Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

[klawful]

Who: klawful Karkat Vantas | givehead Dirk Strider | Open to All
What: Memory share from December's event
When: Throughout December
Where: Mostly in memory share locations

Content Warnings: Severe isolation, depression, suicidal ideation, physical/mental child/sibling abuse, emotional abuse, extreme themes of xenophobia/discrimination/hate crimes, dysphoria, graphic smashing of baby aliens, insect-like aliens, post-apocalyptic scenarios, spoilers for Homestuck??

𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 𝕂𝔸ℝ𝕂𝔸𝕋 𝕍𝔸ℕ𝕋𝔸𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕃𝕀𝔽𝔼 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕊𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕊.

1. Enter The Signless - (CW: Baby death/discrimination)

(You awaken in a dark place filled with cocoons. Small, colorful Alternian troll wigglers have begun to crawl out, plopping down onto the ground. The cavern around you is massive and glittering. There is tension crackling through the air, and the more your eyes adjust to the dark, the more you realize the ground is smeared with colors that match some of the wigglers. A nearby lime-colored wigglers falls out of its cocoon with half of its legs missing. An older troll moving by stops to smash the wiggler with one fell swoop of a club. What's left of the wiggler is scraped into a bucket and the troll moves onward, navigating the complex tunnels. You were not seen.

You should probably get out of this freaky place. But there's something wiggling against your foot. Look down, and you will see something even you know is out of place. A vivid, bright red wiggler, smaller than the others. There were rust-colored wigglers moving about, but this one was candy red with small, stunted horns. Its eyes weren't even open yet. It couldn't quite get onto its legs, stuck on its back.

Maybe you're about to help the lil guy out. Or maybe you're about to ditch ship. Either way, a tall, elegant troll steps out from behind nearby rocks and instantly freezes the moment she sees you. She speaks in a smooth voice, in a deep, clicking language that begins to readjust into comprehensible words through the power of the memory-)

Who are you? (She demands, her voice spiked with hostility.) Step away from that wiggler. Now.

2. Enter the Shameful Blood (CW: Death of children, themes of bullying/harassment, discrimination, violence)

(You are at the edge of a forest with gnarled, turquoise trees. Tall purple grass brushes against your legs and in the sky above, there is a pink moon. It would almost be beautiful if it weren't for the sound of screaming and snarling heading towards you. There is a gang of young trolls, which, to the human eye, might look like a bunch of eight-year-old kids, but you know, with grey skin and a variety of horns. Most of them were wearing shirts with blue-colored symbols on them, and sprinting ahead of them was a boy with two oversized horns jutting out of the side of his head and a brown Taurus symbol on the front of his shirt.

One of the trolls leading the chase was covered in brown blood and was howling. They got to the kid, grabbing a hold of one of his horns and yank him backward, pulling him to the ground. The group descends, savagely attacking the young troll and it's clear that this isn't just bullying. They were fully intending to kill him, screeching in their distant language.

They would have likely succeeded if a sickle didn't come sailing out of the air and slice one of the heads off of one of the taller bluebloods. It falls to the ground with a thump and the others immediately stop. Crouching in the grass was a very young Karkat, wearing a heavy hoodie and baggy pants. The brown blooded troll sees his means of escape and takes it, already crying, and sails past Karkat without a word.)

I'm gonna execute every last one of you fuckers. (Karkat announces this loudly, his young voice scratchy and squeaky. He holds up his other sickle.)

You will pay for your crimes! (The bluebloods don't look impressed. The leader of the pack crosses her arms over her chest and snorts: "Wow, it's the closet case. We're so scared, Karkat.")

You should be, bitch! I just literally killed one of you!

(The girl sends an indifferent glance to her fallen companion before she rolls her eyes. That was Jaycee. She was a complete idiot. A wiggler could have killed her!)

Then why was she on her team? I thought you only wanted strong trolls on your team. (Karkat was rearing up to fight, stomping towards the trolls. The girl troll started to roll her sleeves up. "Dipshit. Everyone knows a team should be dispensable. You gotta have the lower ranks to weed out the morons like you."

