a familiar pair of horns silhouetted against the brightness of a clearing, although you break into a sprint, it's not out of sheer relief. You're just in a hurry to do some reality-checking, that's all. "Tavros, holy shit, please be real."

    Who said that last bit there? Was that you?

    "Hi, Karkat," he grins, trotting to meet you. Trotting like a silly little wiggler, not rolling in a chair or lurching on robot legs or lying around being dead and

    why are you sudddenly hugging him

    there's nothing quadranty about it but it feels good like

    like

    you don't even have a goddamn analogy, this makes no sense but never mind that, "Why are you fucking brown?"

    You release each other from this weird derpy human-hug, and he bounces back enough for you to look each other over. Tavros is sand-colored like you're pink, thin colorless human skin with the brown blood showing through. His horns are the same as they were, but his front teeth are flat and his ears are round. He's been halfassedly humanified just like you.

    The yellows of his eyes are white. Not yellow. (You're going to need a word for that part eventually. Not the 'whites' of his eyes, though, that's just dumb.) The irises are copper brown.

    "Oh shit," you say. "What the hell do my eyes even fucking look like right now? Actually wait. No. New plan. You don't tell me and I just pretend they're normal."

    Tavros beams like a doofus. "We're, aliens!"

    Fuck. He's right. You're aliens.

Chapter Text

==> John: Be an alien.

    "Oh wow, this is so cool! Rose, we have horns! How cool is that? It is so cool, that's how cool it is! Our DNA must've mixed with the trolls' DNA somehow when we got translated into this world! I had no idea that was going to happen, did you?" You have to let go of your new horns for a moment so you can flap your hands around as you bounce up and down a bit from sheer excitement, but then you go right back to exploring them. They go straight up for an inch or two and then do kind of an out-and-in curve like they're trying to draw a light bulb. They're not made of bone, you don't think; they're a little springy like cartilage and you can feel your hands touching them.

    "Springbok," Rose says, as if it's the conclusion of a long fact-finding mission.

    "Haha, what?"

    "A type of gazelle whose horns resemble those you're now sporting. They're incongruously elegant. I'll no doubt begin to envy them once I'm finished having quiet hysterics over the changes to my reproductive anatomy."

    You don't want to just say 'what' again, but... "What? Everything... er... seems to be in order over here, so what do you -- should I not be asking this? I shouldn't be asking this."

    "You haven't looked, I suppose," she says forgivingly. "I'm not surprised, come to think of it; your prudishness is part of your charm, so don't worry about it." She touches one of her new horns -- short and spirally, maybe even more neato than yours -- but she manages to make it be like a ladylike hair-patting gesture instead of checking that yes they're actually real.

    "No, but um. I can kinda... feel nothing's missing. Ahhhhh change the subject! How about these extra eyeteeth? Do we look like vampires or what? Haha, so cool --"

    "Hey Egderp." Dave has somehow managed to slip through the sparse woods to nearly within arm's reach without you seeing him. Hands in pockets, unperturbed by the flat discs of ram horns emerging from his spun-glass-pale hair. He effortlessly dodges your attempt at a hug-tackle.

    He is not, however, expecting Rose to shove him back into your path the next moment, so he catches your flying buddyhug attack right in the chest. With a slight chuckle, he gives in and lets you have a one-armed squeeze before gently pushing you off.

    "Don't get too cozy there, Egbert. I'm gonna have to requisition a little personal time to get the hang of my new hermaphrodite groove before I wanna deal with anyone else's."

    "Herma-what?" You laugh uncertainly. Now is a time for celebrating being alive! Not for being confused and awkward. But you guess not everyone is as good at celebrating as you.

    "Means we can power both ends of the cable, if you follow my descriptive drift. Simultaneous AC and DC. Bee-bird hybrid action." A pause to see if you get it. You blink at him. He twitches an eyebrow slightly. "You're both an innie and an outie now, bro. I am going to keep calling you bro, incidentally, because let's not get stupid with this. You telling me the second thing you did after finding out what's on your head was not shove your hands in your pants?"

    Several long, mortifying minutes later, you emerge from behind a nearby clump of bushes with your face flaming, walking as if you're trying to escape from your own crotch. Rose covers her mouth and looks away, but her eyes squinch up. Dave's poker-face is like iron.

    "I don't even know the words for these things!" you wail softly. Your distress is serious. Even though you and Dave pretend to flirt sometimes for a laugh, you have honestly never had even slightly homosexual feelings, so you have no use whatsoever for a... whatever it is. Innie.

    "I'm sure the trolls do," Rose says calmly. "I can make some guesses simply from their profanity. In any case, terminology aside, it appears that our gender is now expressed only by secondary sexual characteristics." She smirks slightly. "It would be delightful if those were similarly scrambled. A goatee would suit me, I think. And John, I would be honored to help you choose your first training bra."

    You reflexively grab at your chest to make sure it hasn't... changed. Then all three of you laugh, because that was a pretty dorky gesture even by your standards. If you had boobies now, so would Dave.

    No, apparently you all look like normal boys and girls. The confusion is all below the belt.

    Wait; if the human -- formerly human -- girls have outies now, does that mean the troll girls had them all along? You might have to re-examine your interactions with Vriska in a new light. And with Karkat too, because if there was no difference between him and her in the bathing suit area...

    Well, his goofy hatecrush was... well, in retrospect, it was... a lot more honest, actually... and even at the time you thought it was cute how awkward he was. In a buddy way, though. Like he was a badly-behaved but good-hearted cousin, trashing the drinks table at a family picnic. Looking back now, though...

    Looking back now...

    "Is something wrong besides the obvious, John?" Rose asks, and only then do you realize you've been rubbing your sternum, trying to massage away an elusive little ache, for...

    "How long did I space out? Never mind! We should find Jade!"

    "Hello!!!" As if summoned by her name, your ectosister calls out from among the trees. Still a long way off; you can barely see her waving.

    You turn to wave enthusiastically back, so she can see where to go. You shove your previous chain of thought away with the ease of a habit you don't even know you have. It makes you uncomfortable, so under the rug it goes. Much more important to see what Jade's new horns look like!

    And then, from the opposite direction, another voice calls to you. "Oh good, look who it is. Clueless Leader and Smug-and-Smugger. And is that the shout-pole farmer back there? I was worried I wouldn't find you all in time to hover worshipfully on the fringes of your human self-congratulation orgy."

    That voice was just as hoarse and sarcasm-heavy and slightly-deeper-than-expected the last time you heard it, but this time it does something to you. You ignore the sharpening twinge under your breastbone and turn to throw him a big smile. "Hi Karkat -- whoa! Guys!" You flail vaguely at Dave's elbow, as if he might not have noticed that drawling rant. "You guys, look!"

    Because Karkat has human skin. He still has those adorable little -- you mean silly little candy-corn horns, but his skin is just as pale-pink as yours and your fellow humans'. Maybe even a shade paler than yours, as if he got coded Dave's albino glow in that category.

    As he continues to stomp closer, though, it becomes easier to make out that he doesn't have Dave's red eyes. He doesn't have anyone's eyes but his own, silvery and beaut-- you mean attrac-- nice -- dammit. They're gray. Enough of this. Now is not the time for that. Now is the time to stop staring.

    Any minute now.

    Dave says, "Whoa hey, Nitram, I thought you disproved John's DNA mashup theory for a second there, cuz none of us brought a tan to the genome party. But that's not melanin, is it? That's your blood."

    "It's, yeah, hi uh. Dave. Those are some, rad, horns you have there, now. Heh."

    "Well, they are mine," Dave says modestly.

    Did Tavros arrive with Karkat? How did you not see him there? Oh, that's right, you haven't glanced away from Karkat since you first locked eyes. Or, as far as you can recall, breathed.  You've definitely been grinning the whole time, and your chest hurts kind of a lot now.

    You really don't want to think about what's going on here, but it's starting to look like you don't have a choice.

    And then Karkat... smiles?

    It's just a wry, bewildered little twitch, but it boots your already wobbling world right off its axis. You don't know if you just think ohgod or actually mutter it under your breath, but your treacherous legs definitely just took two steps closer.

    "I should've known your horns would be stupid joke horns," he says, and again his voice strums your nerves in the most horriblewonderful way. "If I was thinking about what this sudden fashion for mutation would do to you, I mean. Which I wasn't. Because actually I couldn't fucking care less. Obviously."

    Your treacherous stupid mouth opens against your orders and says quietly, "Your eyes are silver."

    You can see the shudder run through his body.

    Suddenly, Rose's hand clamps around your arm and tugs. "I think that's enough for now, John," she says with clinical cheer. "You've only had troll genitals for ten minutes; I think you should make the necessary mental adjustments before you start hitting on your friends, don't you?"

    "Uh." As soon as you look away from him, the spell breaks, and you shake yourself. "Okay, wow."

    Rose throws a smile past your shoulder. "But of course you're both welcome to join our human self-congratulation party."

    "Orgy," Karkat corrects.

    "I'm not sure that's a good idea," Rose says dryly.

    Instead of thinking about the word 'orgy', you hug Jade. She has antlers. They're so boss.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Cause a panic.

    You're not feeling nearly as relaxed as you look. These horns are heavy, they're giving you a headache, you figure they're going to give you a headache every day until your neck muscles get used to them. The extra eyeteeth are already wearing sore spots on the inside of your bottom lip. You're used to the sun being pretty seriously harsh on your eyes -- that's the downside of this awesome red color -- but right now it's too intense even through the shades. Could be you ended up with some kind of troll nocturnal cat eye shit, which is kind of not what you would've ordered if you'd had a chance to look at the menu.

    And to tell the truth -- which you won't, because someone has to not panic around here -- this new hermaphrodite groove is frankly a little bit gross. It's not that you never before considered the concept of interacting with someone else's dick. You're not a throwback to the Eisenhower era like some people whose names rhyme with John. Bisexuality has been cool since Alexander conquered Persia, and you always intended to at least attempt it.

    But you always figured it'd be like... hand jobs. Hand jobs, dry humping, and public affection in front of prissy old people. Mostly that last one. Suddenly acquiring an alien coochie... that's just off the map.

    It's probably not even ironic.

    It's okay, though. You know what to do when shit's getting a little too heavy to handle. You pass the buck.

    "Vantas. Hold up, I wanna talk to you."

    Karkat was looking like he was going to follow John and Rose -- okay, no need to pull punches, he probably didn't even see Rose -- but at this he stops and narrows his eyes at you. Tavros stops too, glancing between you worriedly. Dang, that kid is cute like a stupid puppy. You think you might decide to indulge his terrible rapping from time to time just in the interests of good pet ownership. You give him a fraction of a reassuring nod, and Karkat ignores him, so he shrugs and trots off after the others.

    Still glaring at you, Karkat drawls, "Too fucking bad. I'm about as interested in talking to you as I am in sawing off my horns and shoving them up my nostrils." But he doesn't storm off, so you figure that's just his way of saying keep it short.

    "Am I Smug or Smugger?"

    He stares.

    "Come on, man, don't leave me hanging. I have to know if I'm trailing Lalonde here, it's crucial. Smug is my deal."

    Oh, this is awesome. He's doing That Thing. The one where his brows twitch down and his head goes forward on his neck a bit as he tries so hard to work out if you're shitting him, then realizes he's playing your game and goes all nonchalant. You love making people do that thing.

    He sneers, "Relax, fuckstick, you're leading the humans by a mile in the Douchiest Douche competition. You have basically nothing on Ampora though. He could give douche lessons to a literal nook cleansing apparatus."

    You chuckle. That was a pretty good answer, actually, and now you know which of Karkat's favorite vocabulary items denotes alien hoo-ha. "In case you haven't noticed, the human and troll categories are basically obsolete as of today. We're some kinda gumbo species now."

    "Gumbo? I don't even want to know what kind of idiotic human --"

    "No, look, stop. That's not what I want to talk about. You're the trollboss, right?"

    He crosses his arms and does his damnedest to look down his little button nose at you. He's like two-three inches shorter than you but whatever, good effort. "Actually I'm the gummo boss now, because it's not like -- what the fuck, stop fucking laughing."

    "Gumbo. Gumbo is a kind of food. Gummo is one of the Marx Brothers."

    "Oh my God, you dribbling pukehole, I don't care. Get to the point or I'm leaving."

    "Keep your panties on. I just want to ask if you think you can keep the troll murderdrama from re-erupting. Because like... we might be it."

    He frowns. "It what?"

    "The entire population of this planet."

    His eyes unfocus as his frown deepens, and he thinks about this for a few moments. He's not entirely stupid-looking when he's not flipping out. Not that that'll keep you from mocking John's incredibly obvious crush. "Jegus," he says hollowly. "For all I know a couple of them are already on a fucking killing spree. I gotta go shut this shit down."

    "Maybe we all better --"

    "Fuck you, fuckhole," he snaps. "I'm the leader. I will fucking handle it."

    You shrug. You're thinking actually John will probably end up being the leader of everybody, because he has the magic cookie that makes people follow him without realizing they're doing it. But it's not like debating with Bitchy McSwearface will change anything. "Okay, one more thing."

    He rolls his eyes. "Oh, for the love of -- fucking what already."

    "How come you're not gray?"

    "Did we not just go over this? You were the one who said genome mashup." He holds up his hand and waggles it like an irritated tarantula. "Human skin, dumpass!"

    "Right, but Nitram's got the same color blood as he types in, I thought you guys all did that. So I assume your blood was gray."

    A slow dawning of horror drains the color from his face until he almost is gray. "Shit," he chokes. He takes a step back. "I don't have time for these stupid questions. I have to go -- do -- a lot of crucial shit." He spins around and books it like a little bitch.

    "Cool," you say, and shrug one shoulder slightly. Obviously a failure to think something through biting him on the ass there. But you have more important questions to think about.

    You join your formerly human friends and make with the socializing for a little while. Harley's antlers really are almost as excellent as John thinks they are, and enable you to say 'nice rack' without getting punched. Also, it's not too early to start teasing John about having a crush on Mister Shouty.

    "I do not, Dave, jeeez," he drawls, rolling his eyes.

    "Pff. Your eyes were pretty much exactly the size of CD's and your mouth was hanging open."

    "I was just surprised. You're not as funny as you think you are."

    "You have some drool on your shirt, actually."

    He glances down and wipes at his shirt, then groans and gives you the old stink-eye. Big laughs all round.

    Now that the mood's nice and celebratory, you hate to drag it down, but you have things on your mind, and you have need of the flighty broad's brainpower to get a handle on these things. "Lalonde, can I talk to you a second."

    You intended to draw her away from the group, but she deliberately ignores the cue. "Only a second? You usually bend my ear for hours on end. What have I done to offend you? You must tell me how to make it up --"

    "Yeah let's do that routine later, right now I want to know if you think anyone else got brought here with us, or if it's just the sixteen of us."

    Rose gets the implications right away. Mind like a steel trap, that dame. "The parameters of the transfer left room for a lot of uncertainty."

    You nod. That's all you needed to know. "Later." You turn.

    "Where are you going?" Her sharp question draws everyone's attention. Great. Just what you needed. You didn't want to make a big deal out of this.

    "Going to find my bro," you say without turning around, and lengthen your stride. Behind you you hear John exclaim in realization, and you almost facepalm. Maybe you should've lied. Because now he's going on about his dad like the man's sure to be alive and well, and if it turns out he's not... God damn it. The Egderp can't take these knocks like you can. But there's nothing you can do about it now, not without time shenanigans, and you really don't want to start that shit again.

==> Dave: Abscond.

Chapter Text

==> Sollux: Do things the hard way.

    So this is pretty much awesome. You get your sight back and what's the first thing you see? A bipedal frog trying to take your shoes off.

    "Leave my shoeth the fuck alone," you grumble as you sit up. Ohshit headrush.

    The frog thing makes a noise like a surprised fart and bounces away. You can hear the undergrowth rustling with its retreat until the sound trail ends in a distant splash. Mental note: water thattaway. Water... that is probably full of blue bipedal shoe-stealing amphibians. Wait, are those consorts? Is this place supposed to have consorts? It's so hard to think past this headache.

    Lifting your hands to massage your temples leads to the realization that you have thin human skin, that you are practically glowing yellow like a sourfruit rind, that you have all the natural armor of a piece of wet load gaper tissue, and so forth. You kind of freak out for a while.

    Once you calm down enough for curiosity, you rummage through your inventory for something reflective -- a spare pair of shades will do -- and check your eyes. The yellows are white. The pupils are too small. Between the white yellow and the pupil is a ring of color; one blue and one red. Yeah, there was basically no way that duality thing wasn't going to be back the moment you opened your eyes and saw anything but black. Your two-tone psi is working again and your peace of mind is gone.

    The slight reduction in your lisp afforded by this omnivore dentition is not remotely compensation.

    In an attempt to summon up some kind of sense of purpose, some balance to this crushing sense of anticlimax, you remind yourself that probably a significant majority of your friends are doing something stupid and unproductive right now. Which you're not okay with, because the peace is gone. Dammit. Time to get KK off his loser ass and make him fix it.

    Unfortunately, chances are a lot of those idiots are incommunicado right now. One of the crucial conditions of the humans' plan was that absolutely no networking devices could be running when they initiated the translation. Even the weakest crippleware message app running on a wrist chronometer could pull a thread of connection from the old universe into the new, a thread the Unbeatable Boss might follow.

    Everyone had to eject their sylladices and double-check each other's inventory to make sure everything was fully shut down. That was kind of tricky to do without eyes, and you only have KK's word for it that you got all your shit back, but it was the right thing to do. If there's anything you have all learned over the past few hundred endless hours, it's that leaving crucial actions up to the memory and prioritization skills of a six-sweep-old is a fucking death sentence.

    And those same six-sweep-olds are probably right now staring at their own hands going oooooh look at my shiny blood, look at my useless gaper-tissue skin instead of trying to coordinate some kind of gathering. Fuck. They're hopeless. You're hopeless. You're the one who decided who to bring. You started this whole fucking thing. You're to blame for everything, really, and is it sensible to expect someone else to bail you out? Especially someone as wallbangingly stupid, self-centered, and rage-driven as Karkat Vantas.

    No, wait. That's not fair, is it. He actually kind of... pulled it together when it really mattered. And. Well. You're going to give him shit for knocking your teeth out for basically the rest of his life, but you actually do know it happened while he was dragging you to safety. He could've left you there and run. He could've gone a shit-ton faster without you, and not fallen down the stairs in the process. And the thing about KK is that leaving you probably never crossed his mind.

    You dig out your headset and turn it on, bring up Trollian and log in. Of course no one else is there. That'd be too much to ask. Much as you'd like to add that to the ever-lengthening list of reasons for your headache, the fact is, for all you know, you're the only one awake.

    Or the only one here.

    Oh fuck that would suck.

KK you bulgemunchiing grub2ucker turn on your 2tupiid hu2ktop.

    Yeah, that's productive. That's incredibly logical right there. God you feel stupid.

Okay whatever ju2t an2wer as 2oon a2 you 2ee thii2.

    It suddenly occurs to you that it might be... a little odd that so far out of everybody you've only been thinking about him. If the humans weren't full of shit when they explained the plan, then the dead should be alive again. Aradia. Feferi. Not that you're a romance-obsessed moron like some nubby-horned assholes, but it's a little odd that you're kind of hoping neither of them remembers to turn shit on before you get a chance to talk to... well, some nubby-horned asshole. Much as you'd like to pretend it's because he's the leader so he should be dealing with this shit, that's kind of not even remotely true. You're not that good at lying to yourself.

    The truth is, you need to know exactly how bad this fresh new paradise sucks, and the maximum suck situation would be if Karkat isn't in it.

    You hear the scuff of a foot somewhere behind the tree you're leaning against. Probably that damn frog again. "You can't even wear my shoeth, you thtupid frog, go away."

    A chuckle informs you that you assumed wrong. Unless frogs chuckle. You claw your way vertical against the tree trunk, psionic sparks crackling a warning around your hands.

    "Whoa, check out the disco lights." The speaker paces a wide circle around your position, showing himself without coming into what he probably assumes is your range. "Don't tase me, bro."

    "I think I know which one you are," you mutter, because you've heard enough about the humans, caught enough glimpses as you dealt with other people's computer illiteracy, to know that the white-haired male is the insufferable prick of a coolkid, the one Terezi has expended gallons of saliva licking her screen over. The black glasses are a dead giveaway. And not remotely cool. "Fuck off. I'm not in a very nithe mood."

    And then the vision twofold kicks in.

    You see him, you see him forward and back through time, you see the path he carves through circumstance, you see all his metaphors, the balance of his nature, you see him scribing the other half of your equation, and between you you balance to zero. You see him exerting against you precisely the force you exert against him, competition like mountains colliding, resulting in a moveless fault line creaking in stasis.

    And occasional earthquakes. Sweaty, screaming earthquakes.

    No. Fuck this. You've been coasting downhill toward your doom your entire fucking life, and you're done with that shit. You don't like this vision of the future and you're not fucking going along with it.

    "You're the dude who was blind, right? Like actual blind, not licking blind like Terezi. Looks like you can see now though. That's cooWHAT THE FUCK!" He blurs out of the path of your psi bolt. A blameless tree is ripped in half instead. You've never seen anyone move that fast before, it's kind of impressive and it just makes you madder.

    "I thaid. Fuck. Off." A whipping arc of mindforce sends him flashing and jumping all the hell over the place.

    When the dust settles, you don't see him. Good. Looks like he got the idea. Still, you remain standing, despite the way it makes your head throb, for quite some time before you feel like you can relax your guard. Then you slide back down to slump with your arms across your knees and your head on your arms.

KK for fuck2ake talk two me.

    How many times does a guy have to die to get an afterlife that makes him want to live?

Chapter Text

==> John: Be the friendleader.

    By the time you think to wonder how Dave expects to find his brother, you can't see him anymore. Maybe they have some kind of psychic link of coolness! You hope so, because that would mean Dave knows his bro is alive instead of just wondering!

    You're well aware this is unlikely. You're not an idiot, even if people keep telling you you are.

    Well, if your dad is alive, he can take care of himself, and will probably find you. Thinking about it too much makes your stomach feel cold and tight, so you need to focus on something else. Something you can do right now to make things better than they were. That's the way to keep your head up in a flood.

    "Where do you think we should put the alchemiter?" you say suddenly, interrupting Rose's monologue on Dave's foolishness, which was only a cover for worrying about her mom anyway.