One of the other companions got bored of the talking and whipped Karkat's sickle right back at him. It caught him on the shoulder, which instantly made him gasp and flinch back. Not out of pain though. Something raw and fearful entered his eyes and he dropped his other sickle to snap his hand over the injury. Suddenly, he didn't seem so eager to fight. The leader of the pack smirked wickedly.

"I think it's time we see what color you really bleed. Get him." With a snap of her fingers, her pack descended. Karkat fled into the woods. Do you help the poor kid out?)

𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 ℕ𝕆𝕎 𝔻𝕀ℝ𝕂 𝕊𝕋ℝ𝕀𝔻𝔼ℝ 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕃𝕀𝔽𝔼 𝕊𝕋𝕀𝕃𝕃 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕊𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕊.

1. Last Man Standing (CW: Isolation, depression, neglect of a child, apocalypse/alien invasion)

(This memory presents itself strangely. You are in the middle of an ocean on the roof of a beautiful highrise apartment. Seagulls coast along the waves. It is peaceful. A small blonde boy sits on the edge of the roof. The memory flickers, the passing of time rapidly sped up, the sun rising and setting again and again. You begin to see the boy's life unfold, following him inside his apartment.

He can't be any older than eight. There are no adults. Just a tall robot and an intimidating-looking puppet that he occasionally speaks to. Most of the time, he is silent. He wakes up. He eats processed food from cans or things he has gardened on his little roof or fish he has gotten from the ocean. He showers for a long time. Sometimes, he does nothing all day, just staying in bed, staring out his window. Some days, he sits on the roof and stares out at the ocean, silent. Alone. Other days, he trains. He fights with a katana and it's evident that he is no ordinary boy. He moves too fast to see, clanging metal off of practice robots. He works out. He dives into the ocean to salvage metal from the fallen city of Houston.

Sometimes he hides when alien ships glide over his home. Sometimes he spends hours at a record table, making shitty mixes and listening to music. Other times he watches movies and tries to replicate human speech in stilted, awkward sentences, somehow still managing to speak with a Texan accent.

Other days he just sits and stares at his hands, doesn't eat, doesn't do anything. Some days, the robot cannot engage with him at all, and they both stare, they both stay still. The robot does not understand the emotional needs of human children. Time passes. The boy is alone. He remains alone.

Time finally slows down when he is about ten and you can finally engage with him. The world feels real around you. He is sitting on the roof, his glasses off and in his hand. He's tinkering with them, frowning hard. His blonde hair is windswept and chaotic, nothing like the perfect spiked mass he would later come to be known for. His katana is on the ground nearby, and a few seagulls are chilling around him. Do you approach this child and potentially be the first real contact he has ever had with another sentient being?

At least it's just a memory. Takes some of the pressure off, huh.)

2. Beat the Apocalypse to the Punch (CW: Graphic abuse of child/sibling, apocalypse scenario)

(This Dirk is from a different time, a different variation of earth. He's a grown man, thirty, and has managed to grow a little bigger than the Dirk from Trench. He got to about 6'3 and his body was stacked with muscle. You see a similar time-lapse, of him finding a blonde baby in the heart of a crater and deciding to adopt the baby through the bizarre circumstances. You see his egotism in believing that he found a special baby, a baby only he could raise. There are good memories. Memories of Dirk teaching the baby how to rap, making the baby mini sunglasses to match his own.

But there are bad memories. Memories of him testing the kid's reflexes and progressively subjecting him to more and more psychological and physical torment all in the name of "training." He fights with his brother constantly, pushing him into a "strong kid." He rails on him with a sword and there are several times where Dave winds up cut and bleeding, bruised and busted, trying hard to choke down tears. Dirk is impassive. He is indifferent. He just sees this as a time to grow. Tells Dave to buckle up and get better.

"You will die without me." He reminds Dave of this regularly, "This world will kill you. You have no idea what's out there."

The thing is, Dirk was kind of right. Dave jumpstarts the literal apocalypse one day when he decides to pop in the beta of a stupid game called Sburb that he and his friends decided to play. The entire world is on fire, literally, and Dirk knows he has to deal with this shit. He deals with it.

The city of Houston, Texas is burning. Literally burning, comets on fire shooting down and exploding all around them, but the biggest meteor is taking its time so Dirk takes his. Dave's screaming about needing to do something, but Dirk ignores him. He fights him, whoops his ass into the ground because he fucked up and wasn't ready for this. Dave's battered body left behind says as much, but Dirk loves his brother. He loves his brother so fucking much that he launches off their highrise and through the air. This is not a normal person.

Dirk is not a normal person.

He never was a normal person.

He cracks the meteor in half with his sword. Dave might not understand, but Dirk is trying to save his life, the life of his friends. He knows this is just the beginning, but he hopes it buys his brother some time.

After that, he splits through space and reality. Everything distorts, but Dirk doesn't waiver, and you have no choice but to follow the memory through. You both wind up on a giant spinning record. Dirk's taking the only breather he knows he's going to get. He's sweating, but unphased, polishing his sword with a piece of felt he had tugged out from his pocket.

He doesn't even glance at you, but he speaks up:)

This is about to get real ugly. (Do you ask about his brother? Prepare for a real shitty fight? Just watch him die? Let's see!)

OOC/WILDCARD:
If you want me to write up any specific memories from Homestuck, let me know! I can be reached through a PM on one of my accounts or @ clussy on Plurk. Thanks! These memories are intended to be directly interacted with. The first memory for Karkat is technically of his ancestor that eventually influences Karkat's existence, the Signless, but is intended to be a lore-centric prompt.

My bois will arrive eventually in the prompts after your character has seen these things unfold. I wanted characters to have a raw exposure to the memories first before Dirk / Karkat could interject or distract from the core memory.

Comments

beat the apocalypse to the punch.

[deathrespect]

Funny way to show you care.

( Samatoki's voice is low and just a little venomous; that's the only explanation for Dirk's cracking the meteor in half.

Either that or he just wanted something to lord over the child with. "I saved your life. You owe me."

Samatoki hears it in his head, in his father's voice. His claws itch and flex. )

Ugly for you or the other guy?

[givehead]

(Dirk doesn't move. He doesn't even seem surprised that he's gained inexplicable company. If he's bothered by the venomous tone, he doesn't indicate it. Instead, he spares the guy a glance.)

Is it?

(There's some suggestive tone of what would you have done?

He doesn't put his sword away. He scans the flaming red skies around them and adjusts his cap.)

For everyone on board, I reckon. (He looks at the man again.) Hope you're worth something in a fight.

Last Man Standing (can I be greedy and tag Karkat too?)

[13thcommander]

[This world is beautiful. Impossibly lonely, but beautiful.]

[Erwin finds himself watching the water with the boy, marvelling at how the sun glints off it and how much of it there is. He keeps waiting for someone to sail in off the water and get the boy, but it never happens. Time keeps fluctuating, speeding up and then slowing down, and the realisation sinks in: the boy is all alone. It's just him, in the middle of an endless expanse of blue.]

[Once he understands this, Erwin pays less attention to the water and more to the boy. He can feel the loneliness in his chest; Erwin was never as physically isolated as this child, but he knows the ache of always being outside everyone else, of never having a place where he truly belonged. He understands the impulse to simply lay in bed and let the world pass you by.]

[Then something changes, and Erwin is physically there, standing behind the boy on a roof. He can smell the salt in the air, can hear the harsh cries of the white and grey birds. The boy hasn't noticed him yet, and Erwin clears his throat.]

Hello. What are you working on?

[He keeps an eye on that sword, just in case he needs to dodge away from an attack. He's doing everything he can to look non-threatening.]

oooh PLEASE do :) i'd be delighted

[givehead]

(If he was older, this might have ended differently. He might have darted for his sword. Instead, he's still young, still underdeveloped, and completely inexperienced in a single moment of genuine human companionship. Dirk startles, his legs yanking up to his chest, and he half looks ready to roll off of the roof and into the ocean.

He doesn't. He steadies his breathing like his robot has taught him to whenever he got scared. He doesn't go for the sword, but he clutches his glasses tightly. His eyes dart all over Erwin, drinking in the sight, questioning it, because the only thing he could think of was that this was a vivid hallucination.

A man was talking to him. A real man. Like on the TV, but there was no TV. Just him. And a man. A human man. Dirk feels words choke in his throat and he finds he can't say anything at all. He looks caged and nervous, eyes wide and vulnerable, and realizing this, he quickly puts his glasses back on. His face becomes increasingly red.