    "We don't even know if it will work," Rose reminds you. "We're outside the game now, and the alchemiter is a game construct."

    "Rose," you sigh. You scoop up the end of your wind sock hood and waggle it at her.

    She slaps herself on the forehead. "Chalk it up to shock and fatigue."

    "Yeah, we're all tired," you agree.

    Jade illustrates the point by asking, "Why does your hood explain the alchemiter?"

    "His clothes are a game construct," Rose explains. "He didn't alchemize them. They just appeared on him when he ascended to god tier. John, do your powers still work?"

    "I don't know!" Eager with curiosity, you reach for the breeze, and with a mental twist as easy-once-you-know-it as swimming, curl it into spinning updraft-cushions that lift you off your feet. "Looks like they do," you smile. "So I suppose everyone else's do too?"

    "That's enough floating for now, I think," Rose says with a quirk of her eyebrow. She looks so much like Dave when she does that.

    You let your feet take your weight again. "Rose, if your needles work, you can shoot a flare above the trees, right? Then everyone will know where to gather!"

    "Excellent idea, John. These moments of peace are so tedious. Let's immediately attract the attention of all the trolls at once. When they begin to perpetuate their dystopian ideals by making our alchemiter the center of a bloody power struggle, we can turn it into a drinking game!"

    You're very proud of how straight your face is right now. "Rose, it's everyone's alchemiter."

    "Oh John. Do I have to speak Sincerity to get this across to you?"

    Jade gives a weary chuckle and loops her arm through Rose's. "He's messing with you, Rose. Anyway, I'm with John. We're going to need the thing sooner or later, so it's not like there's any point in hiding it. Better to share it from the start so there's no hard feelings. Right?"

    "Exactly," you nod.

    "Wherever we put it, we'll just have to move it later, so I guess just look for a flat spot."

    "Um..." That's Tavros, who's been hovering just outside your conversation as if not sure he's allowed to join in. When you look to him expectantly, he flushes copper. "I don't think you, quite, understand trolls, sorry. We, I mean, they, because I don't really like fighting, they fight to, um. Show their strength? So. Holding such a basic resource, hostage, would be something a, I guess, weakling would do."

    You give him a smile of happy approval. He sounds timid but he pays attention. You resolve to listen carefully to whatever he has to say in the future. Unless it's one of his raps because jeez, no.

    "Then I guess we all agree! We'll put down the alchemiter and send up a flare, and hopefully get everyone gathering here. Help me find a flat enough spot."

    Not many minutes later, you're standing in a grassy clearing, bending over the machine's oddball symbol-readout console, trying to figure out what its designers thought you would think half a dozen different spiky fractals mean. The most worrying one is a spiral made up of sort of squashy triangley things, which is gray almost all the way to the center, and the center is red and blinking.

    "That had better not mean this thing's been searching for a wireless signal while it was sitting in your inventory, or we're all dead," Rose murmurs.

    An unpleasant feverish shiver goes down your back. "I think it's for battery power," you say hopefully. "There's this circle-dot here by it, see, isn't that a little like the plug icon that comes on when you plug in a laptop?"

    "Nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so," she sighs as she takes out a green cube and hands it to you. It's surprisingly heavy. "I assume you have spare cards for punching?"

    The alchemiter is willing to make one of the green blocks, but that makes the colored part of the spiral shrink to a nub, and it refuses to make anything more. Rose figures out how to plug in the original green block while you and Jade cross your fingers. Finally, she gets it connected. The circle-dot lights up. You were right! You put the card through again, get another block, and the circle dot remains. While you watch, the first triangle outside the center warms slowly from gray to red.

    "There's no longer any such thing as grist," Rose muses. "It must be working by pure matter-energy conversion at this point. And for duplicating these power nodes to result in an apparent net gain, it must be stealing matter from somewhere."

    "Well, I'll leave the physics pondering to you. We're going to want food and beverages first, and then I guess cloth for tents? Unless someone has a better idea? Maybe I should take suggestions. Oh!" You pull out your cosbymuffs. "We're all still offline! Shoot up a flare and I'll start telling people what it means."

    Rose pulls a face. "I'm not sure I want to call on that power anymore. Certainly not for such a frivolous purpose."

    "I got this!" Jade grins, brandishing one of her outlandish, brightly colored guns. She aims it at the sky and pulls the trigger. With a Fourth-of-July shriek and bang, a green firework streaks from the barrel, arcs upwards on a tail of smoke, and bursts high above the clearing.

    You whoop. You can't help it. Fireworks are just so cool!

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: turn on your stupid husktop.

    You're not freaking out. You just need some space to think, is all. To much shit happening at once. Everything's too weird. You're not going into some kind of crybaby spazmode just because someone commented on your blood color, you are so over that.

    Okay, no, you're freaking out.

    You're not fleeing in panic, at least. You're collected enough to dodge through the woods at a lope without making too much noise, careful lest you run into someone you don't want to see right now -- which is basically everyone except maybe Terezi -- and you're capable of thinking thoughts marginally more helpful than oh shit oh shit oh shit.  But an ingrained survival reflex is hard to break.

    Once the initial burst of get me out of here has passed, you remember there's not actually a point to going anywhere in particular. You stop and look around. You're not even a little bit out of breath; the game did that much for you, at least. The trees here are bigger than where you woke up. You're not some kind of tree expert or anything, but you think they're a little too big. Maybe they're some kind of Earth tree you never happened to see while you were watching the humans, because Alternia definitely didn't have any trees whose trunks were as big around as your hive. The furrows in the bark are deep enough to stick your arm in to the shoulder.

    Using a couple of sickles as climbing hooks, you scramble up it to the first big branch. It's pretty far up; no one's going to see you from the ground. You sprawl out on it and let the reflexive horror wash over you. Maybe it'll run its course. Maybe it'll get better.

    Your skin is crawling. This petal fucking delicate see-through goddamn skin, you can actually follow some of your veins under it -- they look kind of bluish, but that's got to be shadow, because the red is everywhere else. Every inch of you is at least a little bit pink, and some places, like your knuckles and palms and the beds of these ludicrous, blunt, seashell-thin claws, are such a blatant salmon color that you wonder how any of you could've imagined the humans type in their blood color. Sure, everything looks different on a computer screen, but...

    A flimsy, halfassed solution occurs to you, and you grab it like a lifeline. You can just lead via messages! It's what you did practically the whole time anyway. No one will mind. They'll probably be relieved. At least they won't complain about you hurting their ears.

    And hey, there's the added bonus that you won't have to look at that spastic little nookwhiffer Egbert. Who turns out to be just that annoying little bit taller than you. Who stared at you with wide, want-glazed, appallingly blue eyes and had to be dragged away from you by the wrist. Which made you act like some kind of idiot and try to follow him. Very briefly. Probably no one noticed. Still, better to give that kind of shit a wide berth. Last thing you need right now is to embarrass yourself to that jackass again.

    You deploy your crabtop. Its legs grip the branch automatically, holding it steady. That's so handy. As soon as you log onto Trollian, you find two names already blinking on your Chumproll, messages already waiting for you. Or, actually, considering the machine was actually completely powered off, messages which jumped down the computer's throat the instant it said hello, which is somehow worse.

EB: hey karkat! where did you go?
EB: we're making some snacks and things.
EB: we are going to have a party!
EB: just follow the signal!!! i don't know what it will be but we'll think of something i'm sure.
EB: ... karkat, are you ok???

    Well, that doesn't make your stomach heave even a little bit. Unfortunately, he's already seen you come online.

EB: whew! when you ran off like that it made me worry.
CG: YES, NOW IS A GREAT TIME FOR YOU TO TRY TO BE MY FUCKING LUSUS.
CG: THERE IS NOTHING BETTER YOU COULD DO IN THIS MOMENT THAN THAT. IT'S SO IMPORTANT.
EB: hee!

    You fling out an arm to slam your fist against the trunk beside you. Then you freeze for a long agonized moment, fighting a need to whimper like a kicked woofbeast. You stare incredulously at the heel of your hand. Red drops are oozing from whitened welts. There are crumbs of bark embedded in your goddamn skin. Wincing, you scrub crumbs and blood against your pant leg, then hurry to vent your displeasure.

CG: CONGRATULATIONS, SHITSPONGE. YOUR INSIPID TITTERING CAUSED ME TO PUNCH A TREE AND NOW I HAVE A DIRT TATTOO.
CG: IT IS SUCH A MYSTERY HOW THE FUCK HUMANS SURVIVED LONG ENOUGH TO REPRODUCE.
CG: YOU'RE MADE OF FUCKING PASTRY.
EB: well, for starters, we don't punch trees very much. :)
EB: come back, i made hellacious blue phlegm aneurysm fruit punch.
EB: it's like a healing potion!
EB: in fact it basically is a healing potion.
EB: there's kind of no functional difference.
CG: HOLY SHIT, HOW WILL I LIVE WITHOUT WHATEVER THAT IS FOR ANOTHER FUCKING SECOND?
CG: NO.
CG: ACTUALLY, WHY AM I EVEN TALKING TO YOU RIGHT NOW?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] blocked ectoBiologist [EB]

    While you were hosting that deeply fulfilling moron summit, Sollux has been flipping his shit like a veteran line cook at a greasy grub patty joint.

TA: KK you bulgemunchiing grub2ucker turn on your 2tupiid hu2ktop.
TA: Okay whatever ju2t an2wer as 2oon a2 you 2ee thii2.
TA: KK for fuck2ake talk two me.
TA: Thank fuck, there you are.
TA: What the fuck.
TA: Fiine, whatever.
TA: II'll ju2t fiind 2ome of the2e iidiiotiic 2hoe-2tealiing frog2 two talk two.
TA: II'll look for them wiith my eye2, whiich II have agaiin, not that you care or anythiing.
TA: Whiich ii2 fiine actually, becau2e you're an enormou2 gapiing a22hole and fuck you, bye.
CG: WHAT.
CG: NO.
CG: OK YES, I WAS TOTALLY IGNORING YOU OUT OF SPITE BECAUSE I WOULD RATHER DEAL WITH CHIRPY SHITSPONGE HUMANS THAN TALK TO YOU.
CG: YOU HAVE DETECTED MY SECRET BIAS.
TA: IIt wa2 a joke, fucktard.
CG: NO IT WASN'T.
CG: I
CG: I'M GLAD YOU HAVE YOUR EYES BACK.
CG: THIS WOULD NORMALLY SOUND LIKE AN INSANE QUESTION, BUT UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES IT'S PERTINENT...
CG: WHAT COLOR IS YOUR SKIN?
TA: Yellow.
TA: Yellow a2 a damn 2ourfruiit.
TA: IIt ii2 2o fuckiing ugly you have no fuckiing iidea.
TA: ...
TA: Oh 2hiit, KK.
CG: YEAH.
TA: II'm comiing two fiind you. 2tay put.
CG: WHAT WAIT
CG: NO
TA: Not becau2e II'm curiiou2 eiither, 2o don't 2tart wiith that. II'm ju2t beiing a friiend.
CG: WHAT THE FUCK, IT'S NOT LIKE I'M BLEEDING OUT AND NEED IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION.
TA: Whatever. Ju2t 2tay there.

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: WAIT YOU FUCKPOD
CG: SINCE WHEN DO YOU KNOW HOW TO USE YOUR SHIFT KEY?

    You let your head fall back against the lumpy bark with a wince.  Goddamn stupid, interfering, high-maintenance, overemotional best friend. All bleating for you like a lost baby wool creature, and then rushing to your rescue as if there is something to rescue you from and he'd be in any position to effect such a rescue if there were. You have no clue how he plans to find you. Stupid psychic tricks, probably. Moving won't change anything, you're pretty sure, so you might as well stay put like he asked.

    While you're on the topic of annoying friends, how about that loathsomely twee John Human and his inanely perky antics? How does he fail to see just how unbearable that shit is? And where the hell does he get off having eyes the actual fucking color of sapphires? That is incredibly tasteless.

    You're going to keep calling him John Human forever, even though he's no more human than you are now. That'll teach him.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Be the gumbo boss.

There's no time to be nervous over what Sollux will think of your blood color. The cooldouche was right. The murderdrama has to be stopped before it starts, or there won't be enough of you left to ectobiologize a viable gene pool, let alone populate the planet the normal way. Whatever the fuck that is now.

    You systematically open a chat window for every single one of your... subjects? Underlings? They'll never accept those words, except maybe Equius, who'd probably even be fine with 'minion', but in a gross way. Troops, that works. All the troops, all fifteen of them arranged in a five by three grid on your screen. Only John and Sollux are available.

    Probably not a great idea to wait to catch each person for an individual conversation. Who knows when they'll finally pull their heads out of their nooks and try something besides wandering in the woods like a bunch of cutesyfake fairies with hopbeast shit for brains. A memo would be the obvious solution, if pretty much the entire asshole parade didn't make a passionate hobby out of fucking those up and then ignoring them. Gonna have to do it the messy way, then, and maybe you can get the Windy Dingaling to do runner duty and find the inevitable few who ate their computers or something.

    You type a general message and copy-paste it into each window.

CG: WELCOME TO BEAUTIFUL PLANET NO-NAME-YET, EVERYONE. ENJOY YOUR NEW SEE-THROUGH SKIN, COURTESY OF THE HUMANS. THE DEAD ARE NOW ALIVE AGAIN. THERE IS NO INDICATION THAT ANY MORE RESURRECTIONS WILL BE POSSIBLE, SO PLEASE FOR FUCK'S SAKE DON'T DO ANYTHING CARELESS OR STUPID. DO NOT EMBARK ON ANY REVENGE QUESTS, JUST RETRIBUTIONS, MURDER SPREES, OR ADVENTURES. IN FACT, SIT THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE AND CHECK IN, THEN WAIT FOR ME TO GET BACK TO YOU.
CG: WE MAY BE THE ONLY SENTIENT LIFE FORMS ON THIS PLANET. LET'S NOT SCREW IT UP.

    Maybe not the gentlest, most encouraging kind of leaderly missive, but at least you refrained from calling names or going on flights of angry metaphor. It'll have to do.

    A sharp, high shriek in the distance interrupts your train of thought. You turn in the direction it came from, just in time to see a green flash bright enough to erase shadows even in daytime. At the same moment there's a boom that feels like a punch to the chest.

    "Shitfuck. God. Fuck." You've got your sickles out and your feet under you, one blade dug into the bark of the tree for stability, eyes straining for more information. Your heart is racing, your stomach twisting sour with panic. You never wanted to see that green light again. You don't know how it happened, but something's clearly gone horribly wrong, and now --

    Your husktop chimes.

EB: hey everybody! i bet you're wondering what's up with the fireworks! it's the signal you can follow to reach our location. come join us! we have an alchemiter set up with a power source since grist doesn't work anymore. we're making food and drinks, and working on some kind of shelter. i know some of you have some pretty serious differences, but right now we need to put those aside and look to the future. i know if we all work together we can make the most amazing home here on our brand new paradise planet!

    You seethe.

    How dare he. How dare he copypaste his own message right after yours. Contradicting your orders. How dare he make decisions like that without consulting you. How dare he act like he's the leader! How dare he make you panic with doom-colored lights! How fucking dare he tell your trolls to just put aside their 'differences' like it doesn't even matter who fucking slaughtered who in the throes of ego or madness!

    Oh.

    So that's where the rage went.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?
CG: YOU UNBELIEVABLE ASSWITTED MONKEYFUCK.
CG: DO YOU THINK IT'S ALL ROMPER GRUB FUNTIMES NOW BECAUSE THE PLANET IS PRETTY?
CG: SOME OF THE PEOPLE YOU HAVE JUST SUMMONED TO YOUR LITTLE TEA PARTY MAY OR MAY NOT BE IN THE GRIP OF UNREASONING MURDEROUS RAGE, JUST SO YOU KNOW.
EB: haha, i think the planet is pretty too!
CG: OH. MY. GOD.
CG: TELL ME YOU AREN'T REALLY AS STUPID AS YOU SOUND.
CG: TELL ME YOU'RE ONLY PRETENDING TO BE COMPLETELY FUCKING RETARDED BECAUSE YOU ENJOY TORTURING ME.
EB: maaaaaybe?
EB: karkat, relax. it will be ok.
CG: I AM GOING TO VOMIT UP MY OWN RIBCAGE AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT.
EB: ew.
CG: EGBERT, I AM THE LEADER, YOU KNOW THIS.
CG: JUST EXPLAIN IT TO ME.
CG: WHY ARE YOU ISSUING GENERAL COMMANDS WITHOUT RUNNING THEM PAST ME FIRST?
EB: i'm just picking up your slack, karkat!
EB: okay, people are arriving, gotta go.

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

    You stare at the screen in horror and wonder. The feeling welling up in you is so strong it makes you shake. When you first thought he was your fated kismesis, that was just a kiddy crush, that was nothing. Past you had no fucking idea what blackrom is. This is the real thing. This is the true deep pitch, bitter enough to choke you, black enough to blind you. This is rivalry.

    But...

    But it isn't hate.

    You lean back against the tree, breathing shallowly, one trembling hand pressed over your stomach as if to hold the bile in, and you wonder how you can be so utterly black for someone and yet not hate him. It makes no fucking sense at all.

    Anger, hell yes, you're furious. Desire, yes, you hate to admit it but yes, you can't get his ridiculous eyes out of your head, you want to kiss his stupid bucktoothed mouth bloody, pin his lanky body to a wall. Rivalry, competition, yes! He's challenged you so goddamn blatantly this time, there's no way you can let it pass. You want to match him, surpass him, beat him... but... not particularly to hurt him. You'd love to paste him a good one across the jaw, true, but only to find out if it's an even fight.

    Breath by breath, the anger settles back into stillness, leaving you tired and confused. He probably didn't even mean it like that. Humans only have one stupid quadrant.

    "Fuck, KK, you look jutht like a human! Ith your blood pink?"

    You open your eyes to see Sollux hovering beside your branch, his lemony face slack with shock. Great. This is just a really great time for this. You can't even think of an answer. You just wave.

Chapter Text

==> Sollux: Don't pity Karkat.

    Karkat looks at you through half-lidded, unfocused eyes and gives a weak little wave, and your blood pusher ties itself in a knot. God, he looks like hammered hell.

    Hovering isn't all that tiring, but it does take effort, and that's excuse enough to get closer. "Shove over," you command, and sit down next to him on the absurdly huge branch of this preposterous tree. He's slow to give you room, and doesn't realize you're grabbing for his hand until you've already got it. He tugs at it, resists your effort to spread it open and look at the palm, but not very hard. You press thin, blunt claw tips into his wrist. He freezes as if you drew blood, though you barely dented the skin, and lets you unfurl his fingers.

    "Holy shit," you breathe. "Ith thish what I think it ish? Thith lookth pinker than Fef'th. Ith that why you had to hide it?"

    For a long moment, he just stares at you. His eyes are a pale metallic gray now, but you imagine you can see the first flecks of fuschia in them. As long as you've known him, you've thought he hid his blood because it was shamefully low. Lower than yours. His skin is far too pale to have russet under it, though. Could he truly be hiding from a royal destiny? That would be so like him. To say 'fuck it' and walk away from politics and power struggles just because he thinks the whole thing is a load of hoofbeast shit.

    Are there gills under his shirt? You spread his fingers apart, looking for scars where webbing might have been cut away, before realizing those would've vanished when he was remade.

    Then he snorts. "Fuck, no, are you insane? Look." He shoves his other hand at you, turning it to show a scrape on the heel of it, speckled with clots. They look black.

    You run a fingertip lightly over the abraded skin, and both of you shudder. Being this delicate and oversensitive is kind of horrible. You poise a claw tip over a scab and glance at him for permission. The start of an impatient eyeroll is answer enough. You pry the scab off.

    Brilliant scarlet beads underneath.

    He takes his hand back and rubs it against his pants, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah. So now you know my big fucking secret. Congratulations."

    Suddenly your throat is dry. "God, KK, why didn't you ever tell me? What if the culling droneth came for you, were you going to try and handle it on your own?"

    His lip lifts slightly, as if he's considering telling you off but it's too much trouble. Then he jerks and stares at you as you punch him in the arm as hard as you can.

    "You were!" you yell. "Fuck you, what if you jusht dishappeared and I never knew why? After all the timeth you athked if we were still friendth! Didn't it mean fucking anything to you?"

    He opens his mouth, choking on the first syllable of a word, then just leaves it hanging open, absolutely baffled.

    You take a deep breath, struggling for control. He doesn't get it. How could he understand? You sound like a lunatic. You sound like a moron, freaking out over shit that never even happened, and never can happen after this. He's the leader now, not a pariah. He's as safe as any of you are, and he probably thinks you've completely lost it.

    Slumping back against the lumpy tree trunk, you cross your arms and huff a breath. Maybe it's not even worth explaining.

    "You're a fucking idiot, Captor," he mutters. "You were in the same deep shit as me. You couldn't even hide your mutation. Why the hell would I want you to worry like I did?"

    Your chin comes up sharply, eyes widening, head throbbing extra hard as your blood pusher speeds up. He does understand. Maybe a little too well.

    With a snort, he looks away. "It doesn't matter now. Anyone who tries to bring that hemospectrum shit into this world, I will personally execute. I just need to get over some old reflexes, that's all." He takes a deep breath, spreads out his hands, logs his computer and grabs his sickles. He slams the point of one into the bark of the branch. "Meet me on the ground."

    "Wait." You catch his wrist as he begins to move, frowning at him. You're still worried, and you don't know why. The darkness under his eyes, maybe. "You never shlept, did you? Maybe you should resht before... whatever you're going to do. I could keep watch."

    His bruised eyes narrow angrily. Then he just continues his descent, placing sickles and feet with a methodical determination that screams exhaustion. "I need you to find Aradia next. And Kanaya. Tavros is with the humans, and he's useless anyway. Terezi's a bit of an unsecured artillery device, but she'll be on my side and we know she can handle Vriska. Feferi... no, not yet, she's not reliable. Yeah, just those three."

    You alight beside him on the ground, reeling with a familiar kind of whiplash. Every time you start to pity him, he pulls this born-to-command act and you end up grudgingly admiring him instead. Not that you'd ever admit it. "God, KK. Bothhy much?"

    "If you can't do it just say so."