He clears his own throat and tries to remember what he's supposed to do. What the people on TV did.)

Um. (Think. Think. Words. He knew words. The man asked a question.) Computer.

(He's trying so hard, okay.)

awww yeah

[13thcommander]

[Was Erwin himself ever like this? So isolated and yet so obviously frightened by the thought of interaction? He doesn't think so, but the loneliness of this place and this boy still bleeds through, and it makes his chest ache in sympathy.]

A computer in a pair of glasses?

[Fascinating!]

Can you show me how it works?

Last Man Standing

[laminae]

[This is a scene that reminds Fern so intensely of Ooo he wonders for a second if he's actually wound up back here. But he isn't - or at least, this isn't any part of Ooo that he's ever been to before - and once that fact settles in his mind he turns his attention to his surroundings. He's a little comforted at seeing the robot, though the puppet creeps him out. He isn't sure what to make of the alien spaceships that occasionally fly by, since they seem pretty cool but that kid obviously wants to avoid them.

The kid is, obviously, is who he zeroes in on. Everything is going by at a flickering, unstable rate of fast, then slow, then fast again, and Fern chalks it all up to time shenanigans. Glob, he hates time shenanigans. That, and watching the kid, are reminding him of his time as Finn Sword, and not in a good way. Especially when it becomes abundantly clear that there aren't any other humans around, that the kid's only company is the robot. He's alone. He's really, really alone.

It gets to be a bit hard to watch. Fern has never liked being alone, it reminds him too much of those months of being trapped in the Finn Sword, cut off from the rest of the world, just waiting while life passed him by. That's what this kid's life feels like. It's painful, that sense of being trapped, of just existing in some kind of awful, unchanging limbo instead of actually living.

That's why, when he notices everything settling down, he approaches.]

Uh, hey? Cool sword.

[givehead]

(This was a part of Dirk where Dirk still expected nothing from the world around him. This was back when he never comprehended the possibility of friendship, of interacting with others. It's so unexpected that Dirk winds up staring stupidly at Fern. This was something humans did. Talk. They spoke to each other and exchanged comments.

He wishes Sawtooth was around, but if he wasn't, then whoever this was probably wasn't an actual threat. That's what Dirk liked to think. Then again, it could be a test. He's so busy thinking about what's happening that he winds up not responding at all to the greeting. It has been at least a solid two minutes and finally, Dirk forces himself to move.)

...Thank you. (His words come out stilted, awkward, and with the faintest Southern drawl. It makes the sentiment sound a bit more like "thaank yew." He puts his glasses back onto his face, feeling exposed in front of this new ...person. Were they a person? None of the shows he watched showed humans looking like this, but what did he know? Those were just movies.)

Are you...a boy too?

[laminae]

[After having seen how utterly alone Dirk was, Fern makes sure to just stay where he is. He gets what it's like to have been alone for so, so long and then to suddenly not be. It's a weird, jarring experience and he doesn't want to make it any worse than it already is.

So that's a whoooole lot of awkward silence for that two minutes, and during it Fern shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure if he did something wrong. It wouldn't surprise him if he already screwed something up, that's just how he is most of the time.

But hey, he speaks! Fern grins a little, and oh geez, that's certainly a question. He rubs the back of his head.]

Yeah. As much as a pile of grass can be, anyways. Whiiich I think is pretty close to how humans think about it?

[The whole grass thing has made stuff like this complicated, but at the very least he identifies as a boy, and that should be enough.]

Enter The Signless

[kyley_b]

[Kyle know what this is.

He's never seen it, no, and he only has a rudimentary understanding of how things work, but he knows what trolls look like, has heard descriptions of what they are as infants. He's even been told of the callous, brutal way in which they are treated so that the violent death inflicted on the little green wiggler shouldn't come as a shock to him.

It does, but it shouldn't.

Kyle is too late to help that one, but then he sees the little red wiggler and nothing else matters.

It's red. Vibrant, beautiful red. And in this place that can only mean one thing: it's like Karkat. And if it's like Karkat, someone is probably going to kill it.