    "Fuck you. Of courshe I can do it." Gritting your teeth against your headache, you begin to relax the tensed barriers that protect your raw, ragged senses. As the light gathers around you, your angry little general gives a tight nod of approval, and your hunched shoulders square a bit all by themselves.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Seek the highground.

    You're moving in the treetops now, flashing from branch to branch through the forest canopy, and it's so fucking animu you could basically have an ironygasm and jizz irony from every orifice in a flood of cel-shaded ninjatude. God you hope John has seen some of those shows so he'll get the reference when you tell him about it. You'll make it sound like that was the whole point of the activity.

    It's not, of course. There's too much loud undergrowth down below. It's easier to see where you're going up here. Besides, running into Disco Lights back there freaked you out a little. He came real fucking close to smearing you up a tree like cheese on a cracker. Not cool.

    Every half mile or so, you climb above the canopy to check your bearings. It's easy to veer off course. You have to correct your route a little each time. Fortunately, your destination is the kind of landmark you just can't miss.

    This forest spreads across a plain of -- possibly gently rolling hills, possibly total flatness, depending on whether those uproundings are copses of those super-sequoia things or not. Here and there on the plain, like anthills on a playground, are conical green mountains. Like the irregularly scattered tombstones in an old graveyard, maybe that's a better analogy. Like...

    Okay, what they most remind you of are the heaps of laundry Tavros built in your memory-apartment when you were one of your deadselves and he was a murder victim.

    Time was nonsensical there, and you didn't really need to sleep, but sometimes he just had to try; you wouldn't let him imagine one of those green slime pods into your room, and he wouldn't leave. So you let the laundry pile in your closet become a huge caricature of itself, and he shoveled it into the middle of the floor and climbed into it. You're smirking just thinking about it. That kid is so ridiculous. You're gonna have to keep an eye on him. At least until he face-on addresses the fact that his sorta-boyfriend is a serial killer.

    Anyway, the highest of those mounds is easy to spot from any direction. It's crowned with a jumble of bare stone like a ruined castle. Tallest thing from horizon to horizon.

    Course corrected, you shimmy down to a level where there's enough open space for your squirrel act and get moving again.

    You feel a little bit wrong leaving John and the others behind. If they end up dealing with troll bullshit, they might need your help. Although... shit, John's a god now. He can just windy-thing the little bastards over the treetops until they decide to be peaceable.

    Anyway, he'll want to know. If you find your bro, he'll want to know that. If Bro is alive, Dad Egbert is too. And Mom Lalonde.

    But not Bec the Wonder Dog. Please, fuck, no.

    You really hope Bro remembers the conversation you're basing all your hopes on. It wasn't that long ago, but it wasn't anything special either. You were watching the Discovery Channel -- not ironically, for once, because seeing a British dude get naked and eat bugs just does not get old -- and Bro came in and leaned on the back of the couch. He watched with you for a few minutes. Then he started telling you what to do if you're ever lost in the wilderness.

    Don't stay put and wait for rescue, he said. Some soccer mom goes jogging in the canyon and breaks her ankle in her little pink running shoes, she can wait for rescue. You don't.

    Aright, you said slowly, not seeing his point yet.

    You get to high ground. Get someplace where you can see what all is where. You reckon there's rescue copters on the way, you can signal from up there. You wanna rescue yourself, you can pick your destination. He clapped a hand on your shoulder. Get to the high ground, lil' dude. Then he vanished.

    Once the show was over, you went looking for a snack and ran across various traps and notes that suggested he'd been hinting it was roof battle time. The roof of your building was some pretty serious high ground. But it was good advice anyway, wasn't it?

    Well, it's the best lead you've got. It's not like you can just phone him. Oh, crap, you're offline. Way to be a useless disappear-friend.

    As soon as you get online, two chat windows pop up, already full.

CG: WELCOME TO BEAUTIFUL PLANET NO-NAME-YET, EVERYONE. ENJOY YOUR NEW SEE-THROUGH SKIN, COURTESY OF THE HUMANS. THE DEAD ARE NOW ALIVE AGAIN. THERE IS NO INDICATION THAT ANY MORE RESURRECTIONS WILL BE POSSIBLE, SO PLEASE FOR FUCK'S SAKE DON'T DO ANYTHING CARELESS OR STUPID. DO NOT EMBARK ON ANY REVENGE QUESTS, JUST RETRIBUTIONS, MURDER SPREES, OR ADVENTURES. IN FACT, SIT THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE AND CHECK IN, THEN WAIT FOR ME TO GET BACK TO YOU.
CG: WE MAY BE THE ONLY SENTIENT LIFE FORMS ON THIS PLANET. LET'S NOT SCREW IT UP.

EB: hey everybody! i bet you're wondering what's up with the fireworks! it's the signal you can follow to reach our location. come join us! we have an alchemiter set up with a power source since grist doesn't work anymore. we're making food and drinks, and working on some kind of shelter. i know some of you have some pretty serious differences, but right now we need to put those aside and look to the future. i know if we all work together we can make the most amazing home here on our brand new paradise planet!

    You roll your eyes and captchalog your computer again. You don't have time to deal with dueling banjos right now. You have a hill to climb.

    Up close, the tallest mound is rockier than it looked from a distance. Its smoothly angled lower flanks are, when you're right up on them, made up of moss-slick, crumbly limestone, half of it steep and the other half muddy. The grass that grows on the not-vertical parts makes a deceptive handhold, because it feels solid until you rely on it, and then the whole clump comes away in a surprise dirt fountain. You're sweating pretty hard by the time you reach the castle-ruins part.

    It's not an actual ruin. That's a bit of a bummer. You were thinking it'd be cool if this planet came into being with a history of ancient races and stuff. But whatever. It's a natural heap of rocks broken into squarish shapes. It's a lot easier to climb than the slope was.

    You're almost at the top when you hear a sound that doesn't belong here. It belongs in that really awkward dream bubble Tavros kept hauling into yours, the one you always shoved away after a little while even though he missed his creepy juggalo buddy, because... well, creey juggalo, for fuck's sake. And the asshole wouldn't stop making that goddamn noise.

    Honking those goddamn horns.

    "Don't think a brother better get too close to this motherfucker, brother," says that annoying, wavering voice. "I think maybe Tavbro's pale brother better just up and motherfucking walk away."

    "Or else what?" you ask calmly, looking at the dark hollow of tumbled limestone the voice is coming from.

    "I don't know," he says, and his voice cracks like he's about to cry.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Hold your ground.

"Fuck you, Dexter," you drawl. "You wanna have a pity party it'll have to be a solo event, because I won't be attending."

    "I don't wanna put a hurt on you, brother," he quavers. "Don't wanna do no harm to my fine Tavbro's pale brother."

    You sit down right where you are, where you can see the entrance to his little lair. "You can't hurt me, asshole. I'm the Knight of Time. There can be like twenty of me if there needs to be."

    "It ain't up in my heart to do wrong to you, brother," he goes on in that creepy, crooning voice. Yeah, he's not listening to you at all. "Saw how you take good care of my sweet little bighorn brother. Way he looks at you all flying high diamonds in his eyes like there's no better bro nowhere. I say good on you, man. I say it's beautiful how a brother looks out for a brother like that and helps him get his smile on. I say it's a miracle."

    You consider your options. You're not going to abandon the high ground. You're not going to try and fetch him out of his hole, either. That would be dumb. Maybe you can talk him into the open. But then what? Murdertroll or not, you don't want to kill him, and there aren't a lot of half-measures when you're a bladekind user.

    "Most motherfuckin beautiful miracle," he coos softly, and you see the fingertips of a bony hand emerge from the shadow to stroke the jumbled stones at the entrance to the hole. His purple blood makes his skin look cyanotic. Drowned. "I threw my clubs out, brother. Threw out every motherfucking thing. But there's all these motherfucking rocks everywhere. All these pretty little skullcracker rocks. I didn't mean to pile 'em all up in here." The warbling croon in his voice is gradually morphing into a harsh rasp. "Sometimes a motherfucker just doesn't think about these things. Sometimes he just motherfucking does a thing without motherfucking thinking about it."

    "Bluh bluh scary clown," you sigh. "Heard it before. This is about where I usually shove your dreambubble off, remember?"

    "Like maybe a motherfucker shows a brother's brother a parcel of blasphemies. Maybe he's not all up and considering what it might do to a motherfucker. Maybe in the circumstance that motherfucker had to be finding his sweet little rollerbro all ripped up in shreds and just. When a brother's blood starts singing to you. Singing what the fuck is left. Lowblood motherfuckers getting their infidel breathe on, wasting my good motherfucking air, when my pretty little Tavbro got none. The motherfucking puppet's right. The motherfucking puppet says to kill 'em all."

    "So what you're saying is you're still murdercrazy. Awesome." You feel sick to your stomach but your hands are steady. You stand up. You drop a sword into your hand. "Come at me, bro. Let's do this."

    His answer is a cracked laugh.

    "Look, clowndouche, I don't want to kill anyone, but I'm not naive, I know this ain't Saturday morning cartoons, so if you're going to start doing what the 'motherfucking puppet' tells you again, you better start with me."

    That hand comes out again, grasping at the ground. A bowed head of wild black hair, tangled with dust and leaves, a clump of cobweb studded with fly husks hanging from one horn. The other hand, clawed. Then he twists and flops down on his back, arms looped above his head.

    You wait. He just lies there.

    Your determination to end him drains away. Now you feel even sicker, but it's at least half relief. You really, really didn't want to kill anyone. Not even the asshole who went murderiffic on his own friends, at least thinks he put Cal in your dreams and Noir in John's, dismembered Tavros's corpse so he could play 'Alas, poor Yorick' in his special gay Hannibal Lector way -- and then showed up in your dreambubble to mack on Tav and babble mad slasher talk at you, and pretended to be too stoned to remember what he did whenever you tried to call him on it. So. Basically. Fuck him, but you don't feel like being a murderer. You put the sword away.

    "Yeah, okay," you say in a tight monotone. "I've heard your Gollum monologue enough times that it's boring, so if all you're gonna do is angst, shut up while you do it."

    He drags a muddy wrist across his eyes, painting gray muck onto his face and leaving a purplish clean streak on his arm. "All right, brother," he whispers. "I can do that."

    The silence stretches. At first, you expect him to start babbling again any minute, but all he does is sniffle a bit. Eventually you're pretty sure he's fallen asleep.

    Well, if you're going to wait here for a while anyway, keeping an eye on the Purple People Eater isn't a totally useless thing to be doing. He can't flip out like a ninja while you're on the case.

    You get your computer out. You think about telling Karkat what's up. You did tell him to put a lid on the murderdrama, after all, and you have the number one source right here. But you don't really feel like dealing with Ragey Ragerson right now. This juggalo fuck is depressing enough.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TG: hey egbert
TG: guess who found a murderclown
TG: practically good as new
TG: if you guessed dave you win a prize
TG: people leave the most awesome shit just lying around
TG: on bus seats
TG: in the dryers at the laundromat
TG: so wasteful
TG: what do you think i should do with it
TG: return it to its rightful owner
TG: keep it for myself
TG: take it to the police station
TG: multiple choice bro
TG: only one right answer on this ethics test

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: wow, dave! you vanished so fast i couldn't even ask you to wait!
TG: why did you need me or something
EB: well, not exactly...
TG: youre a big boy egbert you can take care of yourself for a few hours
EB: where are you now?
TG: up on a mountain
TG: having a see party
TG: figure bro will come here first if hes alive
EB: that's... good thinking, I guess?
TG: wow you sound confident
EB: haha, sorry. there's just a lot to keep track of right now.
TG: great lets give you even more to think about
TG: this stray juggalo here
TG: bring it home take it to the pound or drown it
TG: your call man
EB: oh my gosh, this is going to be awkward.
EB: where did you find him?
TG: under a rock
EB: haha! but really.
TG: up on a mountain
EB: okay.
TG: under a rock
EB: ...

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Be the knight.

EB: what's he doing?
EB: i mean is he reading over your shoulder or...?
TG: no man hes conked out
TG: gave me the gollum speech you know what i mean
TG: we would never hurts the bearer of the preciousss
TG: or in this case the tavbros pale brother whatever the fuck that means
TG: then he actually no kidding cried himself to sleep
EB: wow, i didn't know you liked those movies!
TG: i didnt
TG: the books were better
TG: shut up
EB: hehehe, i wasn't going to say anything, dave!
EB: so defensive!
TG: cmon egbert im waiting for you to hand down a directive
TG you know how it turns me on when you put that blue sperm tail on your head and start giving orders
TG: like a pint size patton standing on the hood of your plastic barbie beach house jeep
TG: pointing into the future forever
TG: lay it on me man
TG: egbert
TG: jesus christ did you give your computer away again
EB: keep your pants on, dave! so impatient!
EB: i just had to ask someone a question.
EB: i think you should bring gamzee back here.
EB: and don't tell karkat.
TG: is this part of your little hatelove flirtation egbert
EB: what? no!
TG: its not like those little announcements you two posted were private
TG: you wanna play devil went down to georgia with karkles thats fine but dont get me involved
EB: no, god. would you just trust me?
EB: i know karkat was really broken up over having to um...
EB: stop
EB: gamzee and i don't want to put him through that again.
EB: besides, there's someone here who really wants to see the guy, hehe!

    You were about to demand how he thinks you're going to get the goddamn homicide mime to move, but at this you slap your forehead. Obvious answer is obvious. It's just... a little morally dubious. Are you, figuratively speaking, your brother's keeper? You know that's one of those religious quotes, but you can't remember if you ever heard the 'right' answer, let alone whether you agreed with it.

    But then, this isn't really your decision, is it? Weren't you just thinking Egbert's going to end up leading all of you? That kind of means that when he says jump, you say ribbit. He's the Heir, you're the Knight. Those titles don't mean jack shit, you know that, but... you still sorta feel the game gave them to you for a reason. All that sword-in-a-stone fuckery was a little too real to be random.

    But you don't have to be a brown noser about it, either.

TG: i hope to fuck you know what youre doing egbert
TG: that kid is approximately as competent to consent as a maple donut
TG: and i never saw the slaughterclown in action but im pretty sure he's no creampuff
TG: so
TG: just
TG: are you sure

    There's a pause that seems to stretch for ages. It feels like something is going down here that will echo for a long time, and all you know for sure is if you overthink it you'll fuck it up. Whether or not you pester Egbert to hurry up and answer -- how can that be any kind of big deal? But it feels like it would be. So you don't, and you tap a rhythm on your knee with your fingertips to keep from changing your mind.

    Because God, you want to fill that silence so bad. Your last words sound like a child begging for reassurance, not a skeptical Strider tweaking the boss. And okay, if there's anyone in the world you would show that face to, it's him, but not by accident, fuck. Your fingers twitch with the need to take that pastry imagery and run with it fast and far, turn the whole conversation into a spectacularly sprained metaphor, until those naked little shortposts are scrolled off the screen and forgotten.

    Instead you patter out some mid-90's Chemical Brothers track against your knee, trying to remember the name of the obscure disco ballad Bro mashed it with, and you wait.

EB: yes. it's okay, dave.
EB: it's going to work out fine, i promise.

    "Fuck," you whisper, your fingers fumbling the beat. And now if you protest that you didn't want a mommy hug, you only look dumber. Also, why do you believe him?

TG: okay man you asked for it
TG: one tearstreaked multiple murderclown coming up
EB: should i ask jade to shoot up another firework?
TG: no
TG: i got this

    You minimize the chat window but leave your iShades online. Standing, you pick your way across the rocks to a place where you can see Gamzee's face but could still easily dodge any of those 'pretty little skullcracker rocks' he might choose to throw. His eyes are open, staring at the sky, and he looks kind of dead until you see him blink.

    Without his makeup on, he looks a lot younger. He looks like the kid he is. Fuck, he's the same age as you. He's so goddamn skinny.

    Putting yourself in other people's shoes is not a skill you ever cultivated. Why would you want to, when no shoes could possibly be better than Strider shoes? So you're not really expecting the scenario that bubbles up in your imagination like the black alien oil in that X-Files movie Egbert talked you into watching. You're not prepared for the what-if.

    What if someone took a shot at the only thing you believe in -- like maybe they tried to prove Bro stole all his jams? Even if it was bullshit. And then what if you found Egbert... 'ripped up in shreds'... and something snapped in your head, and...?

    No. You wouldn't do what he did. But you sure as hell wouldn't be anybody's good example either. And if this asshole's matebro or whatever actually still wants to see him, who are you to stand in the way?

    "Get up, man," you say, and your voice comes out a damn sight mellower than you meant it to. "You're coming with me."

    He digs in the pocket of his retarded polkadot pyjama pants and pulls out a bicycle horn. Honks it weakly at you, like a rattlesnake warning you away from its hiding place. "This ain't no dreambubble, my brother," he rasps mournfully. "I can't get my forget on here. Can't unremember what harm I done."

    "Yeah. That's why you're gonna come with me. And lose the fucking horn."

    "No, brother, I --"

    "I'm not hearing that. Up."

    His eyes finally focus on you. Disbelieving, angry, afraid, but maybe also a little grateful. Slowly, as if he weighs a a ton, he begins to pull himself out of the lair and get his feet under him. "You're my motherfucking guide, then, motherfucker," he quavers uncertainly. "Where we going?"

    "I'm going to show you a miracle."

Chapter Text

==> John: Reassure the unsure.

TG: i hope to fuck you know what youre doing egbert
TG: that kid is approximately as competent to consent as a maple donut
TG: and i never saw the slaughterclown in action but im pretty sure he's no creampuff
TG: so
TG: just
TG: are you sure
EB: haha, oh man, don't tell me the ironic rapping roof ninja is scared of clo_

    Tavros snatches your hand away from the keyboard mid-word, and you're too surprised to resist. You turn to him in confusion.

    "Sorry," he blurts, but he doesn't let go.

    "What's wrong?"

    "I'm not trying to, uh, be your auspistice or anything, but, do you really want to make uh, fun, of him for that?"

    "That's how we always..." You trail off as you start seriously trying to see his point, and he releases your wrist. "You really think I shouldn't joke with him? It's gonna look weird, dude."

    Tavros blinks slowly. His brown eyes are huge, he's like an anime mascot or something. You feel like you're getting chewed out by a cartoon hamster. "I'm sorry, uh, John, can I call you John?"

    "Sure, why wouldn't you?"

    "Well, Dave always called you, uh, Egbert, but I assume that's a, sort of, Dave thing, that he does."

    You chuckle. "Yeah, it kind of is." You gesture to the keyboard. "I really shouldn't keep him waiting. He sounds nervous."

    Tavros goes nodnodnod like you just guessed a word in charades. "That's what, uh, I'm trying to tell you. I know it's different for, humans, he explained to me at uh, great length, repeatedly, how his pity for me is not, romance, but, just, a friendship, and how it's the same with um. You. And him. But even if that's the case, uh, which, I am not saying it isn't, because of course you know best how you feel --"

    "I hate to rush you, but..." You gesture at the screen. Your blinking cursor is demanding attention.

    He takes a deep breath and blurts the rest out in a desperate rush: "I haven't known him as long as you but I spent enough time with him when I was dead to know he doesn't invite just anyone to pity him the way he just did for you."

    You blink at him a few times. Then you turn back to the holographic rectangle hovering before you, where Dave's words suddenly look like an open wound, and yours look like an accusation. You're very careful, as you reach for the keyboard, that you don't even brush the enter key on your way to the backspace.

EB: yes. it's okay, dave.
EB: it's going to work out fine, i promise.

    is what you type instead, and a weight lifts from you as you send it. Sure, you always needle each other. But this is some very real shit happening right now.

    You never actually met Gamzee in the bubbles. You only had one dead self, and you only visited Dave and Tavros briefly. From the way Dave talked, he experienced a very long time in that drifting dream; weeks, maybe months. Whereas what you remember could've been a long afternoon. A weekend, at most. You hung out with Vriska, you dropped in on a few Daves, one of whom was rooming with Tavros in some kind of hilarious sitcom arrangement, and then a troll girl named Aradia -- who had alive eyes, not dead white ones -- dropped in to explain how the alive versions of you and your friends had this plan where everyone was going to be alive again. Suddenly, bam! you were the you that never died, and always had been, but you had your dead self's memories as clear as if they were your own.

    Anyway, they didn't want to talk about it, so nearly everything you know is what your alive self learned from Karkat. He didn't want to talk about it either, but he did anyway, because he's Karkat. Unfortunately, you were too freaked out from dead parents and getting stabbed and resuscikissing Rose and all that to really absorb the information.

TG: okay man you asked for it
TG: one tearstreaked multiple murderclown coming up
EB: should i ask jade to shoot up another firework?
TG: no
TG: i got this

turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum

    You take a deep breath and give Tavros a big smile as you put your own computer away. "Now we just need to think of a way to distract them."

    He turns to follow your gaze; you duck under his sweeping horn, but you forget your own horns, and they smack together. The pair of you give a little unison yelp and hurry to disentangle. Ouch! That was like getting whacked on the nose. These horns are definitely not for fighting mooselike collision battles with! Once disengaged, you're able to finish the motion, and consider your next obstacle.

    Three trolls have arrived so far in response to your signal. Kanaya is the girl Rose spent a lot of the game talking to, and after a brief and really very polite greeting, she sat down with Rose and they've been chattering away ever since. Kanaya isn't the problem. It's the other two. The big blue guy and the little green girl. They came in dragging some kind of dead animal -- giant sloth? possibly? -- and seemed to think everyone would want to eat it. Raw. Jade's talking hunting with the green girl right now. Big boy blue is hovering protectively over her. You have no idea how you're going to handle this.

    "Those are the ones, right?" you ask out of the side of your mouth.

    "When he tried to, uh, tell me," Tavros mutters, "he didn't so much, actually, say the words, but he, when he was thinking about it, there would be blood on his clothes, uh, for a minute. Equius's and Nepeta's and, uh, his own." He looks down, locking his fingers together as if to keep from wringing his hands. "I know it can't be. Um. Like it was. I just want to talk to him first. Just for a little while." He looks up, meets your eyes with his huge begging ones. "If that's okay. Or even if it isn't. Because it's uh, really important."

    You clap him on the back and give him a reassuring nod. Who are you to deny the heartfelt pleas of a sad cartoon hamster?

Chapter Text

==> John: Enlist some help.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

EB: rose, don't look over here, just answer in pesterchum.
EB: and don't let kanaya read over your shoulder, okay?
EB: unless you think she can
EB: augh rose no!
EB: what did i just say!
TT: Calm down, John. I only glanced at you.
TT: And considering that she's sitting right beside me, it would be suspicious if Kanaya were to avoid looking at my screen. It would suggest a secret communication.
EB: okay, i suppose you're right.
TT: If your intent is that I 'act normal', I am doing so.
TT: Now, please, explain yourself. This sudden air of espionage is dreadfully exciting.
EB: ah, haha, no, it's not anything really big.
EB: it's just that the next person who's going to show up is someone the blue guy and the green girl
EB: ... i mean, equius and nepeta. sorry tavros, it's just a lot of names to remember all at once.
TT: Surely you don't need to have your conversation with him in a chat window addressed to me. He's sitting right next to you. There's very little chance the two in question can hear you all the way over there.
EB: better safe than sorry, rose!
TT: Can you see me facepalming, John?
EB: can you see me rolling my eyes, rose? come on, this is important!
TT: Very well. I shall restrain my perfectly justified criticisms for the time being.
EB: like i was saying, someone is on the way that equius and nepeta might get pretty angry at when they see him.
EB: i really don't want any violence getting started now. i can't make them forgive him
EB: i mean it's really not even my place to ask them to
EB: but i don't want anyone doing a reverse double somersault half twist off the handle before we all get a chance to talk about it
EB: and apparently he's going to be a lot calmer if tavros gets to talk to him first.

    You've been pretending not to watch Rose while you type, but you can see her through the corner of your screen, and at this her elegant friend leans over and says something into her ear. Your anxiety about someone besides Rose reading this eases. She's being perfectly discreet.

TT: We're discussing the troll named Gamzee, I'm given to understand.
TT: I've been asked to ask you whether you know his current psychological state.
EB: according to dave...
EB: sad.
EB: and possibly sleepy.

    You can't make out either girl's expression from here, but Kanaya's nod is more a bowing of the head.

TT: I assume you would like me to think of a way to keep them occupied long enough for such a conversation to occur, preferably without angering them further.
EB: do you have any ideas?
TT: Of course. Leave everything to me.
EB: you're a lifesaver!
EB: maybe even literally!
TT: Just promise me one thing, John.
TT: When it comes time for the unavoidable meeting between killer and victim, promise you won't handle it in your usual thoughtlessly naive manner.
TT: Blithely assuming everyone is as forgiving as you are will likely result in disaster.
EB: i'm taking this totally seriously, i swear.

    You raise your head, wait for her to do the same, and draw an X over your heart. Rose nods. Kanaya does a baffled headtilt. Maybe trolls don't do cross-your-heart.

    "What's she going to do?" Tavros stage-whispers as Rose and Kanaya get up.

    You shrug. "Beats me, but whatever it is, it'll work. She's the smartest person I know."

    Rose and Kanaya stroll casually over to where Equius and Nepeta are chatting with Jade beside the huge furry carcass they dragged in. You wish you could hear what they're saying! But you have to pretend not to be watching or it'll look suspicious.

    "So," you say, trying to distract yourself and Tavros. "You and Gamzee are pretty close, huh?"

    "Uh." His cheeks darken. It's weird to see somebody blush brown. It's like he's getting a time lapse tan. "I don't really, know, what we are. He talks like he's um, flushed for me, but, I'm not sure that's, a thing I'm ready for, you know?"

    "Is that one of the quadrants? Karkat tried to explain them to me, but he was mad at me and that was distracting. You know how he gets. You end up thinking about how amazingly creatively disgusting he is instead of what he's actually saying."

    Tavros chuckles guiltily. "That's sort of true, isn't it?" He rubs the back of his neck, and his fading blush renews itself as he remembers your question's still hanging. "Flushed is, one of the quadrants, yes. It's the uh, red, or heart quadrant. I guess it's the one that's closest to, what you humans, or former humans, have, or had?"

    Suddenly your own cheeks are flaming. Up until that point you were merely discussing some weird alien thing, something abstract. But some kind of figure-ground inversion just happened, and now the vase is still there but you can't unsee the faces. "You mean he's in love with you?" you say, and despite yourself you squeak on the pertinent word.

    "I'm, not sure," Tavros murmurs. He looks down at his lap, where his fingers are picking nervously at each other. "I just... want to have the chance to find out."

    "Okay," you croak. Jeez, why are you acting like such a kid? Just because they're both boys? That doesn't matter to trolls! Or is it because you've never seen anyone actually have a romance outside the movies before? That shouldn't make you nervous! That should be really cool! In fact, it is really cool. It's poignant and dramatic! Gamzee is a criminal with a heart of gold, and Tavros is his loving w-- okay, his confused best friend who may or may not like-like him, but that doesn't sound as good -- and you're making their tearful reunion possible.

    In fact, you know what? It doesn't get any better than this.

    "Trust us," you say, and Tavros looks up sharply at the confidence in your voice. "No one can beat Rose at headgames. She is simply the best there is."

    Right on cue, Equius and Nepeta start walking away, Equius dragging that big dead animal over his shoulder. Jade calls something cheerfully after them, which you can't quite make out, then goes back to messing with the alchemiter. Rose returns to her seat, Kanaya beside her, and sends you her answer.

TT: That should keep them occupied for at least an hour.
EB: what did you say?
TT: I simply suggested that they skin and butcher their prize somewhere away from the clearing in which a number of us are likely to be camping.
TT: Nepeta wasn't entirely clear on the concept, but Equius convinced her that the swarming of flies on a carcass is not a comforting sound to the rest of us.
EB: thanks, rose. have i told you lately how awesome you are?
TT: As a matter of fact, no, you haven't.
EB: well, you're awesome.
TT: Thank you. I believe Jade had some questions for you about what to alchemize next.
EB: ok, i'll go talk to her!

    Alchemizing is still fun, even if it's more complicated now, and Jade is the best person to work on it with, because she doesn't take things too seriously. You kind of lose track of time. You don't realize how long has passed until you notice it's getting hard to see the backs of the captchalog cards. You're going to have to alchemize a light source pretty soon!
    "The purrocious huntress returns, bearing oodles of delicious steaks fur everyone!"
    Wait, Nepeta is coming back? But Dave and Gamzee should've been here long before --
    "Hey, bro, you all need to light a fire or something, and I don't mean the sick kind, because I can just take my shades off but the clowndouche here is running into trees."
    Oh.
    Shit.

Chapter Text

==> John: Lose control of the situation.

   Things shift into slow, just like they did when you fought your first ogres, just like when you first faced Noir. This is going to be bad. You can feel the bad coming. It makes your stomach hurt.

    You see Dave step out from between the trees, looking calm and cool as ever, dragging a strange troll by the wrist. That must be Gamzee. He's taller than Dave, skinny, stooped and loose-limbed. His skin looks weird, like he's a zombie or something, probably because it's one of those crazy troll-blood colors but the dusk light is ruining your color vision. His eyes are like fried eggs. Seriously, he looks concussed. If Dave beat him up you're going to be so annoyed.

    You glance back in the other direction and see Nepeta bounce into the clearing, blood-soaked and happy, and you see her bounce and grin turn into stillness and anger. She bares her teeth like an animal. Not good. Not good.

    Tavros makes a choked noise and goes gallumphing past you, heading for Gamzee. Gamzee's eyes suddenly look a lot less eggy, and he straightens up a bit.

    Nepeta makes a snatching motion in the air, and suddenly there's some kind of ninja claw thing on her hand.

    "Ohhh crap," you warble softly, spreading your hands at your sides. The breeze feels so sluggish here, it's like it doesn't even know you, and you're not sure you can gather it in time.

    Tavros collides with Gamzee's chest, and he just clings there. Gamzee's arms go around him. Gamzee's face softens into this amazing expression of baffled tenderness, like his heart just broke into a million butterflies and he doesn't even know how to breathe anymore, and God how you wish you could just watch their beautiful reunion but Nepeta just started across the clearing with long strides and she's gaining speed.

    "Please wait," you shout at her as you throw yourself in her path.

    She doesn't even slow down. With barely a glance at you, she raises her clawed hand as if to swat you out of her way. You hit her in the chest with a marshmallow fist of wind, bowling her head over heels back the way she came.

    Now you have her attention. She has two claws when she gets up, and her snarl is turned on you. "This is none of your business."

    "It's everyone's business," you plead. "Don't be in such a hurry to do things you can't undo!"

    "Get out of my way!"

    "I'm sorry, but no!"

    She charges you, and this time she leaps over your first push of wind; you barely catch her with the second one, and her claws come alarmingly close before she goes flying again. As she rolls to her feet, she opens her mouth as if to scream at you, but pauses and glances past you.

    That's all the warning you get before an arm loops around your chest from behind, pinning your arms, and a cold metal point presses the side of your neck. "Calm down, dipshit. She's not going to kill him."

    Karkat's voice in your ear is gravel and gold. Your knees wobble. Fucking hell. What a terrible time for your weird new body to betray you.

    "Let me go!" you wail as Nepeta charges past you. "Karkat, please! No more killing. Please."

    "Would you fucking listen when people talk to you?" Despite the blade at your throat, he sounds more exasperated than threatening. "She's not going to kill him. Watch."

    "You don't know that!"

    But instead of leaping, she's loping. Slowing to face him instead of lighting into him. Sometime while you were being distracted by Karkat, Gamzee got in front of Tavros, and is holding him back with an outstretched arm. Gamzee is standing up straight, head high, but it doesn't look like defiance or anger. More like... well, you don't really know the word for it. Like someone getting ready to take his medicine.

    Nepeta raises a claw. Gamzee closes his eyes. You struggle against Karkat's grip and get a shallow cut for your trouble. Karkat growls wordless irritation against the side of your head.

    Nepeta slashes Gamzee across the face, leaving three bleeding lines. Then she logs her claws and spreads her empty hands at her sides as if to show everyone watching that she's done. "Wear that and remember," she snarls.

    Gamzee nods.

    Nepeta turns around and walks back the way she came, to meet her blue friend who's just now coming out of the woods. Equius stops, mouth hanging open. Shuts it sharply. Even with dusk closing in, you can see his adam's-apple bob.

    "Is it over?" you mutter. "Or is he going to --"

    Karkat snorts and lets you go. "He won't do shit. He didn't even fight back when it happened. I should've known he couldn't. I owe him a fucking apology."

    You turn around, absently feeling at the place where Karkat's sickle cut you. You're starting to be pretty annoyed about that, now that the drama seems to be over. He didn't have to go that far, he could've really oh shit he's fucking beautiful.

    Those angry eyes. Those tight lips. The weapons clenched in his white-knuckled hands. The sheer trembling intensity in every line of his deceptively thin body. He's so gorgeous like this, you want to fight him like you've never wanted anything before. You want to needle him, make him angrier, just so you can see the fire in him burn brighter.

    This is weird, so weird, you don't know what to do with it, you're being pulled by such conflicting impulses, you don't know whether to pull out your hammer and attack him, or kiss him, or run and hide until the feeling of wanting to kiss another boy goes away. And then there's the part of you that wants to giggle uncontrollably about all the communism jokes you could make. Because hammer and sickle lawl.

    "Snap out of it, Egbert," Dave says. "Soap opera later. Barbecue now. I'm fucking starving."

    You burst out laughing from sheer relief. Your tunnel vision clears, and you finally notice the others with Karkat. "This is almost everyone, isn't it? Sweet! Let's have a party!"

    "You're such a fucking idiot," Karkat grumbles, but he smiles that little grumpy twitch of a smile again.

Chapter Text

==> Sollux: You gotta keep 'em separated.

Strider gives you a chilly stare while he gathers a fistful of his dazed friend's hood and tries to tug him out of his eyelock with Karkat. The cooldouche's shades are not on his face. They're hooked on the neckband of his shirt. His ember-red irises spark a matching glow in your chest. Wow, great, another doomed battle to fight: trying to shut off this waxing hatred while he makes it fucking impossible by lifting his lip just enough to flash a perfect white fang.

    "Aw hell, here comes the donut patrol," he drawls at you, his voice softened by an accent almost as laconic as a seadweller's. "Gotta ask you to wait on dishing out another helping of police brutality, Smokey, cuz if I don't get my derp out of your boss's charisma radius PDQ we're gonna have to turn the hose on 'em."

    "I have no fucking clue what you jutht thaid," you snap. Which is kind of a lie. You got the part about Karkat's charisma radius. And you reluctantly concede that's the perfect description for it. It's like a gravity well. And Egbert is clearly heading for splashdown. Strider's grip on his collar only means the asshole's getting pulled along behind him.

    A look at Karkat confirms he's not going to introduce any sanity or restraint to the situation. He's drifting toward Egbert just as helplessly. Egbert gives an uncomfortable giggle. Karkat narrows his eyes and runs the tip of his tongue along his upper teeth. Egbert whimpers softly.

    "Oh for fuckth thake, KK," you snap, and step between them, breaking their line of sight. Karkat focuses on you with a start. His cheeks begin to darken.

    "What the fuck is your problem?" he growls.

    "You'll thank me later."

    Behind you, Strider must've gotten Egbert's attention as well, because suddenly Egbert is chattering a mile a minute. "Oh wow, Dave, you took your shades off! This is the first time I ever saw you without them! Your eyes are super cool! I always wanted to see them, but I thought I'd have to like, sneak up while you were sleeping or something!"

    "You could've just asked, Egbert. Christ. It's not that big a deal."

    "But you always hide them --"

    "Cuz they're sensitive as fuck. Otherwise I'd hooooly shit, hello, stop that, no, down girl."

    Terezi gives her signature maniacal laugh. "Just a little lick, Dave! They're like pie cherries in syrup!"

    "They're my fucking eyes, you madwoman. Wait, did you -- is that -- did you color in your shades with a marker?"

    She just laughs again. It sounds like they're well away now. She's the first one you found on your search for allies, and although you like her fine, you're relieved she's found someone else to harrass. She got her vision back too, just like you did, but she doesn't want it. Apparently her other senses are a lot more interesting.

    The other ally you found is Aradia, and as far as you're concerned she can stick around as long as she likes. Her presence is so soothing. And she likes to hold hands. She takes yours again as you steer Karkat in the opposite direction from wherever Egbert and Strider are going.

    "You were right, Sollux," she says. "I hope that means you're right about everyone else too."

    It takes you a moment to figure out what she's talking about. "Oh. You mean..." You glance over your shoulder. Gamzee. He and Tavros are hugging again. They're not talking or crying, they're not groping or making out, they're just... standing there. Hugging. Like each of them is afraid somebody's going to steal the other one.

    "Of course he's fucking right," Karkat says dully. "If Captor says none of us are going to die, then as far as I'm concerned we're the most invincible assholes on this planet or any fucking other."

    You shrug one shoulder. "I jutht thaid I don't hear any of uth. That doethn't mean we're immortal or anything."

    "Whatever," he mutters.

    Something about his tone kindles a thrill of worry in you. Karkat is never apathetic. You stop -- Aradia stops too, tugged back by your linked hands -- and study Karkat's face. He looks back at you with vague eyes; the fire Egbert lit in him has died back to gray coals.

    "Shit, KK, you're thwaying like you're about to fall over. You need to thleep."

    "We're still missing three people." He narrows his eyes at you, but his glare holds only a fraction of its usual aggression. "I'd think you'd be impatient to find Feferi." He glances at Aradia, brows drawing down. Maybe wondering if you've forgotten Fef now that Aradia's alive again.

    You shake your head. "I'm pretty fucking tired myshelf, KK. My head is theriouthly killing me. If I try and find anyone elshe I'm going to pash out."

    "Would it make you feel better if I go look for them from the air?" Aradia offers. She closes her eyes for a moment, and her wings appear on her back in a burst of shimmering dust.

    "What the fuck is that?" Karkat demands. "You still have those? Why didn't you tell me you still have those?"

    "You didn't ask," Aradia dimples, and launches into the air.

    Karkat tilts his face up to follow her flight, up and up and does he not realize he's slowly keeling over backwards --? Nope, there he goes. You catch him, but he's surprisingly heavy considering he's not a whole lot burlier than you are, and you're kind of dizzy from your headache. Both of you go down. Slowly, though, reeling and catching yourselves and folding up. In the end, you're sitting sort-of crosslegged, and he's sprawled on his back with his head on your thigh.

    You laugh weakly, and he cracks a grin. "Okay," he says after a moment, "this is surprisingly comfortable."

    "Let'th jutht relakth here for a while."

    He rolls his head against your leg so he can look up at you. "Fuck you, Captor, you don't get to declare naptime, you're not my lusus."

    You swallow your pride and let your voice fill with pleading. "Pleathe, KK. If my headache getsh any worshe I'm going to throw up."

    He studies you for a moment longer. Then his lashes sweep down again and you can feel his body soften as he lets his weariness take over. "Just for a minute," he mutters warningly.

    "Jutht for a minute," you agree, and rest your hand on his head.

Chapter Text

==> Sollux: No, seriously, don't pity Karkat, this is ridiculous.

    His hair is incredibly soft against your oversensitive palm. It's a surprising enough sensation that it seems to lessen your headache just by distracting you from it. Slowly, experimentally, you push your spread hand into his hair, feeling the wild thickness of it, seeing its blackness swallow your pale-yellow fingers. His scalp radiates heat against your skin.

    "I know what you're doing," he mutters. "It's not going to work."

    "Don't be a paranoid athole, KK. It jutht feelth cool, that'th all."

    He snorts.

    "Uh... inshidentally... what did you think I wath doing?"

    "Trying to make me fall asleep, duh."

    You sigh wearily. "Well, if you really want to shtay awake, we have plenty to talk about. For inshtanshe, the thing with you and Egbert. What ith that? Black? Red? Human mono-quadrant bullshit? Dumb animal lusht?"

    His brows twitch, then smooth, as if frowning is too much work. They're such goddamn elegant brows, how did you not notice that before? Come to think of it, you never actually saw him hold still like this. You never got to really look at him. His face was never this relaxed. He's... lovely.

    Your best friend is lovely. Even with human skin; that vulnerable pallor has its own appeal. His resting face is sweet as sopor, all long lashes and curvy lips, and his hair is so soft you can't stop petting it. This could be really good or really bad. This could be the best thing that ever happened, or it could destroy a friendship you can't live without.

    You so don't feel up to this right now.

    "What, you want to have a feelings jam?" he grumbles. "You pale for me, Captor?"

    "In your dreamth," you retort automatically, like you always have, though you were never really sure before. You're sure now. Whatever this is you're feeling, hugs are not going to be enough. "I'm jutht athking for informational purpotheth."

    "Fine. For your information, he's obviously gagging for my enormous throbbing bulge. End of sharing time."

    "Tell me it'th black," you hear yourself prompt him, and you want to kick yourself in the eye for being so obvious. You scramble for a justification. "You damn near thlit hith throat, he'th not going to pity you after that."

    He swallows. "Yeah," he confesses after a minute. "Okay. Shit. Yeah, I admit it, I'm so black for him I'd rip the sky down with my bare hands just for the chance to slap his face. Go ahead and laugh."

    "I'm not laughing," you say softly. You're relieved. Why are you relieved?

    You know perfectly damn well why you're relieved.

    "Why not?" he demands wryly, opening one eye.

    You put on a crooked smile for him. "It'th about time you found a worthy rival. Now maybe you can thtop black-crushing on me."

    "Asshole." He lifts a hand and flails it vaguely at you. If he's trying to hit you, it's the weakest effort you ever saw. "I never hated you like that and you know it. You're just annoying."

    "Not half as annoying as you," you return automatically, but your heart's not in it.

    He doesn't answer, and a gentle silence falls. You watch Egbert and Strider try to dig a firepit big enough to cook all the meat Nepeta brought, while Terezi 'helps' by drawing wildly skewed outlines for them to follow. You watch Kanaya and the white-haired girl -- Rose? is that her name? -- showing each other clothing, emptying their sylladices of everything wearable until their vicinity is paved with fabric. Jade is alchemizing things that glow, apparently trying to come up with some kind of ultimate light source, while Equius holds things for her and Nepeta monologues with big sweeping arm gestures and the occasional scamper. Gamzee is sitting with his back against a tree, Tavros curled against his chest, and they both seem to be sleeping.

    "I think," you begin quietly, not sure Karkat is even still awake. Remember that if he isn't, you don't want to wake him up, and stop.

    "Well?" he murmurs. "Spit it out."

    "I think thish new shpeshieth we became --"

    A snicker. "Was that supposed to be 'species', Thollukth?"

    "Bite me. Yeth. I think we're less... belligerent?... than we were ath trollth. I couldn't thay if we're thtill more aggrethive than humans, but..." Your voice drops to a whisper. "KK, look at how peasheful we all are right now."

Chapter Text

==> Sollux: Fine, pity Karkat. But realize you're going to need a new word for that quadrant eventually.

    "Yeah," he breathes. "It's fucking surreal, is what it is. Mm. I wonder if. Okay, the thing is. Egbert. Like I said. Full-on starless black for him, okay? But. I don't really... hate him."

    Your voice is suffused with uncertainty. "That'th what 'black' meanth, though."

    "Maybe not anymore. Maybe it doesn't have to be about hate." He forms the words slowly and carefully, thinking it out as he goes. "The adversarial drive is still there, I still want to compete. I mean... fuck. Did you see how he moved? He was fast enough to block Nepeta, man. I have to fight him, I need it. And I sure as hell don't pity him. He's the happiest nitwit in three universes. But at the same time I have to admit I'm basically okay with him. No matter how bad he pisses me off, we're Earth human buddies like he says we are, I can't deny that. So... maybe rivalry can be a little more... friendly now?"

    Not with Strider it can't; he makes your guts churn. But you're not about to argue with Karkat when he finally seems to be getting somewhere in his favorite quadrant. You know how much that means to him. "Jusht maybe take it a little shlower, okay? He looked like he didn't know if he wanted to jump on your bulge or thcream and run away."

    Karkat chuckles. "He's an idiot. You're right, I should give him time to scrape up the dregs stuck to the bottom of his think pan and pile them into something resembling a functional miniature thinksponge. Just... argh. 'I'm just picking up your slack, Karkat, nyeh nyeh!' Smarmy little fuck, he drives me crazy." He wriggles a little farther into your lap, getting more comfortable, and doesn't protest when you drape a wrist over his shoulder. "Your turn, nookwipe. Fess up. Are you seriously trying to get two girls in the same quadrant?"