Kyle is reaching down to help the wiggler when the troll appears and speaks to him. He freezes for only a fraction of a second, then he grabs the wiggler and holds it protectively against his chest. (He does worry, briefly, that it might bite him, but oh well, what will be will be.)]

No. I'm not going to let you hurt him.

[klawful]

(The Dolorosa flexes her clawed fingers against the rock she's hiding behind. Her glowing yellow eyes pierce Kyle, narrowing into slits. A snarl is starting up at the back of her throat, but then Kyle speaks and her eyes widen in surprise. This strange, pale freak alien was implying she would hurt the wiggler?)

You fool. (She hisses the words. There's an ominous honking nearby followed by the death squeal of another wiggler being culled. She snaps her head in the direction, growling again, but then she's looking back at Kyle.)

I'm not here to hurt him. Follow me now or stay and get both of you killed.

(She doesn't stop to wait and see what Kyle would do. She picks up her skirts and heads for a thin tunnel.)

[kyley_b]

[Kyle considers tucking the wiggler under his arm like a football and running as fast as he can in the direction opposite the culling noises.

Instead he curls the wiggler closer to him and follows the mysterious troll. He glances at the little grub and whispers:]

You're gonna be okay. I'll protect you

enter the signless

[eudaimonikos]

[What pretty caves! What interesting baby-headed grubs!

Granted, Michael is biased. "Baby-headed grubs" feel like a classic Bad Place invention. It is so easy to frighten humans just by making spooky child-things! Normally he doesn't care to think about that place, but he's in a strange, restless mood right now, and these aren't hurting anybody. They're just striking him as a little nostalgic.

Then, in true Bad Place fashion, someone gets crushed.]

Yikes.

[He raises an eyebrow at the crushing of the little lime grub. Was that really entirely necessary? It doesn't exactly bother him, but he knows it ought to. Maybe on another day, it would have. Just a few days ago, even...? Well, it doesn't matter. There's a lot of things that would emotionally affect a human that have just never done it for him. He's fine, he's fiiiine. It doesn't mean he can't behave! Just that he has to think about it a little harder.

Restless energy courses through his body. He's not in the mood for contemplation. He wants to do something! Something good - sure, sure, of course. No problem. Easy! Michael slips into an old familiar stance, unbreathing, and stalks after the troll from the shadows.

Good! Good good good! He's definitely helping! That's the part he's excited about, and the fact that he'll get to jump someone is wholly secondary! He takes a few silent steps, and then his foot fetches up against another of the grubs.

Michael frowns down at it. It's bright red, weird. Something in him still aches for a fight. Wouldn't it feel so good? It's not wrong, really, to fight someone who's going around crushing baby grubs, is it? But for all that's happening, it's still fairly early in the month, and Michael is practiced at ignoring his more demonic impulses. This grub is different; it'll likely get killed. He can't just leave it there.

He takes a deep breath, fingernails digging into his palms. Then he turns away to scoop up the red grub instead.]

Alright. Okay, little guy. We can get something done here.

[Grub heist! That's exciting too, right? And the arrival of the second troll - that seems to promise a little excitement! Michael grins, the expression somewhat at odds with the careful way he's still managing to hold the grub.]

Nahhhh, I'm good.

[klawful]

(The little grub seems delighted to be saved rather than obliterated into red paste. It gives small squeaks not dissimilar to that of a newborn puppy, its legs wiggling around like crazy. Trolls may not be loving creatures, but that hardly meant they didn't enjoy the attention.

The grub is starting to mouth idly at Michael's jacket when the Dolorosa appears.

Unfortunately for Michael's fight instincts, the Dolorosa wasn't the one looking for a fight. But fortunately for Michael, there were plenty of creatures in these caves that would.

Okay, there might be a fight because the Dolorosa looks absolutely affronted at being told no.)

Excuse me? (She hisses at Michael, showing a mouth full of fangs, looking every bit a violent monster until three seconds later, she's normal and back to looking elegant.)

You are not a troll. Nor are you a jade blood. Unhand the child and walk away. You do not know the danger you are in just by holding that.

(She points directly at the bright red grub that is now lightly, harmlessly bumping its head against Michael's chest on repeat. Babies are so dumb.)