    "Climb up your own washte chute and shmother," you retort amiably. "Aradia'th all thmiley and hand-holdy with everyone now. She'th jutht thweet like that. She hugged you and Terezi too."

    "But you are after Feferi."

    "Am not."

    "Oh, come on. I saw you cuddling in the horn pile. Glubbing about feelings until I wanted to turn myself inside out and scrub my bile sac with a wire brush. You have no idea how foul it was."

    "Jealouth?"

    His eyes snap open. It's almost night now, and you can't see in the dark as well now, but you can see his expression. It's the furious scowl he always used to wear. "Fuck. You."

    You can't help but soften. It's comforting to know the old angry Karkat's still in there. And wow, did you hit a nerve? "I guessh I kind of took advantage of Fef a bit," you admit humbly. "She was rebounding sho hard, and I jusht... really needed a moirail right then, even a thorta fakey one. She only wanted to hear about my feelingth, though. She wouldn't talk about herth. It doethn't work like that, doeth it?"

    The scowl smooths. "Moirails," he echoes.

    "You thought we were red?"

    His shoulder nudges your calf as he shrugs.

    "Look, don't tell her I thaid thish, but... the gillsh? Kinda grossh."

    He giggles.

    Oh God. You made Karkat Vantas giggle. How is that even possible? He's lying on your lap and smiling like a little kid and your heart is fucking breaking with how much you love him. When did that happen? You're not ready for this.

    You swallow. You're not really going to say anything, are you? That would be a crazy risk. If you ruin this friendship -- you tell yourself sternly to change the subject.

    "Maybe redrom ithn't all about pity anymore either," you say. Okay, good, that's almost a subject change. "Becauthe I kind of admire you shomewhat." Oh hell no, Captor, what the fuck was that. No. Take that back immediately. Grab those words out of the air and stuff them back in your mouth somehow.

    Your pulse is pounding in your back teeth. Your head hurts so bad it makes your eyes water. You're so tired you don't even know if that was as obvious as you think it is. You study his eyes, turned up to you so sweetly, that rare smile still on his lips, and you wait for him to shoot you down.

    Instead he gropes across his chest until he finds your hand, threads his fingers through yours, and closes his eyes. "We should talk about that later. I'm too fucking tired to deal with it. But if you wuss out and pretend you never said it I will punch you in the junk.  Right now I guess I better sleep a little. Wake me up if anything happens."

    Your mouth falls open in shock. He's trusting you to watch over him while he sleeps? Even though not everyone has had a chance to react to his blood color yet? You saw how he tensed up when Aradia compared her ruddy arm to his pale one, and that was just Aradia. Equius, for instance, is a huge blood snob, and you don't even know if he's still idiotically strong. And yet Karkat is willing to fall asleep right here in the open. Because you're there.

    You don't think you've ever smiled this wide before in your life. "You can count on me," you whisper.

    "Cheesy, Captor," he replies softly, and squeezes your hand.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Experience sleep inertia.

    You've been hearing these quiet voices for a long time, a meaningless murmur like wind in the trees. They resolve gradually into sense, but they're still distant, nothing to do with you. Your body feels heavy and numb. You're not sure you remember how to move it.

    "...kinda nasty, but a nice hot Texas barbecue sauce would fix it right up. If I brought any. Which why the hell would I." That's Strider. There are some eating noises, which remind you that you've been smelling cooking meat.

    "Keep your voishe down, you're going to wake him up." Captor, of course. Oh yeah, you're sleeping in his lap. It's really goddamn comfortable, too.

    "If the fin trolls' little metal concert didn't wake him up, nothing will." A pause. "Oh God. No one else in the entire universe will get that joke. That's lonely, man."

    "I hope you're not trying to get me to pity you, Cooldouche, becauthe it'th never going to happen."

    "You're only calling me that because you can't say Strider." You can hear the smirk in his voice.

    "Fuck you, why are you even talking to me?" A pause. "What about him? Don't thay his name, that'll wake him up for sure."

    "Not that I'd have a problem asking him to his face, but okay, you get to answer instead. What's his deal? One minute he's seducing Egbert with some kind of super pheromone beam, the next minute he's using you for a cuddle pillow. What is he trying to pull?" Beat. "Now you're gonna wake him up."

    "I don't have to move a muthcle to juishe you like an orange, Thtrider."

    "Whoa up, Officer. Let's test that out later. Right now I --"

    "Are you theriouth?" Disbelief, with a warm undercurrent of interest.

    "What?"

    "Did you theriouthly jutht athk me to duel you later?"

    "Well, you started it. Waaaait. Oh shit. No, dude, I'm not asking you on a hate date. Slow down there, pilgrim. I don't even know what my junk is called now, I'm in no hurry to get it wet. I just thought..."

    "You thought what."

    "You took a shot at me first, dude."

    "You... thurprithed me."

    A low chuckle. "Whatever, man. I answered my own question, anyway. That's what he's after with Egbert, isn't it? That... calgon quadrant or whatever."

    "Caliginouth," Captor corrects venomously.

    "And you guys are, what, monorails? Or matesquirts?"

    "You are doing that on purpothe."

    "Naw, ya think?" A dry snort of a laugh, so much like Captor's that it confuses your mental image of which of them is where. "Okay, dude, look. Obviously you don't like me, and that's fine, because I think you're an asshole. But when it comes to Egbert I'm willing to like... fucking... bow my head and ask nice. Okay? Help me put the brakes on this. The kid's not ready. And he may be tough on the outside, but he has a gooey candy center. We need to give him time to process, or both the fuckass and the derp are gonna get their spades broken."

    The fact that they're talking about you is a pretty abstract concept right now. Otherwise you'd be really annoyed. John is clueless, take it slow, bluh bluh. You fucking get it, already. What a couple of gossipy bitches.

    "It mutht be tho confuthing for you." Captor is gloating. "Thuddenly having four quadrantsh where you uthed to have one. The training wheelth are off, Cooldouche. Can you deal?"

    "Suck my shiny new troll junk, Smokey. It is already fucking dealt."

    "Really."

    "So you just tell Grumpy to keep it carbonic --"

    "Calig -- you're not even trying --"

    "-- because Egbert's heart quarter is mine."

    There's a long pause. Long enough for you to ponder whether you've been eavesdropping or just dreaming. Long enough to begin to slide back under the surface of sleep.

    "You do adapt fasht," Captor says quietly. He sounds a little bit impressed.

    "Might not be too many days before I come looking for that duel, either, so keep your disco lights polished." That sentence has big, grinny teeth on it. Wow. Did Captor seriously just net himself a kismesis while you were napping? Good for him, you guess.

    "You wish," Captor grumbles. It's a pleased kind of grumble, though.

    "Speaking of the derp," Strider says, and a moment later said derp's arrival his heralded by a warm rush of wind.

    "Oh my God you guys!" Egbert gushes. The volume of his voice is such a contrast, it makes you realize how quiet Strider and Captor were being. "The most awesome thing!"

    "Ssh!" Captor says.

    "Jesus, Egbert," Strider hisses. "You wanna wake up Bitchzilla?"

    "Hey," Captor says warningly.

    "Karkat is gonna want to see this too! Hey Karkat. Hey." A hand grabs your knee and gives it a little shake, and suddenly you're a lot clearer on where your body is. You flop a hand up and rub your eyes to unstick them, then open them a sliver. Oh look. It's John Human. Bright and perky as ever, damn him. "Wake up," he says unnecessarily. "Check this out."

    "Fucking what," you mumble. "How long did I sleep?"

    "Three or four hourth," Captor says, and when you look up at him he gives you a soft, fond smile. So cheesy.

    "Three hours forty-one minutes since you guys fell over," Strider corrects. Smug douche.

    Egbert points off to your right, toward the forest. "Don't you guys see that glow? That kinda greenish glow? You see how that side of the sky is lighter?" He pauses for everyone to look.

    You lift yourself wearily on one hand, trying to see what he's talking about. "Yeah, maybe. So there's a moon. So what?"

    "I flew up so I could see over the trees." Egbert is practically bubbling too hard to talk. "It's not a moon, you guys. This is a moon. We're on a moon. That? Is a gas giant. It's so huge, you guys. When it's all the way up it's going to be so bright!" Something glitters on his dark lashes, then slips down his cheek. It's like a tear, only colorless. Do humans cry plain water?

    "Shit, Egbert --" Strider shifts as if to go closer, but stops when John rubs the tear away and laughs.

    "I'm just -- so happy. It's our first planetrise. We should all watch it together."

    Strider says what you're all thinking. "You're such a cornball, Egderp. But... yeah. Yeah, we should."

    "Because amazing moments should be shared with friends!"

    "Oh, God, quit blubbering, you're killing me." Strider pulls him into a hug and noogies him until he laughs.

    You look at Captor, and there's that gooey smile again. He reaches tentatively for you. You punch him in the ribs, but not very hard. Then you take his hand.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Spin track 01.

    "The nearest hill is that way. It's not very far, and there's only grass on top. Help me get everyone up there." Even wobbling with joysniffles and with his hair standing up where you noogied him, John is unstoppable. Yeah, you definitely gotta put your claim on him before someone else realizes he's the best.

    Karkat growls. "For the last fucking time, Egbert, stop pretending to be the leader."

    "But you look so sleepy. I thought I'd take care of this for you."

    "I'm fine. I slept, I'm awake, I'm fine."

    "Like a little sleepy puppy."

    You snicker. "Now you're just pissing him off on purpose."

    John gives you such an innocent look you can almost see the cartoon halo appear over his head. "But he does!"

    "Not falling for it, Egderp. Hateflirt later. Are we going up the hill or not?"

    John opens his mouth, hesitates, then looks to Karkat with a conciliatory smile. "C'mon. Our very first planetrise. You don't want to watch that from down here in the trees, right?"

    Karkat's frown is surprisingly mild. Probably something to do with how Red Vs. Blue is holding his hand and gazing at him all cow-eyed. "I didn't say we're not going to fucking do it," Karkat grumbles. "You just need to run things past me before you start giving orders. Understand?"

    John shrugs brightly. "Okay, Karkat! I'll go tell everyone! And I'll tell them you said to do it," he adds condescendingly. He starts to get up.

    "Wait," Karkat snaps. "What happened while I was sleeping?"

    "Dave, you tell him, okay?" Before anyone can object, John is out from under your arm and off across the clearing.

    You roll your eyes indulgently. You have a suspicion why John is so escapey all of a sudden. His usually poker-faced and hands-off best bro is suddenly all huggy, and the guy he won't admit to crushing on is holding hands with someone else. The oshit feelings! light is probably blinking frantically in his fuzzy little brain. Poor kid. You wish you could reassure him that you intend to take things as slow as he needs you to, but even mentioning the possibility would be too fast at this point.

    Well, at least you can cover his escape. "Everyone's accounted for now. Aradia brought in Feferi and went back out looking. Then Eridan showed up and started arguing with her. Equius jumped in and started threatening Eridan. John tried to Care Bear Stare everyone into submission but they ignored him. Then Jade hit Equius and Eridan with a rolled up newspaper."

    Karkat studies you, scowling, trying to see if you're lying. He looks to Sollux for confirmation. Sollux grins fangily. "It wath magnifithent."

    "Every time either of them tried to talk, whap! whap!"  You give your best impression of Jade's 'bad dog no biscuit' technique. "When she ordered them to opposite sides of the clearing to think about how to get along with their peers, they just... went."

    Karkat gives Sollux a betrayed look.

    "You let me sleep through that?"

    You go on, "Then Vriska showed up and started trying to pal around with John, but she got distracted --"

    "You mean you thet Terezi on her," Sollux says. "Terezi ith apparently Thtrider'th attack tongue woofbeatht now."

    Karkat says, "I don't see her or Aradia."

    "Yeah, they flew off. I don't know what they're doing, but it doesn't look like they're fighting. I saw 'em doing barrel rolls overhead seventeen minutes and twelve seconds ago."

    "Showoff." Karkat gets up and dusts off his ass. "Okay. Let's go look at this fucking gas giant that turns terminally perky palhonchos into blubbering pink monkey grubs." He stalks off. Sollux throws you an unreadable look, then follows.

    You go catch up with John. You're a lot less obvious about it, though. You make sure you're not dogging his heels like you're begging for snausages. You just happen to be handy if Gamzee wakes up with chucklevoodoo on his mind or something. Which he turns out not to; having a teddy Tav to snuggle seems to have ironed out a lot of his crazy.

    Once everyone's on board with the plan and moving toward the hill, John falls into step with you. "Dave, do you have like... a PA system?"

    You throw him a curious look. "I grabbed my whole DJ setup, I have a couple amps. Why?"

    "Well, not everyone got to eat yet, and we made lots of drinks, and even something as cool as that huge planet, well, everyone's not going to just stand around staring at it forever, soooo..." He gives you his brightest, derpiest grin. "Let's have a real party!"

    "You got it, Pinkie Pie," you laugh, and ruffle his hair. You're mine, you think fiercely. No one else would appreciate you properly. "There's a question of enormous significance we have to ponder now, though."

    "Which is?"

    "What should I spin first?"

    "I don't know, Dave, you're the DJ!"

    "Ah-ah!" You wag a finger. "You can't dismiss it that casually, my friend. We are, with the arguable exception of those frog things and the various critters in wizard robes Rose spilled out of her sylladex -- what the shit was up with those, anyway?"

    "One of them is my loving daughter Casey!"

    "John Egbert, you are my dearest bro-honcho but my God you're a retard sometimes."

    He just giggles. Adoratardedly.

    "Anyway, besides them, we are the first sentient beings to set foot on this planet. We are as gods to those bubblemanders and nakkodiles and kleptofroggies."

    He makes a hurry-it-up gesture; you're beginning to climb the hill now. "Aaaand?"

    "In the beginning was the Track, Egbert. Track Oh One. The very first music this planet will hear. Whatever I open my set with is the Fiat Lux of this shiny new universe."

    His eyes become awed blue saucers. The light of the rising planet is bright enough now that you can see their color. In a hushed voice, he says, "Oh wow, you're right! Gosh, I almost made a huge mistake and told you something silly to play!"

    "Relax, I'm not the 'yawohl mein fuhrer' type and never will be. I'll tell you when you're being stupid. So now you know how important it is, I'm open to suggestions."

    "Ooh." He thinks about it. He thinks about it so hard he stumbles. To your mild disappointment, he catches himself with wind before you can catch him yourself, but he does notice your movement and throw you a smile. "I trust you, Dave," he says. "You'll think of the perfect song. Something joyful. Something to commemorate -- no, to celebrate -- something about being with friends and being happy." He gets impatient with the muddy slope and uses the breeze to hop the both of you over a tricky spot. "But not that 'Celebration' song they play at all the school parties, everyone's so damn tired of that one."

    You laugh. "No Kool & The Gang, I promise."

    You're the first ones to the top. You turn together and look at the rising planet.

    It takes your fucking breath away.

    It's the same damn image you've seen in a thousand cheesy sci-fi book covers and as the backgrounds for CG spaceships and on the sides of airbrushed vans. But. This is real. This is the actual fucking sky you are actually fucking under, with the warm wind curling around you and ruffling your hair, the forest below full of night noises and unfamiliar stars shimmering above.

    The soft curve of the planet is so immense, your two spread hands at arm's length don't cover it, and it's not even halfway free of the horizon. It's quite clearly a sphere, not a disc the way Earth's moon looks -- looked -- in the sky. Bands of blues and whites and greens swirl around it, their edges ruffled and whorled in intricate fractals. The light it gives off is the palest blue-green. A little more green than blue.

    "I wonder if the green is from plants floating in the clouds," John muses. "Or flying forests! That would be so cool!"

    "John," you breathe. "Shut up. No further cool is needed. Maximum cool has already been achieved."

    You glance at him. The planet is reflected in his glasses. Then he tilts his head, the reflections slide away, and you can see his eyes. They're so goddamn bright. He just... has no idea how he shines, does he?

    He gives you a shy smile, almost like he knows you're talking yourself out of kissing him right now. "Yeah," he whispers. "You're right." But then he clears his throat and looks away, that dorky-bright grin taking over his face again. "You should set up the music stuff. Me and Jade will do food and lights. Here comes everybody!"

    Smiling to yourself, shaking your head slowly, you go to pick out a good spot for your equipment. It's good that he shook that mood off. You've been getting carried away too much already tonight. Telling ol' Two-Tone you might look him up for a hate date later and also you're calling dibs on John. You'll be lucky if that rumor doesn't make the rounds before John is ready to handle reality. Pushing things just then would've been way too much.

    Anyway, you know the perfect song to use now. You get started queueing up your set while the rest of your tiny tribe gathers. As each person arrives, they pause to gawk at the swelling curve of the planet for a minute. Quite a few have to wipe a tear or two. Then John or Jade catch them and give them something to do -- rugs, cushions, and blankets to spread around, little hovering fairy lights to place, bowls of barbecued sloth, plates of cake, and bottles of glow-in-the-dark punch to hand out. Only when everyone is present and starting to get a little restless do you cue up Track 01.

    It's not a masterpiece. It's not even culturally significant. It's what Bro calls 'hot garbage' -- a song you play for the crowd's sake, even though as a DJ you're sick of hearing it set after set. It's cheesy as hell and it's like, ten years old or something. But it's the happiest song you know.

    As the music begins, a garden of faces turns toward you, and for the first time you feel the power the DJ has over the crowd. I promise to use my powers for good, you think, and laugh, pushing the volume up a notch.

    Once again
    I find myself with my friends
    Dancing the night away it's like the party never ends

    Terezi is the first one to catch on. She jumps up with a whoop. "DANCE PARTY!" she yells. The smile John throws you is one hundred percent happiness. Maybe this song isn't so cheesy after all.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Rock the house.

    You wish Bro was here to see this. You know he'd do the ironic-paternal hand-on-head thing and say something like You have learned well, young padawan -- unless Star Wars isn't ironic anymore, but whatever -- and you'd just nod, because he knows damn well you had the best teacher. You always kind of thought he'd be there when you DJ'd your first party.

    Oh well. You don't need brorental approval to know the party's rocking. Not everybody's dancing, but considering how exhausted you all are, it's amazing there's any dancing at all.

    Terezi's especially fun to watch. She's a terrible dancer, but in the most hilarious way. Every so often she pops over to give you a request or tries to file-transfer you something she downloaded off the human internet while she was stalking you. You consented to play the Cops theme for her, but she got ticked off when you mashed it with 'Do It Like A Dude' ("What does that even mean, Coolkid? Jegus!") and refused to talk to you for twelve whole minutes, so now she can just deal with whatever you feel like spinning.

    Trolls, apparently, do not have DJs. That means they don't have the cultural clue to know that pestering the big man while he's rocking the house is for losers and attention whores. A few songs ago Vriska was up in your grill demanding some shit from one of John's stupid movies, for crying out loud. There is nothing in any of those movies that is even ironically cool.

    Wait -- you take that back. You're pretty sure 'Sweet Home Alabama' was in one of them, and that could make a tolerably decent mix with like... 50 Cent or something... oh hey, in fact, didn't someone already -- you flick hurriedly through your files -- shit yeah, it was Nelly, not 50 Cent. You cut that right into the middle of 'Back In Black', chopping them together like salad for a few bars and then dropping the ACDC track because trying to mash a new song into a pre-existing mashup you barely know is a trainwreck waiting to happen.

    Vriska grabs John's arm and says something into his ear. Probably asking if this is how it was in the movie, because it's not how she remembers it. John laughs and throws you a corny thumbs-up, then starts trying to line-dance with her.

    Oh, okay, now everyone wants to line-dance. Well, Kanaya and Gamzee and Tavros anyway. Fuck that's hilarious. When the Nelly/Skynyrd wears thin, you dig up that damn 'Cotton Eye Joe' thing so they can keep going, though you show the track zero respect, mixing it with 'Diesel Power', 'Headhunter', and a little Dick Dale surf guitar, and pitch-twitching that annoying girl singer until she sounds like Daffy Duck. No one seems to mind. Unless that's the reason Equius is heading for your al-fresco 'booth'. Maybe he's a big fan.

    He waits impatiently for your attention. He clears his throat. He clears his throat again.

    "Can't talk, beat matching," you say absently.

    Naturally, he takes that as his cue to converse. "That song you played some time ago. I do not know the name, but Nepeta liked it very much."

    And here's another thing Bro used to bitch about. People thinking you can hear their mental playlists. That one song. Goes sorta like tum-te-tum-tum. God, why is 'Diesel Power' refusing to match with 'Sci-Fi Wasabi'? The tempo's practically identical. Oh well, it's Cibo Matto, no one cares. "If you can't be specific you're shit outta luck."

    "The 'ooh ooh oowah-wah' song."

    Yeah, what did you just say. "I can't read your mind, Big Blue."

    "It was... she did... this." And then -- holy shit, is this real? -- the sweaty dude starts Caramelldancing to Front 242, right there in front of God and everybody.

    Unfortunately, he stops when you burst out laughing. You shake your head. "Yeah, okay, I played the SpeedyCake remix, I remember."

    "Yes. You will play it again."

    "No can do, Slim. A good DJ never spins the same track twice in a set, and shut your piehole, I don't take orders from you," you add sharply as he looks about to object. "But look, tell you what, you do that little dance again and I'll play something else she's sure to love."

    He scowls. His shirt is soaked right the fuck through and there's a drip jiggling under the end of his nose. "Is this necessary."

    "If you wannna see your kittygirl get her meme on, bud, you'll make those bunny ears and smile while you do it."

    He does. Oh fuck. He does it and he smiles like you're Satan's dentist doing a root canal on his soul. It's fucking amazing.

    "You're a sport," you laugh, and cue up 'Dragostea Din Tei'. He stares at you blankly through the intro. You point past him at his meowfriend. He turns around in time to see her light up and start bouncing and clapping.

    "Numa numa!" she squeaks ecstatically.

    Equius tosses you a surprisingly non-obnoxious smile and goes to let the crazed shipper chick climb all over him in her memetic fervor. DJ Creamsicle saves the day again.

    Waitasec. Since when are you DJ Creamsicle? You were pretty well decided on DJ Biznasty. One of your deadselves is rumbling like a bad taco in the back of your brain or something. Not that it's a bad name. Sounds a bit ravey, but there is definite irony value in it.

    A few tracks later, you spot Tavros drifting in your direction. That's a little surprising. He, at least, knows better than to bother you while you're mixing, because you taught him some of the basics yourself, and he knows how much concentration it takes. Still, if there's something he particularly wants, you guess you can toss your favorite puppy a milkbone.

    Instead of talking to you, though, he just meanders to a halt a few feet away and pretends to be there by accident. Doofus.

    "Hey Dave! Dave!" Here's Terezi again. "I know what you have to play next! You should say it's a special request from Eridan!" She sends you another file.

    You glance at the track name. It's 'Girlfriend' by Avril Lavigne. You don't even bother answering in words, you just flip her off.

    She grabs your arm. "Aww, come on, it's perfect. He'll shit a squid. C'mooooon. For me?"

    Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tavros starting to edge away. You flap your elbow in an unsuccessful attempt to dislodge Terezi. "Quit being a booth fly, Rez, you're scaring off my diamond."

    Terezi's eyebrows shoot up above her marker-opaqued glasses. She points her nose at Tavros, which does nothing to stop his slow-fade. "You two? Are you serious? I mean --" she makes a finger-diamond. "Really?"

    "Yah really." You hook down your shades so you can look over them. Your expression clearly says 'give me shit about this and i will delete everything you sent me without listening to it'.

    Either she gets the picture, or she has a merciful streak; you're betting on the former. She makes the obligatory attempt to lick your eye before you get your shades back up, but then she trots off to bother someone else. You do the unthinkable -- walk away from your turntables -- long enough to grab Tavros by the collar and tow him back to your station.

    "I, uh, didn't want to bother you while you're, working." From his smile, he's grateful you noticed.

    "Don't be a pussy. You're the least annoying meat product my grill has charred in hours. At least you know spinning is hard work. So spit it out, what were you going to request?"

    "Oh. Uh. Well." He looks down, twisting his hands in the hem of his shirt. "I know everyone's having, fun, still, and I don't want to be a party pooper and, uh, poop, the party --"

    "Gross, Tav."

    "Heheh. Um. It's just, some people, and by some people, I mean, Gamzee, are looking a little bit... wild around the eyes? Not just Gamzee! Karkat, also, has been specifically, in a very sour manner, saying extremely mean things to everyone who comes near him? A different kind of mean from, the usual kind, that he is."

    "You're saying it's time to start bringing it down."

    "I think, maybe, yes."

    You survey the crowd, and now that you're looking for it, yeah, he's right. A lot of folks have that stroppy, manic look that comes from too much sugar and not enough sleep. You glance at Tavros. The hopeful look on his face is just ridiculous. He wants so bad to hear he did good. "Yeah, I reckon you called it," you nod, and watch him light up.

    There's nothing worse than just dropping the ball at the end of a set, so you need to shade out slow. You throw on some Ryukyu Underground, match it up, and fade it in. Then you carefully unwedge your headphones from where you had them crammed in under the front curve of your horns.

    "Fuck these things," you mutter, rubbing one. "Can horns bruise? Cuz if they can, these will. I gotta tape up the edges of my cans to pad 'em out or something."

    "You could alchemize some flatter cans," he suggests, looking proud of himself for using real DJ slang. You refrain from rolling your eyes.

    You line up a few more tracks to autoplay, shit with enough beat to keep people from feeling let down but sweet enough to start relaxing them. Orbital, Deep Forest, Lemon Jelly. Then you sit down on the grass and pat the hillside beside you. "Aright, Cadillac, let's hear it."

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Be the pale brother.

    He wrinkles his nose as he joins you, confused as always by that nickname. You're never, ever going to explain it, because that expression is just too cute to give up. "Hear what, specifically?"

    "What you really came to say."

    "I really did, come to say, what I said."

    "And...?" You sigh. You flick his near horn with a nail to make him jump. "How many times do I have to tell you, kid. The Strider sees all. You were like a wallflower at her first school dance, nerving up to ask the boy of her dreams to dance to 'Can't Fight This Feeling'. There's something on your mind besides beats-per-minute."

    He hunches his shoulders and laughs his surrender. "I heard what you said to, uh, Terezi. You called me, your. Diamond."

    "So?"

    "I thought you didn't... um." When you give him the eyebrow expectantly, he forces himself to finish his sentence. "Want to be, moirails. With me."

    "Naw, dude, somebody's gotta look out for you, and your boyfriend's the motherfucking Joker, he's more likely to burn down Gotham than remember your birthday. Did you seriously think I'm not on board with this? I'm hurt, Goalposts. Who made all that laundry for you to burrow into, tell me that."

    He studies his knees, biting his lip. The immense glow of the planet overhead is bright enough to show his blush. "You said, just friends."

    "Did I say 'just'?"

    He flicks a sideways glance at you, then goes back to kneegazing. "I don't. Remember exactly?"

    "Christ, Tav. Even Gamzee picked up on it. He was gushing about how I take such good care of you."

    A jittery little nod. "I'm, glad, Dave, I just. Didn't expect you to say, anything, um, to Terezi?"

    "Problem?"

    "No!" You have to dodge his horn as he twists to look at you with huge shiny eyes. "Oh God. Do I sound like I have a problem? Because that is totally, not a thing that is true!"

    "Okay, then you need to chill and explain this shit to me, because your surprise is a surprise to me. This better not be because I talk shit about your raps. Look, I would love to introduce Kid Cadillac, hand you the mic, step back and watch you blow that crowd away, but that is not gonna happen unless you step up your game, because you flat-out suck. I care too much to spare your feelings. I thought you could take it."

    His eyebrows go up. Then he covers his mouth as he laughs, shaking his head.

    "Right, so what the fuck is wrong?"

    "It's... hehee. Nothing. Nothing is wrong, Dave. You told me before that you pity me somewhat, but, just, as a friend, but if you're feeling pale, now, then, um. I'm happy."

    Trying to force your brain to grind through the relevant deadself memories yields nothing at first but the realization that you're at least as tired as everyone else, and the Ugress track that just started autoplaying is way too fucking soothing. Pale, what's with that word today?

    "Gamzee was calling me your pale brother," you say slowly. "I don't -- okay, look, of course I'm pale, I'm a goddamn albino, this is news to no one. If you could just fucking explain what the big damn deal is, that would be great."

    Now he looks as confused as you feel. "What's a balbino?"

    "Albino." You tug at your bangs. "No pigmentation. Don't you guys have those?"

    He shakes his head slightly. "Is Rose, that, too?"

    You brush that off impatiently. "Who the fuck knows. Nobody has eyes that color, she's probably a whole new fucking species."

    "Is it a disease?"

    "No, dude, there's nothing wrong with me." You're not about to start complaining about your aching eyes and sunburned scalp. That is a different topic altogether. You flick your fingers vaguely in the direction of his horn; you don't make contact, but he still twitches. "Explain!"

    "Is it something you're, maybe, ashamed of?"

    "Fuck no! Strider's got no reason for shame. Now explain the thing."

    "Sorry. I just thought if you're, a little, sensitive about it, it would make sense when people talk about a, pale, thing, you would think they mean, you, when they mean, a quadrant."

    You blink a few times. "Pale is a quadrant?"

    He makes a finger-diamond.

    You slap your forehead.

    He laughs.

    "Bite me, Nitram. How was I supposed to know that? Anyway, I'm not the only one who missed something important. I said I'm your friend. I never said 'just' your friend."

    Now it's his turn to frown confusedly. "Is that an important, distinction, that you made?"

    "Shit yes, Tav, it's so important, you have no fucking idea. In fact, you know what? You really do have no fucking idea. Because trolls think friendship is a disease. Trolls have no clue what friendship is." You pull up a knee and set your chin on it. The playlist you cued up drifts from 'Space Pirate Queen' into 'Surface To Air', and you can tell it's going to be a struggle to stay awake for the rest of this conversation. "And 'brother'. You guys don't get that. Gamzee's always calling everybody brother. Do you even know what a brother is?"

    There's that confused nose-wrinkle. Shit that's cute. "Something to do with, uh, human reproduction? The uh, offspring, of the same genetic donor, right?"

    You give him an exasperated sigh. "Only technically. What it really is, a brother or sister, a sib, is somebody you grew up with, somebody who's your family. Or somebody who feels like family. Somebody you look out for, who looks out for you. You dig?"

    Just when you thought his eyes couldn't get any bigger. "Oh."

    You look away. Some shit, you just can't take in large doses. You scratch at the sore place on your left horn. "So when I tell you you're the little brother I never had, maybe now that makes a little tiny bit of fucking sense out of this thing."

    Out of the corner of your eye you can see him nodding uncertainly.

    "So like when I said it's not -- the pity thing, the pale thing I mean -- like when I'm cool with kinda watching over you and giving you a kick in the ass when you get too down on yourself, and it's okay if you rein me in when I get too full of myself --" You make a jerky little gesture of exasperation. Why do people need this shit explained? It's so uncool. "When I say it's not a romance to me, okay, it's because -- you can't break up with family. Your brother is your brother for life. You don't have to get flowery about it. It just is."

    Goddamn it, did he just sniffle? You can't look.

    Then he catches your hand and pulls it away from your horn where it was still nervous-scratching, and you look by accident, and he's got the biggest smile on you ever saw. "I understand," he says.

    "Yeah?" you say skeptically.

    "Yeah." He gently lets go of your hand. "It's perfect." Then he slaps your wrist lightly as you reach for your sore horn again. "Stop that, you'll just make it worse. Horns heal fast, but not if you keep picking at them."

    You laugh. Demonstration of 'what is a moirail' in under one second, by Tavros Nitram. That was it right there.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Switch pillows.

    Blood is only disturbing when it's outside a body.

    In your dream this is a huge revelation. When blood is where it belongs, isn't it good? Isn't it perfect? Doesn't it sing a beautiful song? You can hear it humming softly, shooshing like the ocean, dancing to the quiet drum of its pump. And that blood pusher's beat, isn't it expressive? Unlike the face, it never lies. A face can be a mask, but your heart doesn't ask your permission to race.

    The colors of blood are lovely in themselves. No longer held secret behind gray skin, stripped of their meaning, nothing but hues now, like a garden of gems. You can feel it, taste it, that dim liquid rainbow, and there's nothing terrible in this because the colors stay where they belong and keep doing their job.

    Your dream is a symphony of sleeping hearts, a tapestry of veins. You feel you know each of these colors personally. And the strongest pattern in the tapestry is red, but not all the red is the same. Four pumps push translucent vermilion. One beats opaque scarlet. Another revelation. It seems discordant, a little, or superfluous, having two different bright reds, but judgement is far away from you right now. You didn't write this symphony. You're only listening.

    The strongest beat is the gold one. It's a little faster than the others. Its lacework is less still. Sometimes its finest branches almost intertwine with the scarlet. This gentle swaying of blood fronds has a meaning. You can almost grasp it. It seems so important. Something you knew once, something good...

    Groping after that elusive cipher, you stray too close to wakefulness, and the whole thing vanishes. Like breaking the surface of water, a mental gasp, a shock of air.

    Sollux's fingers drift through your hair again. You're lying with your head pillowed on his chest. Above you, daylight glows through a sunshade made of a brightly patterned carpet. Were you dreaming about the carpet? Weaving, and trees... no, you've lost it. All you know is that you slept without sopor, had no nightmares, and woke up calm. Finally, an upside to this hybrid-biology thing.

    You raise yourself on your elbow, rubbing one eye, and surprise a huge smile on Captor's face. It's really puzzling, especially when it turns all helpless-wobbly. You scowl at him. "What," you demand. Your voice sounds like rocks scraping together.

    "You're fucking adorable all thleepy and confuthed."

    "Adorabloodthirsty," you correct sternly. It only makes him snicker. "Oh fuck you."

    You sit up, and after a moment he does too. The hilltop is dotted with these little lean-tos full of sleeping people. It's interesting to see who's using who as a pillow.

    Terezi drooling on Dave's stomach is no real surprise, you guess, and it doesn't bother you like it once would've; whatever tentative red flutterings you once had toward her are long gone, and now you're content with her friendship. Even if you weren't, after overhearing Dave declare himself flushed for John and hint at some black leanings toward Sollux, you're pretty damn sure he's only letting her sleep there so he can declare himself 'covered in bitches' when he wakes up.

    Gamzee's lanky limbs are tangled around Tavros's sturdy body like a vine around a tree trunk. Tavros has his face burrowed into the crook of Gamzee's neck, so one of his absurd horns frames Gamzee's face, its point ruffling Gamzee's filthy hair with every breath. Even if those horns are springier than they look, that can't be comfortable. And yet Gamzee is smiling in his sleep.

    Oh, there's something unexpected. How the fuck did John end up sprawled across Equius? At least there's a flowery pink cushion between John's head and the back of Equius's disgusting shirt. That arrangement doesn't even say anything about either of them. John probably just noticed Equius was Nepeta-deprived -- Nepeta's in a pile of Jade, Aradia, Vriska, and about six dozen cushions -- and declared the sweaty creep his 'co-naptime pillowchum' or some shit.

    Sollux yawns. "If you're getting up now, shove the rest of thoshe pillowth over here."

    You take a closer look at him. His two-tone glasses fail to disguise the bags under his eyes, and his yellow skin looks waxy. "Didn't you sleep?"

    He shakes his head slightly, yawning again. He makes a vague grabby gesture at a few cushions scattered at the edge of your patch of shade. You point at the pillow that was under his head. He blinks a few more times. "If I'm going to be by mythelf," he explains slowly, "I want at leatht thome themblanthe of a pile."

    "For fuck's sake, Captor. Did you stay awake the whole time I was sleeping?"

    "I thaid I'd wake you up if thomething happenth," he says stubbornly.

    You hear your blood pusher rev, feel your blood heat up, as clear a sensation as sight or sound. Something of your dream comes back to you, something about how blood doesn't lie, and you know yours is betraying you. Through your thin skin, he can surely see it rushing to your face.

    He watched over you all those hours, despite being exhausted himself. You remember how nervously he hinted yesterday that he might pity you -- no, something different, apparently pity-with-admiration is the new red -- and how often since then you just happened to find yourself holding hands. And of course you're not in the habit of sleeping with your ear pressed to people's chests. But somehow... somehow you didn't quite think he meant it.

    Your throat feels obstructed. You have to swallow a couple times before you can answer, even though there's really only one thing you could possibly say. "Don't be stupid. I'm not going to just wander off and leave you here like some terrible friend who doesn't even care or something. Scootch over and give me that pillow."

    That brilliant smile is back. You avoid looking at it until he's safely resting on your chest.

    Except there turns out to be nothing safe about that at all. You can feel his warm breath through your shirt, and his hand slides across your shoulder and pectoral muscle as he looks for the most comfortable place to rest it. And he hooks his leg over yours, oh God, you know that's necessary for stability and you did the same thing when you were sleeping on him but he really needs to be careful where he puts that.

    "Your horn's digging in," you grumble, and shove lightly at his head until he turns it a bit. Now his breath is even warmer, his nose and lips pressed to your sternum. He hums an amused grumble; you can feel the vibration in your lungs.

    There is nothing you can do now but drape your arm across his back and push your hand into his hair the way he did to you. It feels inevitable, no more controlled than a rockfall. You've never touched anything as soft as Sollux's hair. Your mouth is dry. Your blood pusher is going so fast it's painful.

    "Sollux?" you whisper.

    He doesn't answer. After a few minutes you realize that the small spreading warmth where his mouth touches you is a puddle of drool.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Overthink everything.

    Once your -- panic? anxiety? excitement? -- fades away, this is kind of boring. Nice, but boring. Too warm, too. The half-tent of carpet keeps the sun off, but the day is shaping up hot and there's not much wind. Captor is a living single-block air-volume thermal device. His drool is mixing with your sweat and seeping along the furrow of your chest and stomach, tickling like a line of ants as it goes. Which is a little bit gross.

    Eventually you begin to think of ways to amuse yourself. You pick up his glasses from where he set them, use your mouth to help your hand unfold them -- your other hand's in his hair and it's staying there, that's an axiom of basic physics or something -- and put them on.

    Wow, the carpet looks weird like this. Especially when you close one eye and then the other. Left, right. Left, right.

    Okay, that's giving you a headache. You take them off again.

    Not long after that, other people start to wake up. Gamzee and Tavros first, together; one's waking woke the other. Their stretching and yawning and chattering wakes John, who has a quiet conversation with Equius and then buries the sweat factory in pillows. John shares out some leftover party food, then flies away like a doofy blue balloon. Gamzee and Tavros wander into the woods.

    Jade oozes out of the girl pile, wanders in circles a bit, collects Gamzee and Tavros's abandoned shelter and takes the props out of it. Her efforts to spread the carpet in the shadow of her own shelter wakes the rest of the pile. Whispering, giggling, eating. Eventual dispersal.

    This sort of thing continues as if some power has issued a stage direction. All: in small groups, wake, gather belongings, exeunt.

    No one comes to bother you. Or to laugh at you, for that matter. Apparently it's not even noteworthy that you're lying here together like matesprits. At least, not noteworthy enough for anyone to comment where you can hear it.

    At last your shelter's the only one on the hill. You're alone with your sleeping what-the-hell-even-is-he-now and your racing thoughts.

    You're twitchy with the urge to explore. And with the need to keep tabs on everyone. What are they all up to? Getting in trouble, probably. You could get your crabtop out and troll a few people, give a few orders. Demand status reports. You keep not doing it, though. You hate trying to type with one hand, and that other hand is not coming out of Sollux's hair. Like, ever.

    Your fingertips have found his horns and they're so smooth. They radiate heat. You really should stop stroking them, you know how annoying it is when something brushes your horns, it's loud and it tickles, but -- so smooth.

    When he wakes up, he's going to expect an answer to his confession, isn't he? Or is he? It was such a sideways, halfassed confession. It's just like him to fuck up even something that simple, and of course you're going to have to carry the weight of that conversation because goal-directed behavior is totally beyond him, he always has to play word games and come at things sideways...

    But. He stayed awake the whole time you were sleeping.

    And all that hand-holding. Who started that? Him or you? But he was holding hands with Aradia before. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. No, who are you shitting, it totally meant something. Oh fuck the way he was smiling at you oh fuck this is terrifying.

    He deserves so much better than your bullshit. You're such a fuckup. He knows what a fuckup you are. What's he expecting? What do you even bring to the table? How could he say he admires you? What's to admire? Your spectacular failures? Because those really are epic. You could understand him pitying you for those, but --

    Okay, except, wouldn't he say the same thing? Because he is, honestly, a complete mess. You can't count the number of times you've had to bully him into eating, or harrass him out of his recuperacoon with the sheer incessant annoyance of incoming message chimes. Or shout him out of doing something ridiculously stupid when he's in one of his no-consequences-no-brakes moods. So many times, you've wondered if that pity was romantic. All you could tell yourself was that he made you too angry for that.

    Which was such bullshit. Everything makes you angry. Being mad at Sollux is actually kind of comfortable.

    No, it was his stubbornness. Past you was such a retard for not seeing that. You couldn't pity him because he was so stubborn, you couldn't imagine him really needing you. You played lusus for your own peace of mind. You always felt that if you stopped, he'd manage on his own, and then he'd realize how little use he had for you.

    He shifts against you, grunting softly in his sleep as he hitches himself higher on your shoulder. He scratches his ankle with the toe of his other foot. Then he's drooling again.

    He's so... helpless right now.

    God, this is so confusing. Nothing's changed. Everything's changed. He's still a stubborn asshole. He still probably doesn't actually need you. You still can't think of any coherent reason to truly pity him. But his shoulders are so thin and God, look at him trusting you and what if

    what if you said yes

    what if you said yes Sollux yes please yes and

    oh fuck what if he says he was just kidding you misunderstood he didn't mean it like this he was speaking hypothetically what if you say YES and he says NO?

    You can't breathe.

    Your computer suddenly chimes, and it makes you twitch. Too loud! You de-log it in a hurry and turn the volume down before looking to see who's trolling you.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TC: HeY MoThErFuCkIn bEsT FrIeNd
TC: I HaTe tO BoThEr yOu wHeN YoU'Re aLl uP AnD GeTtInG YoUr cUdDlE On
TC: OnLy tHeRe's tHiS ReAl gOoFy sHiT GoInG DoWn hErE
TC: AnD I GuEsS We cOuLd uSe a lItTlE MoThErFuCkIn aDvIcE uP iN hErE?

    You sigh. Normally you'd give him so much shit for this, but you can't rant properly with one hand. Besides, you're not really sure how to relate to him now. It's bound to get awkward sooner or later.

CG: FINE, WHAT IS IT?
TC: ThErE'S AlL ThEsE CuTe lItTlE FrOgGiE GuYs hAnGiNg aRoUnD aNd ShIt
TC: ThEy'Re BlUe
TC: ThEy TaLk ThE mOsT hIlArIsIlLy MoThErFuCkIn NoNsEnSe MaN, yOu DoN't EvEn KnOw
CG: GAMZEE. WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING EMERGENCY.
TC: WeLl, BrO, tHeY'Re aLl tRyInG To aLl uP AnD MaKe oFf wItH ThE MoThErFuCkIn mIrAcLe mAcHiNe.

    You groan. Brilliant. That's just... awesome. You can't tell him to handle it himself, because what if he goes into rage mode? Tavros could probably commune with the damn things, but you don't make a great first impression by mind-controlling the local population. Besides, who knows how many of them there are.

CG: FINE.
CG: I'LL COME SORT THIS OUT.
CG: WAIT QUIETLY AND DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID.
TC: YoU GoT It, BeSt fRiEnD.

    You log the computer. You consider how best to wake Sollux up. He really hasn't slept enough. He's out cold; he'd probably sleep through you getting up. But you're going to have to leave him all alone up here, and you're sure as hell not going to do that without at least telling him.

    "Captor. Captor, wake up. Sollux." No response. You shake his shoulder gently. Still nothing. Wow, he is really asleep. You could totally kiss him and he wouldn't even -- no. Not going there.

    Well. Maybe on the forehead. That's not creepy, right? Considering the circumstances?

    Sheepishly, you kiss his forehead.

    Right, enough of this bullshit. Kleptofrogs are stealing the alchemiter. No time for romance. Cradling his head and shoulder, you sit up. You resettle him on your lap while you stretch to reach the pillows.