Last Man Standing

[onekindsoul]

Ruby watches the life of this boy pass by and she understand isolation to a degree but not quite like this. She had lived on a small island herself and hadn't ventured far. She had lost her mother, but she still had sister, dad and uncle. So while she was a little awkward she hadn't never been absolutely alone like he had. Still her heart ached at the faint resemblances to what she had been through. No one deserved to live like this and while she couldn't take that pain away she could try and ease it just a little.

She didn't have words for him but she knew something he could understand. So she approached the katana on the ground and picked it up. It's only then that she approaches and offers the handle to him.

"Hey. Want to go a round or two? It always helps me when I've got something on my mind."

SOFT

[givehead]

He knew about girls. He knew that the only other person alive was a girl named Roxy that he hasn't actually made contact with, but he has dreamed about her a few times in a weird purple city. He thinks she might be real, but sometimes it felt impossible that she could be.

Then there was this girl. It feels easier, somehow, that it's a girl instead of another boy. There's less pressure for...For something that he's too young to really understand yet, but he feels strangely relieved. Like maybe he wouldn't have to try as desperately to come across as someone who knew what they were doing.

She looks older too. Old enough that she probably didn't care if a little kid didn't know what he was doing.

He watches her grab his weapon, but doesn't feel afraid. She doesn't seem violent. But he has no gauge for that, does he? When she holds the katana out, he carefully takes it. It's like he's never held a sword before in his life, but it's a lot different when there's a flesh and blood person standing in front of you instead of a dummy or a robot.

"Will I accidentally hurt you?" It's a real question. He has no clue about what it's like to fight off a real person and he's not trying to belittle, not trying to underestimate her. It's not a no though, and he's already gripping his katana properly, shifting somewhat into a traditional fighting stance.

1. Last Man Standing

[wannasmash]

Not a hermit, who isolates by choice and is usually an adult. Not a feral child raised by wolves either. There is no living being to have conversations with, save for birds and sea life. There is no nurturing presence where there should be one. The strange aircraft passing overhead mean danger, not civilization. This kid is alone for far too long, and an ache starts to knot in Midoriya's chest.

Who left his kid here? Did his parents die? Where is everyone?

Time returns to a normal pace. He feels a slight dropping in his stomach. The illusion of a sped up landscape messes with his inner ear. He staggers a little, his Iron Soles clanking lightly on the roof. This... is a memory he can interact with. He's not sure how conscious the other Sleeper can be of that.

He's already where he can be easily seen, standing awkwardly like the dork he is, wind tussling his hair. He's in his hero costume because he meant to delve into his own potentially dangerous memories, but he was in this boy's head instead. Deciding to just go for it, he raises a hand in greeting.

"Sorry for bothering you..."

[givehead]

Sometimes the ocean felt like the closest thing to real companionship. When he was real young, he had a habit of personifying the waves. He liked to think that whenever they crashed up against the rafters that held his apartment up, that they were excited to see him and trying to get his attention. That the water just wanted to play with him. But when he got older, he started to see storms as the ocean being angry with him.

He tried to stop projecting after that. These days, he watched it and wondered if he would ever see anything but ocean ever again. It was still pretty.

Then he's not alone. No one ever told him (because who would have?) that you can feel it when you're not alone. There's this funny prickling sensation that ripples over him and he's on his feet, turning on his heel and-.

There's a boy. Another boy. In an unusual outfit that immediately reminds Dirk of old comics, he had stuffed under his bed, mostly ruined by age. He was too young to realize yet why guys made him a little anxious, and this one's no different. He's holding his katana before he realizes, but his stance is more defensive than offensive.

"Who are you?" he asks, and then after a beat, "You're not bothering me." Because that was clearly important to address.

Enter the Shameful Blood

[13thcommander]

[Another bizarre world, this one even more foreign than the first. Erwin spends longer than he'd like to admit examining the sky and foliage around him, quietly pondering where he is and how this world aligns with his own. When a large group of grey, horned children come barreling down on him, Erwin steps into the trees, his hand automatically falling towards his thigh and the blade canisters that should be there.]

[Fortunately, they are, and Erwin grips a blade handle, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.]

[The strange kids aren't interested in him, though. They fall on one of their own, and their savagery and violence isn't what Erwin was expecting. After a moment's shock, he starts to step out of the trees.]