    "Mmuh?" He wipes a hand across his mouth and makes a few smacking noises.

    You look down. He's blinking up at you. Puffy-eyed, bleary, with bright gold splotches on his cheeks and the rest of him vanilla-ice-cream pale, a shiny patch of drool smeared on his chin. His lips are the warm deep citrine of melon flesh. His blue eye is a little more bloodshot than his red eye.

    "I uh." The rest of the words jam up in your throat and choke you as he licks his lips and gives you a sleepy, trusting smile.

    All at once, you realize that if you say yes and he says nevermind, you will actually fucking die.

    So you don't give him a chance to say anything at all. You just curl down and kiss him.

    Oh God, it's awkward, the angle is weird, things don't fit together right, he's going to laugh at you -- no, he's going to be mad, he's going to cancel your friendship and this time he's going to mean it -- but as you start to pull back, his hand fumbles into your hair and pulls you back down.

    He twists his shoulder against your leg, lifts his head and tilts it and suddenly the awkward is gone. Your hands are cradling him and his are pulling you closer. His stupid adorable fangs dig into your lip, but it's good, even when they click together with your fangs it's good. He makes a soft, needy noise like nothing you've ever heard. Your blood pusher pretty much explodes from the preciousness.

    You have no idea how much later you finally release each other. As for how long after that you spend just staring at each other in shy amazement, it's anyone's guess. You're vaguely aware of your computer trying to get your attention, but you can't bring yourself to care.

    Finally, a grin breaks across his face. "Wow, KK. That ith not how I exthpected to wake up."

    You feel a scowl gathering, defense against a rejection that feels inevitable, no matter what reason says. "That was my answer, dumbass." Try as you might, you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. If he asks what question you were answering, you don't even know what to say.

    He sits up on his knees. Still touching you, so that's a good sign. "I'm tho fucking tired, but. God. That wath worth waking up for."

    You glance aside at him. He looks as awkward as you do. You clear your throat. "So you're... I mean... we're still okay?"

    With a warm chuckle, he loops his arms around your neck and rests his forehead on your shoulder. "Yeth, Karkat. We're thtill... ahaha. I gueth I should get uthed to thaying we're thtill matethpritsh."

    Your laugh breaks in the middle as you hug him. "You can't even say the word, you pitiful moron."

    "Bite me, athole," he snickers.

    You haven't lost anything. He's still a snarky jerkass. You don't even know how to be this happy. Fortunately, you have a reason to abscond before you melt into an unrecognizable blob of sap. "I actually woke you up to tell you I can't stay and be your pillow. Apparently frogs are stealing the alchemiter and Gamzee has no fucking clue what to do, as usual."

    He snorts into your shoulder, and before you know it you're both laughing your asses off. Laughing for all the incredible stupid amazing horrible hilarious retarded shit that happened to you in the game, for the relief of being free of it, for the absurdity that is brand-new hilarious retardery being generated fresh in this new world, for the realization that hilarious retardery is neverending. For the fact that you both understand what you're laughing about. That last thing most of all.

Chapter Text

==> John: Explore.

    Flying is harder than usual. Than it was in the game, you mean. How weird is that, that the game has become some kind of 'normal' you measure your experiences by? Anyway, it's not as effortless as it was, but it still feels pretty good. Especially once you get up high enough that the air is cool and dry.

    The forest looks like moss down there. No, it looks like Google Earth. You chuckle ruefully at the thought, and then change the mental subject before you have to think about things like how there's no Earth anymore, or about Terezi getting you killed. You have a lot of really important things to think about. You need to focus on the future. People are counting on you. You need to step up your game.

    For one thing, you need to stop getting distracted by romance shenanigans. It's ridiculous how you can't even have a conversation with Karkat anymore. Even just thinking his name in your head makes your stomach flip-flop. You're not sure whether the solution is to think about him a lot for a while so you get used to the idea of having... feelings... weird feelings about him, or put him out of your mind completely until the urgent survival stuff is squared away. Only talk to him on Pesterchum for a while. That kind of thing.

    Because you suspect the reason he's being so uptight about being the leader instead of co-palhonchos now is because of the weird feelings. Because of your weird feelings. The ones that make you do things like tease him instead of apologize after you accidentally contradict his orders.

    Was it really an accident? You're not sure. Gosh that's unnerving.

    Oh cool, there's a huge river down there. There are flowering meadows all along one side, at the base of a cliff riddled with caves. It looks like a great place for a picnic! Kind of a long walk from where everyone is now, but it's not like you can't alchemize more rocket packs.

    But picnics are not the urgent thing! People need food and shelter. And sanitation is also really important. You learned that from a documentary. You think it had that one Monty Python guy in it. Anyway, it would probably be good to set up some kind of electricity generating doodads, too, so you're not totally reliant on those green power cubes you got from Rose. Because who even knows what those are. It'd suck to find out they're radioactive after you've installed one in every room. Windmills can't be too hard, can they?

    Cutting down trees to make room would kind of be obnoxious. Maybe you should build your little village on that meadow by the river. But it's probably a flood plain. And did trolls even have cities? Maybe they all want to live alone? You only have one alchemiter now, though, so it'd be pretty inconvenient for anyone who --

    "John, wait up!"

    Your stomach gives a weird little flutter when you hear Vriska's voice. It's not the same as the Karkat flutter. There's a lot less distrusting-yourself and a lot more distrusting-Vriska. As you turn and hover, you wonder why that is. You thought you kind of liked her. Didn't you?

    She spirals up on her blue butterfly wings, flapping them so hard they throw dust with every beat. When she finally reaches you, she looks sweaty and annoyed. "Jeez, rude. Not everybody can just wave their hands and float around, you know. Some of us have to work to fly this high."

    "Is something up?" you ask politely.

    "What, I can't just want to hang out with you?"

    There's that flipflop again. It's like half of you just said, Of course you guys should hang out, you're friends, and maybe kind of a little bit dating! and the other half said, She is going to do something freaky, don't let your guard down for a second.

    Oh. Yeah. Pretty much half and half there. Now you get it.

    You laugh sheepishly. "It's weird talking to you now. My alpha timeline memories and my deadself memories of you are totally different."

    "Well, I'm a very complex person, John." She tosses her hair.

    "Yeah. So. Actually, I was trying to get some thinking done..."

    "Me too! Two heads are better than one, come on." She grabs for your arm, and you've pulled away before you realize she was just trying to hook her elbow through yours. You belatedly offer your arm, but she huffs and pretends not to see it. So you begin flying side by side, her wings blasting sparkledust in your face every so often. It's really awkward, but she doesn't seem bothered by it. "We need to brainstorm," she says.

    Somehow, you don't think she's pondering where to put the sewers. "About what?" you ask cautiously.

    She throws you a look like you're silly for not knowing. "About how you're going to put Karkat in his place, of course!"

    "Uhh."

    "He's so ridiculous, going around saying he's the leader of everyone, when it should obviously be you."

    "Funny, I seem to remember you telling me he was such a good leader during your session that you all survived it instead of killing each other off before the endgame."

    "That was different. He might've been a good leader for the game, but he's just embarrassing everyone now. He's still acting like we're all in danger, like this little strutting dictator ordering everyone around."

    "For all we know, he could be right, we might still be in danger."

    "There can't possibly be anything on this planet we can't handle."

    You just stare at her for a moment. Of course there can. None of you know what lives here or whether it's hostile. Or whether there are nonliving threats, for that matter. Just a cold winter coming on early could kill you all. And yet she sounds absolutely convinced that what she said was an obvious fact.

    Shaking your head, you decide to stick to one subject at a time. "I don't even know what you think Karkat's 'place' is, let alone why I should put him in it."

    "Please," she drawls. Probably counting out eight E's in her mind. "He didn't even make god tier!" She throws you a sideways smirk. "Admit it, you want to beat him at his own game. It's incredibly obvious how much you hate each other, but he could always hate you more, right? Being deposed would really chafe his ass." She laughs at the thought.

    "What? I don't hate him!"

    She rolls her eyes.

    "I don't! I like him! And anyway, it shouldn't matter! We should be doing what's best for all of us."

    "Oh, John, John." She heaves a theatrical sigh. "I thought you had more ambition than this. I thought you were a winner."

    Suddenly, there's ice water running through your veins. Because you remember another boy she liked, a boy who wasn't ambitious enough for her. Another boy she tried to make stronger. She thought she was doing him a favor too. That is really not a roller coaster you have time to ride.

    You take a deep breath and project firmness and certainty for all you're worth. "I'm flattered that you want me to be your leader, Vriska, but the truth is it's going to take both me and Karkat to lead this group. We're good at different things."

    She gives you a sly smile. "Are you sure you're not just saying that so you won't have to admit your caliginous feelings for him? You shouldn't be acting so weaky-weak, he's going to lose interest."

    "What -- that's -- that has nothing to do with it. No."

    She goes tsk and wags a finger in your face. It's super annoying. You smack it away. She rears back in surprise, and so do you.

    "Oh, wow. Sorry, Vriska. I have no idea where that came from."

    She snorts, exasperated. "What, you thought we were all just humans with horns now? Don't tell me you never got angry before!"

    "No, but I never just hit out like that. I'm sorry."

    "Stop apologizing, dummy! You're finally starting to act a little bit stronger. It's a good thing!"

    "No. It's just immature." You shake your head slightly. You're irritated and confused and this conversation is making things worse. "Look, I just... can't talk right now. I have to think about making our life here better, and I think your advice will maybe make it worse. So I'm sorry, but I'm going to be really rude and ditch you now."

    Before she can say anything, you grab as much wind as you can, shove with all you've got, and take off like a rocket. You hear her yelp. Suddenly afraid you broke her wings or something, you glance back and see that she's been knocked into a spin. She regains control, though. She shouts something after you, but you can't hear it over the roar of the wind.

    You're up among the clouds before you can gather your thoughts again. You don't even really know why you feel so guilty for leaving her behind. Between the memory of taking her on a sorta-almost-date through your conjoined dreambubbles, and the memory of her confessing to one murder she felt bad for and thousands she didn't care about -- oh yeah, and that one she forgot, like it was just a regular day, how sociopathic do you even have to be -- you don't know if you should feel like a bad boy who's mean to girls, or like you just had a narrow escape.

    Jesus dick, as Dave would say. After that, figuring out what's up with Karkat sounds like a relief.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Sort this out.

    Getting Sollux down the hill is enough of a chore that by the time you reach the clearing where you all gathered yesterday, you are fresh out of sap and giggles. Which is good, because a leader should not be a sappy giggler.

    A leader should probably not give people piggyback rides either, but there was no way Sollux was climbing down by himself.

    You approach slowly while you study the situation in the clearing. You'd expected to have to chase the thieving creatures down, but they don't look to have moved the alchemiter an inch. They're swarming all over it, dozens of them, with logs and ropes and things, building some kind of rickety scaffolding around the machine. A ring of frogs with flint spears stands guard. They look as fierce as waist-high blue frogs can look. Which frankly isn't very.

    Sollux is snickering. "Letsh jutht let them do their little craft project," he suggests. "I wanna thee if they can move it."

    "It is pretty hilarious," you agree skeptically. "But we kind of need to use the fucking thing."

    Gamzee, Tavros, and Jade are sitting together on a carpet, watching. Eating crackers and making comments. You approach them, arm around Sollux's waist as if he needs help to walk. Which he doesn't. He's just sleepy, not weak. He's not pulling away, though, and he's holding onto your shoulder too. The knowing grins everyone gives you when they see that makes your face feel warm, but you pretend not to see. You are a leader, not a mushy cuddleface. All business, that's Vantas.

    "I don't suppose anyone actually tried, oh, I don't know, telling them to fuck off?" you demand.

    "Well," Tavros says uncertainly, "not in, uh, so many words..."

    "I asked 'em what they're all up and doing," Gamzee shrugs. "They told all motherfuckin manner of things at me, but don't ask me all what they were meaning, it didn't make one bit of sense. They're goofy little motherfuckers. We didn't wanna hurt the little guys, so we're just getting our spectate on."

    You study him, unnerved by the way he meets your eyes. You've never heard him so lucid before. But then, you've only known him sopored or insane. Could the translation have cured him of both his addiction and his bloodline's madness? Too good to be true. You're going to have to watch him even more carefully now.

    Sollux knuckles you lightly in the side. "You have the rugth," he reminds you.

    "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." You spread the carpets from your shelter out for him. He dumps the pillows out of his own sylladex, flops down, and burrows into them. You watch with a dazed smile as he gathers pillows around himself, plucking and patting them with his long, clever fingers, arranging them just so...

    "Congratulations, best friend," Gamzee laughs.

    You look up sharply. "Don't fucking start."

    Jade giggles. "Good luck keeping it to yourself if you're going to be so obvious!" Before you can say anything -- or rather, sputter like an idiot, because you're reluctant to be too nasty after how she tore you up the last time you flipped out on her -- she changes the subject. "They may not look very dangerous, but they'll try to poke you if you get too close. I tried to go alchemize a sandwich, and if I didn't still have some of my space powers I'd need a really big band-aid right now."

    "They attacked you?"

    "They tried, anyway." She waves a hand to indicate it was no big deal. "I'm just saying. If you try to walk past the spear frogs -- well, don't, I guess!"

    "But they talk?" you confirm. "Fine. I guess it's my job to explain the concept of private property."

    Sollux gives a muffled snicker from beneath his pillows. "Offer them shoeth. They love shoeth."

    "Silence, idiot," you grumble, and toe him in the ankle, which only makes him giggle worse. You can feel the smug smiles of the other three burning your back as you march toward the busy frogs.

    Sure enough, the tiny flint spearpoints follow your approach, aiming at your stomach. You stop a step closer than strictly prudent; you're here to intimidate, not negotiate. Besides, unless they're faster than Sgrub's level bosses, you can dodge them at point blank range. You don't even have to deploy your weapons to feel secure. It's still a bit unsettling, but that's because of the responsibility weighing your shoulders. What you do here will determine your future relations with the indigenous lifeforms of your new home.

    Will you conquer them, in the time-honored troll fashion? Make pets of them the way the humans did with their worlds' consorts? Have Tavros bend their minds? Or exterminate them like imps?

    "Who's in charge here?" you demand.

    Their bulbous eyes swivel. A few spearpoints quiver. The one nearest you speaks in a sort of gravelly, bubbling monotone: "Missing tonal information query." After a moment it adds, "Implied request supply missing tonal information."

    Your eyebrows climb. "What?"

    The frog repeats itself word for word. You are no more enlightened than before.

    You turn around to look an incredulous demand at your friends. Tavros and Jade shrug; Gamzee is now flat on his back giggling at the sky. And the bits of Sollux sticking out of the pillow pile are adorable, but not informative. You turn back to the frogs and give them a dangerous scowl. "Bring me your leader," you snap. "That's an order."

    Again the frogs look at each other. One says, "Fetching fat one probably not indicated due to time considerations query implied request for confirmation."

    Its neighbor replies, "Confirmation. Propose project foreman is sufficient authority semi-query."

    By this time you're not sure whether you want to behead them all in a frenzy of frustration, or carry one around and make it talk like that to everyone so you can all have a laugh. "All manner of motherfuckin things," you muse to yourself. "For once Gamzee called it."

    "General interrogative," says the nearest frog, and prods you gingerly with its spear.

    You grab the weapon just behind the point and snap the stick. "Quit trying to steal our fucking alchemiter and bring me your fucking leader," you snarl. Two seconds later, you're entirely surrounded by little flint spears, a dozen or so glossy blank eyes glaring up at you.

    You throw your friends a glare. At least Jade looks a little bit worried, even if Tavros just looks like he always does and Gamzee is... Gamzee. "Obviously, what we have here," you explain to them, "is a failure to communicate."

    For some reason that makes Jade squeal and fall over giggling.

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Reconcile.

    You guess you shouldn't be surprised when crackling vines of blue and red light twine around the frogs' spears, but you still whirl in surprise. Sollux is sitting up in his pillow nest. His waxy-pale face is beaded with sweat, but he still manages something like a grin as he snaps all the spears at once.

    "I thought you were asleep," you say mildly. Maybe you should be mad at him for 'rescuing' you, but you're pretty sure he knows you weren't in any actual danger.

    "Like I could thleep through all the noithe you're making," he drawls. He flops back down.

    You turn to the frogs, which back away from your glare, dropping their now-pointless sticks. "Right. Now we're going to talk about how that alchimeter is ours, not yours."

    "Missing tonal information query query query," one of the frogs says. It throws up its little suckerpad hands as if in fright, but its buggy face is expressionless and its voice is still a monotone.

    "Hey," Jade says thoughtfully. She strolls over to join you. "I just thought of something."

    The builder frogs have stopped work, and now the whole population is clustered between you and the alchemiter. It's hard to say whether they're acting aggressive or scared, desperate or arrogant; their froggy faces all look the same.

    "I don't want to start out by making enemies here," you grumble, "but these thieving little shits aren't giving me much of a choice."

    "No, wait," Jade murmurs. She steps forward a bit. "Inquiry, um, as to whether you're aware that device belongs to us. Query. Polite curiosity."

    The frogs look at each other, back and forth, blinking their bulbous eyes. Then one steps forward and draws itself up to its full height, for all the good that does. Its orange tongue flicks out and licks one of its eyeballs. "Deep regret," it grates. "Confirmation. Futile apology. Insistance that our survival depends on obtaining said device. Unhopeful request that you forbear from reclaiming it. Further futile apology."

    "Aha!" Jade turns to you with a triumphant smile. "Karkat, they don't have facial expressions! Or vocal tones or body language!"

    You groan at how obvious the answer seems now that it's been explained to you. "How did I not pick that up? It's like text."

    "Right, and they're saying their smileys out loud!"

    "Well, you're the smiley queen. Give 'em what for." You turn on your heel and stalk back to the others. You sit down on Sollux's carpet and lean back on his pillows to watch Jade work.

    He lifts up one of the pillows that shades his face and gives you a scowl from underneath it. "Get off, KK, you're heavy."

    "Nope. You're my chair now. Get used to it."

    "Fine, jutht move tho you're not on my ribth." He shoves at you until you shift over a few inches. "There. I like breathing. I'd like to go on doing it."

    "Oxygen," you agree. "It's what's for breakfast."

    Sollux snickers. You feel a couple of his fingers hook into your back pocket. You glare at Tavros until he stops beaming at you. Your glare as no effect on Gamzee, though.

    "Hey, best friend," he says dreamily.

    "What."

    "Ain't no good time to up and tell you this, so I'm just gonna go ahead and motherfuckin say it, aright?"

    A chill runs over you. You pretend deep interest in watching Jade chatter with frogs. "I don't suppose there's any way I can persuade you not to pollute the air with further epic idiocy, so I guess you might as --"

    "I'm glad you did it, best friend."

    Your eyes snap to meet his. He's unreadable. You feel sick. "What. What are you."

    "You know what, brother," he smiles. Serene. "I know where your heart was at. Somebody had to, and I'm the gladdest motherfucker that it was all up and being you. Hey, and look at us all alive and fucking hanging out and kicking it together and shit! So don't you go getting down on yourself over it."

    There's a thickness climbing up your throat, and swallowing doesn't fix it. You jerk your gaze away again. "You either," you snap.

    Tavros makes a soft, surprised noise. Sollux's hand leaves your pocket and finds your hand, fingers sliding between yours. Gamzee clears his throat. "Well, I ain't all sure that's the same --"

    "Shut up. That's an order from your leader. And also I'm saying it as your best friend, okay?" One more time, you force yourself to look at him. You've never known such a gigantic mess as Gamzee, and it's never been hard to pity him, but talking to him is a different task entirely. Still... you owe him this. "I should've paid more attention. In retrospect, it was obvious you were heading for a breakdown. It was my fault as much as yours. Nepeta had her say, and it looks like Equius forgives you, even if it's just because of his creepy bloodist thing. So I'm ordering you not to wallow in guilt over it or any other useless bullshit like that. We have more important things to do."

    The grin that breaks over his face is kind of terrifying, and you let out an embarrassing little yelp as he pops up and flings his arms around your neck. But you loop your free arm around his shoulders and pat his filthy head.

    "We need to alchemize you an ablution trap immediately," you grumble. "Priority fucking one. What the hell have you been rolling in? No group hugs," you add as Tavros piles on as well. "That is not a thing we do. Goddamnit Captor! Nitram, no, fuck! Stop it, all of you!"

    "Oh my God, you guys are so cute!" Jade says, and claps her hands. Of course now is the time when she would be done with her frog-talking.

    You muscle free of the mortifying nest of hugs and put your business face on. "I can't help noticing they're still building their -- thing -- whatever the hell they're doing."

    "But I did get them to explain it." She sinks down crosslegged and grabs a cracker. She goes on with her mouth full. "They know it's ours, but they say they need it to survive."

    "Quit spraying crumbs on me!"

    "Haha, sorry! Anyway, I pointed out that they've survived just fine without it up until now. They said they need to make lots of weapons, or else the enemy will wipe them out. And I was like, what enemy? And they were like --" Shrug. "The enemy! Like there's only one enemy. I asked if the enemy was other frogs like them. They said no, the enemy eats frogs like them."

    "Yeah, well, I'm about to start considering whether roast frog might be tasty myself. Can we get to the part where you explain why they're still trying to steal the damn thing? Can't they see how outclassed they are?"

    "Well..." Jade's smile turns uneasy. "They said the enemy eats frogs... and trees. And any other living thing it can catch. And will eat us too. They're not afraid of us. Not even Sollux's zappies. Their enemy is scarier."

    You guess this feeling is what people mean by your heart sinking, but it's not all that bad. It's like something settling into place. It's almost like relaxing. Of course this isn't paradise. Of course there's going to be war and danger. Now you finally feel like you belong here.

    "Tell 'em to get the fuck off our alchemiter and we'll protect them. Tell 'em if they don't get off it, we won't protect them, and also I'm going to get angry, which they will not fucking enjoy. And then I'd like a sandwich too, thank you."

    Jade's happy smile is back. "I knew you'd say that!" For a moment you're afraid she's going to reignite the group hug, but she offers a fistbump instead, which you grudgingly return. She whirls and jogs off toward where the frogs have been nervously waiting.

    Actually, it's hard to tell if they're nervous. But there's a lot of eye-licking going on.

    Tavros says sadly, "I was hoping we wouldn't ever have to fight again."

    "I wasn't," you grin fiercely. "I'm finally starting to like this place."

Chapter Text

==> John: Miscalculate.

    Eventually, gathering enough air to breathe at this altitude is too much of a chore, and you let yourself sink below the cloud cover, miles from where you went in. You're soaking wet and freezing. You can't see Vriska anymore; in fact, you can barely make out the valley of little rounded mountains behind you.

    Even below the clouds, you can see the curvature of the planet. It's so beautifully green everywhere, untouched wilderness from horizon to horizon. Far ahead, there's a shine that has to be a huge body of water. You cruise toward it while you ponder your myriad problems.

    You grin a little as you wonder whether, if you listed them, there would be precisely ninety-nine. Certainly a spiderbitch is one. The breeze is cold on your teeth.

    Your thoughts keep returning to Karkat. It looks like you're going to have to think about him after all, because trying to put him out of your mind is apparently futile. Comforting as it would be to pretend you don't have these weird feelings, you just can't anymore. Every time you see him your body goes haywire and your mind shuts down. Your heart races, you feel sweaty and jittery, you say stupid stuff, you find yourself stumbling toward him like a zombie out for brains. You try, for a few moments, to ask yourself why, to throw up your hands and declare the situation unknowably bizarre, pathological, mysterious -- but that's bullshit and you know it.

    Your troll half is into guys, has a ginormous crush on Karkat, thinks fighting is a great way to express it, and will not shut up about it. That's all there is to it.

    Now you really wish you'd paid more attention to all that quadrant stuff, because it's really looking like that applies to you now. Is this what a hate crush feels like? But you don't hate Karkat. That's not denial. You know you don't hate him. You like him. He's your friend, you want to hang out with him and talk about stupid stuff and make him laugh. If you couldn't be friends with him anymore you might cry or something, it'd really really suck!

    But. Also. You want very badly to punch him in the face. The thought makes you blush like you used to blush when you thought about kissing girls. How do you even deal with something like that?

    Uh-oh. What if you're totally gay? That would be horrible! You've seen gays on TV and it looks like such a boring way to be. They're snarky and they like to shop and they never have adventures. Quick, think about kissing girls! Like... Rose, you were supposed to pair up with Rose on Karkat's shipping chart... ugh, but she's like your sister. It would be so weird. And Jade kind of is your sister.

    Vriska... is really cool and exciting. Okay. You think about kissing her. It makes you nervous. In your imagination, she bites you. Then she steals your wallet modus.

    Fine, there are other girls. Dave kind of likes Terezi, right? She's even more bitey than Vriska, though, and she cackles. Uhmmm. Kanaya. Gosh, Kanaya is so pretty. And elegant! You can't really visualize yourself kissing her, but you can totally imagine ballroom dancing with her. You would be wearing a tux and everything! Uh-oh, gays on TV like to dress up and dance. This is terrible!

    Okay. Okay. Not done yet. How about... Aradia?

    To your relief and delight, you feel your ears heat up. Gosh, yes, she's really cute, and she's intense like Karkat, and --

    You facepalm with both hands, tumbling a few hundred feet before you regain control of the wind. Great. So it's nice that you don't have to figure out how to be fabulous, but the only girl you can have embarrassing thoughts about, you just like her because the way she stares people down makes you think of the guy you're crushing on. What would Dad say?

    Ugh, and there's another bad train of thought. Isn't there anything you can actually figure out, instead of just making yourself more and more confused?

    Sighing, you level out and pick up speed. The gleaming water is filling the forward horizon now. Definitely the ocean. The water trolls will be happy to know about that. You should go scout it for them.

    Maybe you could just try to talk this out with Karkat. He'll kick up a fuss at first, because he just kind of has to do that every time, but he does usually calm down and make sense after a while. You should let him know that his friendship is really important to you. That whatever this hormonal crap is, you can work through it. You don't believe he hates you. You'll never hate him. That's the truth.

    And that means... well, you guess it means you need to get over your crush. Because if you're not in the hate-love corner, you're in competition with Sollux, who has obviously claimed the love-love corner, and you can't see yourself trying to break them up. When you woke up this morning and saw them cuddled up together, all you could think was 'awww'. You weren't even jealous.

    You don't want to cuddle Karkat. You want to have friendly fights with him. And like... tussle. Tussle is a good word. And tease each other. And maybe get a few bruises and scrapes, but you want to laugh about them afterwards.

    And then make out until your lips swell up.

    Dammit.

    What's that brown haze in the distance? A desert? Kind of weird for forest to suddenly give way to desert like that. It's too far away for you to make a coherent guess what you're looking at yet. There's a brown streak in the ocean too, now that you're looking at that area. You angle to your left, trying to get the sun's glare out of the way. The clouds look kind of strange in that direction, too. Low and thick, and sort of orangey-tinted, as if lit by fires.

    There must've been a forest fire! That makes sense. Sort of. The destruction looks disturbingly complete, though. You can't make out details yet, but it doesn't look like there are black burned trees standing in the brown area. And why would the ocean be muddy? Was there a tsunami? You fly lower, looking for an explanation.

    You hear a sharp wzzt! noise, and something knocks into you.

    You twirl, trying to see what it was. It's only after a second or two, when you try to straighten out in preparation for a climb in altitude, that you feel the pain. You look down.

    The arrow is as thick as your thumb, and passes straight through your body just above your left hip. The feathers are gray and brown, a little ragged. You can see a muddy thumbprint on the shaft below the fletching. The archer had dirty hands. Whatever his hands were dirty with, it's in your bloodstream now.

    Spots are sparking in the corners of your vision. Your ears are ringing. You wish you didn't know this feeling so well. You're about to pass out, and whoever shot you down will find you and finish the job. You can't let that happen. You gather your will and your breath, grit your teeth, and take off with all the speed you can muster.

    You can't think properly. You're not panicking, really, it's just that your mind has gone very linear. You're about to be helpless, so you need to get to someone you trust. You can't stop to take out your computer. The more miles you can put between you and whoever shot you, the more likely you'll survive passing out, and the less distance your friends will have to cover to reach you.

    Just one more mile.

    Just past that swamp.

    Just over that river.

    If you can just reach that hill.

    It's getting harder and harder to stay aloft. Blood is running down your leg, and it tickles. The pain in your side makes you feel sick, and every so often your stomach heaves, but before you can actually vomit the arrow fireballs agony all up and down your body and you freeze up. You're having little blackouts now, getting disoriented. Twigs grab at your ankles. You can't keep any kind of altitude anymore.

    You sink to the ground. You have to use the breeze to prop yourself against a tree, because your legs won't hold you. At last you get out your cosbymuffs. The holographic screen gives you a headache. Your ears are ringing so bad. You're starting to suspect the arrow was poisoned. Well, it's not like there's anything you can do about that, so... now... you just need help. Just... help.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

EB: hi davei gotshot co,e hrlpokay b=ring jadre top help find helpyou findme
EB: plese
EB: haha i frrl so stpidgffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Ride to the rescue like the Lone Fucking Ranger.

    A shadow falls over you, and a cheerful voice says, "What are you doing?"

    You turn, shading your eyes, and immediately regret it. "Getting a sunburn," you answer as you turn back to your task. "And going blind. There's a sad shortage of blind guys around since the translation and I figured I'd do y'all a favor and pick up the slack. Save you the trouble of going shithive maggots on each other again with like, wands and shit."

    With a hum of wings, Aradia zoops around to where you can see her without risking Terezification. "Do humans say 'shithive maggots'?"

    "Everyone who's heard Karkat spit that one is doomed to say it at least once. His vocabulary is like troll tuberculosis. You think you're over it and then suddenly, bam! You're coughing up hemorrhagic gouts of nooksniffing grubfuck."

    She laughs brightly. "Okay, if you say so. Would you like some help?"

    "Don't care. Ow," you add as you pinch a finger between two stones.

    She gestures like she's conducting an orchestra. A rock you thought you'd need a lever to move pops off the top of the mountain like a champagne cork, whizzes overhead, and settles gently onto an open stretch of hilltop.

    "Dude," you say, impressed.

    "I can't tell where you wanted it. What are we building?"

    Straightening up and stretching your sore back, you contemplate the rock pile. You're not really sure why you started taking it apart. Boredom, mostly. Waiting for Bro could be a long-term thing, and there's nothing on the internet but troll chatter. "Guess I'm just clearing the ground for now. Getting down to the solid stuff. Then, who knows. This'd be a great place for a radio tower."

    Aradia tilts her head. "What's that?"

    "What? You don't know what a radio tower is?"

    "No. Is it something that radiates?"

    "Oh man. You poor aliens, too technologically advanced to know the beauty of radio. Its neverending staticky serenade. The awkward, low-budget commercials. The stale, corporate-defined playlists. Wow, you are so missing out." You dust your hands off and heft another squarish block of limestone. "Help me disassemble this rockpile and I'll tell you all about it."

    "Can we pretend this is an archaeological dig?"

    "Sister, you can call me Short Round if it'll help focus your tractor beam."

    "You're on." With a delicate waggle of her fingers, she plucks another boulder off the pile, and the dig is underway.

    The two of you settle easily into work and chatter. It's kind of surprising how well you get along. Not that you disliked her before, but in the dreambubbles she was always on a mission, and her Socratic method frankly irritated the shit out of you. She could've just told you things instead of trying to lead you into realizing them yourself. Now, though, when you're not discussing anything important, you can both be as indirect as you want and it's not a problem. You're pretty sure you'll end up being actual friends if this keeps up.

    Plus, you're both rocking the chrono-powers. Totally time bros.

    When Egbert pings you, you call a break and climb down off the pile. Your stack of size-sorted blocks is tall enough to provide a much-needed patch of shade, so you plop down in that to check the message.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

EB: hi davei gotshot co,e hrlpokay b=ring jadre top help find helpyou findme
EB: plese
EB: haha i frrl so stpidgffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

-- ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum --

    A cold, reeling sensation rocks through you. Aradia kneels beside you and leans in as if she might be able to see what's on your iShades. "What's wrong?" she asks.

    "Don't know yet." Your fingers shake as you stab at the virtual keyboard.

TG: egbert this better be a fucking joke
TG: what do you mean you got shot
TG: john jesus christ

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: jade can you still teleport
TG: dont fuck around this is an emergency
TG: jade
TG: jade
TG: goddammit gonna keep hammering enter until you answer
TG: jade
TG: jade
TG: jade
TG: jade
TG: jade
TG: jade
GG: jeez, dave!!! what's going on?
TG: answer the damn question jesus
GG: yes! why?
TG: okay come get me and take me to john
GG: what happened? D8
TG: RIGHT FUCKING NOW JADE

    There's an infuriating pause, during which your mind's eye bleeds with images of John suffering, John dead. You expect Jade to appear any second, all green-light static and shockwave of displaced air. But instead your Pesterchum chimes again.

GG: i can only go short distances now. :(
GG: and you and john are both miles away from me.
GG: dave, please tell me what's happening!

    "Shit. Shit shit shit." You slam your fist against your knee.

    "What's going on?" Aradia sounds genuinely concerned.

    You look up at her, an idea dawning. "You can carry me, right? I mean, fly with me? Long distances? Very fast?"

    "You're lighter than the rocks I was moving. So, I guess I could go at my normal top speed with you. Or I could throw you," she adds with a tentative smile, a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

TG: which direction is john from me
GG: a little south of east, about three and a half miles?
TG: okay tell me when im there

    It's still morning, so the sun's in the eastern half of the sky; you don't know if this moon has seasons, but based on where the gas giant rose and set last night as compared to the sun's path today, its axial tilt is just about nil right now, so east southeast would be about... there.

    "We need to head that way. Answers later," you snap, scrambling to your feet, as she opens her mouth to ask again. "Right now I gotta ride to the rescue like the Lone Fucking Ranger. Come on, flygirl, go go go!"

    Your stomach flips as she yanks you off the ground faster than a roller coaster, and suddenly you're blasting across the landscape at a pretty decent clip. You'll be there in a handful of minutes. You just hope that's soon enough. Actually, you hope John is playing a stupid prank. You'll kick his ass for making you freak out, but that's better than the alternative.

    "I should warn you," you shout over the whistling of the wind, "I may have to pull time shenanigans. If I'm too late to save him, I'm going back until I'm not. Which means doomed Daves. If you wanna make sure there's no doomed Aradias, you might want to hang back so you don't find out anything that'll get you paradoxed."

    "Too late to save who?"

    "Egbert. He messaged me saying he got shot. I hope to fuck it's a joke."

    "Oh. No wonder you're flipping out."

    You kind of feel like it's your duty to demand what she means by that, as you are obviously Mister Calm -- even though that's total bullshit and will only make you look stupid as well as panicky -- but Jade messages you.

GG: slow down and veer left a little. you're almost there.

    You relay the message to Aradia, and she starts to take you down.

Chapter Text

==> Dave: Don't lose him again.

    You haven't forgotten that John being shot means someone did the shooting. You need to go the rest of the distance on foot, and you really should do it slowly and cautiously. If you get shot too, John's doomed for sure. You don't need to stage a remake of 'Blackhawk Down' here.

    But fuck that. A moving target's harder to hit, right? You leave Aradia behind and flashstep the last quarter mile so fast your wind rips leaves off the trees, and you're followed by a series of tiny dust devils.

    When you see him, the smart thing to do would be to make a circuit around his location, confirm that there's no one lying in ambush. The part of your mind that's telling you that is way too slow, though, and it sort of gives up right around the time that you're cradling John's head, trying to find a pulse in his pale, pale neck.

    His skin is clammy and wax-white. There's foam on his lavender lips, and his eyes are showing a thin blind crescent under slack lids. Not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again, not again --

    You don't realize Aradia has arrived until she says, "But he's god tier. Shouldn't he be immortal now?" She bends over the both of you, reaches to brush John's ashen brow with her ruddy fingers. "I can't imagine his death was just. But maybe it was heroic."

    "I'm going to have to go back." Your voice sounds like sand sliding down a dune, like an old man doing the old soft-shoe. "Sorry. You shouldn't have seen this. We're the doomed timeline now."

    She makes an unhappy little noise. "I don't know if I'm okay with that."

    "Tough titty, sister. I've died for him before and I'll do it again as many times as it takes. Don't get in my way." The last word is a laryngitis hiss, so you leave it there. John's glasses are crooked. You straighten them gently, and brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead, already calculating how you'll get around Aradia if she tries to cockblock your timejump.

    The body in your hands gives a slight shudder. Eyelashes twitch. John makes the faintest of gurgling noises, and a few more bubbles of foam drip from his mouth.

    "Ohygodyesthankyou," you blurt as you surge into motion, laying him back down, tilting his chin up, clearing his airway in preparation for CPR.

    Suddenly, there are red clock faces spinning all around and through John's body. He goes silent again. You look up at Aradia, anguished at his stillness. "What -- what just --"

    She's frowning in concentration, sweat beading on her face. After a few more moments she relaxes with a sigh. "I can't rewind him. I can only freeze him."

    All the air goes out of you. "Jesus. Right. Okay. I need to get my shit together. Gotta think."

    "Yes, you apparently forgot a kiss won't revive him now that we don't have dreamselves. Nor would it have any effect on the living, so trying it just now --"

    "I was gonna do CPR."

    "What's that?" she asks absently as she stands up and surveys the area. Like you should've been doing.

    "It's. Uh. Like clearing his lungs and stuff." You scoop him into your arms, arrow and all. His head lolls horribly. "If he's time-frozen, shouldn't he be stiff? No pun intended. Because fuck that would be a horrible joke to make right now."

    "It's complicated. If I froze him completely, we couldn't move him. This in-between thing is a little tricky, so I don't think I'll talk any more now." She gestures, and all three of you rise into the air.

    As you skim above the treetops, you tuck John's poor floppy head under your chin and hang on to him for all you're worth. Not that he'd fall if you dropped him. Aradia's got you both. But you don't think you could let go if you tried. You can't forget the endless time when you outlived him, day after tedious day, knowing his broken body was rotting where you didn't dare go. How the only thing that kept you going was your belief that you could save him. And how it felt when you just couldn't take it anymore, when you had to go back even though there was more you could do in the game. Because your sanity was beginning to erode.

    And then he had the blind douchitude to call your blithely ignorant younger self the 'real' Dave. You were so mad you actually showed it. Now you can only smile a little at the memory. You're both those Daves now, and anyway, you'd forgive him for worse.

    There's the clearing below you. What in the hell is that crap all over the alchemiter? Are those... frogs? Whatever, they better not get anywhere near John, that's all you can say.

    Jade and Karkat rush up as soon as you land. "Shit. Is he --" Karkat demands, while Jade claps her hands to her mouth and whimpers, "Oh no!"

    "He's time-frozen," you explain. "He's not dead. But he's in really bad shape." You arrange him with infinite care just as you found him, on his side so the arrow doesn't touch the ground and whatever's in his lungs can drain. "Don't blow Aradia's concentration, apparently it's kind of tricky."

    Karkat touches a fingertip gingerly to the arrow shaft where it emerges from John's back. He slowly raises his eyes to meet yours. "As soon as Egbert's safe," he says, his voice tight and gravelly with rage, "you and I are going to find the shitstain who shot this arrow, and we're going to murder him."

    You nod. If you have to share John with anyone, you're glad it's Karkat. "Hell. Fucking. Yes."

Chapter Text

==> Karkat: Take command.

    There was a time when this would've sent you into an emotional tailspin. Before death and danger became commonplace; before you lost so many friends in so many bloody ways. Before the whiny little wiggler in the back of your psyche quit screaming This isn't fair! and I want my lusus! and got on board with reality. That was then. This is now.

    Now you only waste two seconds staring at the foam on Egbert's blue lips and the huge ugly arrow skewering his body -- and five seconds vowing vengeance, which is as much for Strider's benefit as yours -- before you pull yourself together and get leading.

    "Who has healing items? I need them all. Right here." You thump the ground beside John. As the others start spilling their sylladices, you beckon to Jade. "Get everyone here. If anyone doesn't answer, take someone with good mobility and go find them. I want the whole crew where I can see them."

    "Shouldn't I alchemize more potions? I don't know if the frogs will let anyone but me --"

    "Nitram can do that. You're the Witch of Space, no one else can find people who are offline except Sollux and he's spent." You turn away from her before she can argue further. That's how you keep the ball spinning; talk so fast no one can jump your train. You pick on Tavros next; he's looking nervous about approaching the frogs. "If they won't move, you have my permission to mind-control them. I don't care if they don't like it, they've had fair warning."

    "How much --?"

    "As much as you can. It's watered down and we don't have time to work out a more concentrated formula."

    Gamzee's enormous hand settles on your shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. It's calming, but calm isn't what you need right now. "How can I get my useful on, best friend?"

    "Help Nitram. If he has to commune with the frogs, you'll have to do the alchemizing."

    "You got it, brother." He curls down to drop a kiss between your horns before loping away. You hope no one else heard him whisper, You're doing fine.

    You turn back to Strider, about to give him his orders, but pause. He's got a first aid kit out and is wiping his hands with something that smells like alcohol. He tosses a little plastic packet to you. "Clean your hands good before you touch him," he says as he sorts items out of the kit.

    "Strider."

    "I've got plenty of experience stitching up cuts and shit. Me and Bro got nicked up in practice all the time, and it's not like we could go to the ER."

    "I don't know what that means. Stop messing with that."

    "No insurance. Plus they'd think child abuse, because God forbid the sword saint of Texas train up a mini-Musashi of his own --"

    "Strider, shut up."

    "I don't know how to deal with the foamy mouth thing, but at least I can patch up his side. I guess we break the arrow and pull it through? That's how they do it in the movies --"

    So much for words. You slam the kit shut on his hand and lean on it, face shoved right up in his. That silences him long enough for you to growl, "Teeth together, ears open. You are not the medic. You are the only halfway decent soldier we have and I'm not wasting you on nurse duty."

    He meets your eyes for a long moment. Even through the shield of his shades, you can see the defiance flare and fade. He nods tightly. You let him have his hand back.

    "We know jack squat about who or what shot Egbert, but I'd be surprised if it doesn't have something to do with the Enemy the frogs were talking about. We have to prepare for a full-on assault by monsters big enough to eat trees. As people get here, take whoever you think you can rely on and set up a perimeter. Heavy hitters. Equius, Eridan, Nepeta."

    "Jade's our best shooter."

    "Don't distract her before everyone's here. Her space powers are more useful than her rifle right now."

    He sits back on his heels, hands on his knees. Takes a deep breath, eyes lingering on John's still, pale face. Then he looks to you and nods. "Anything else, Mon Capitan?"

    Your eyes narrow slightly as you try to figure out if he's taking the piss.

    "Not kidding," he clarifies. "I got it. I can remember a lot more instructions than you just gave me, and my Bro trained me in small unit tactics as much as anyone could in circumstances like ours. Don't get me wrong, i'm not your biggest fan all of a sudden, but you're rocking the command post right now, and like you said, I'm your only soldier. Everybody else wants to be the special snowflake hero of their own magical girl anime. I'm game to take orders. So lay 'em on me."

    The knot in your stomach loosens slightly. If you can count on Strider, maybe you'll all get through this. "When Feferi arrives, send her over. She might have enough life powers left to help. I want Sollux sleeping if that's at all possible; his psi is at least as dangerous as Eridan's rifle when he's fresh, but right now he'd probably fry his own brain. If you have trouble getting people to do what they need to, get the Seers to help you."

    "Rose's needles are pretty hardcore, come to think of it."

    "She's a better strategist than a fighter."

    "Which is saying something. No, I gotcha. Once we can move John and the alchemiter, maybe we should relocate somewhere more defensible."

    "I'll keep it in mind." You glance up at Aradia. Her face doesn't look as ruddy as it should, and there's sweat beading on her brow. "Okay, I think we've wasted enough time sucking our own bulges here. Get moving."

    He unfolds smoothly, shoulders squaring. But he hesitates for a last look at Egbert. "Don't... I mean... can you?"

    "If it's possible, I will."

    He nods. He vanishes with a whipcrack of displaced air, leaving only a trail of dust swirls and shivering grass to indicate which way he went. Now all you have to do is save Egbert's life before Aradia loses control of the time freeze. Easy peasy. Right. Okay.

    God, you think you're going to throw up.