[Too late; another child has emerged, saving the one being beaten. Erwin watches as the tides turn against the new child, and his eyes narrow.]

[He doesn't like odds stacked so heavily.]

[When the kids run into the woods, Erwin falls in step behind them. Armed as they are, he isn't afraid. They're kids, with the tallest one barely reaching his waist, and he has his ODM gear on.]

[In fact, Erwin sites one of the branches above him and aims his gear at it. A nearly silent whoosh later, and he's in the air, traversing the trees above the kids and following them deeper into the forest. If the one running away starts to lag, he'll intervene. For now, he just watches.]

this is perfect ;o;

[klawful]

(Karkat wasn't the biggest or fastest troll. He made up for his incompetency through sheer rage and determination. But right now, he was determined to just get away so they wouldn't see the garish, bright red spilling out of his arm. It wasn't worth the fight. Even if they didn't kill him, Karkat was paranoid that they would go and tell someone who would.

He tries to navigate the woods cleverly, but he wasn't used to the terrain and kept tripping over roots and rocks. Thankfully, the kids chasing him weren't too much better.

He's heaving a bit and finally stops running. He's oblivious to the man following him, but mostly because no trolls really traveled through the air like that. He would never think to look up. He contemplates his options, trying to think quickly. He pulls his hand off his arm to examine the damage and instantly whimpers at the sight of bright red blood - so obvious against the dark grey of his skin and black of his torn sweater.

The fear became enormous. What if he left drops behind? It even had a strong cherry odor. What if they noticed? Red tears began to drip down his face and he darted towards a tree with a massive, complex root system. He wiggles between the dense roots until he's securely under. It's a good hiding spot.

A few minutes later and the kids run right past the tree, oblivious, and go well beyond. But Karkat doesn't come out right away. Instead, there's the soft sound of crying and an unhappy troll.

Who knows though. Something might come back. But for now? The main danger had passed. For now.)

Enter the Shameful Blood

[droptheious]

[Varian really hates memory sharing. Deerington had a habit of just dropping it on them and it looks like Trench is no better. None of this is helping the growing anger and resentment that's been baiting at him since the month started. His own skin is grey, and rocky- but this is brought on by corruption, not birth.

He knows trolls exist in Trench- he spoke to Equius, and he was aware that their homeworld was dangerous and very survival of the fittest. But knowing and seeing are different things. He's about to step in to intervene himself, to stop this poor kid from being killed when the sickle sails through the air.

Karkat. That's what one of the kids calls the mouthy one and a spark of anger charges in his chest- just for a moment. This is the guy who messed up Fern. But logic overtakes emotion this time - he can be mad about that later, right now he needs to focus on this. On Karkat trying his best to protect someone else and getting attacked for it. When the sickle comes sailing back, he moves- stepping out towards the boy- suddenly wishing he had some weapons on him. ]

Hey!!! Leave him alone!

[klawful]

(The appearance of the human boy interrupts the memory and distorts reality. None of them had ever seen a human and so they all stare, even Karkat. Karkat's clutching his arm where the sickle had gotten him, two different kinds of panic rising up inside of him. The risk of exposure, but also whatever this guy was doing.

What was he doing?

It slowly dawns on Karkat that he was...standing up for...Karkat? Was that what was happening? No one stood up for Karkat. He was the signless, blood-hiding social leper with an annoying personality. But then he realizes the danger. He moves towards the new guy and grabs at his arm, still keeping his cut covered.)

Dude. We need to run. They're going to fucking kill us.

Beat the Apocalypse to the Punch

[opress]

[Savage understood it. To be a sibling in a world that would most definitely be perfectly willing to kill them, where much of the training would fall to someone else. It was a brother's responsibility to toughen up one young and not as strong. While he had never been quite so brutal with Feral, he had definitely laid into his younger brother for the sake of making the younger Zabrak understand that it was Savage that made a promise to protect and teach, but there always would be risks involved.

To a degree, he even understood the indifference. Fortunately for him, when Feral had been dropped on him - literally - he had still been very young himself. It was easier to bond with a toddler when their age difference wasn't quite so vast. In the end, it didn't matter much because Feral was still dead.

And Dirk was busting up meteors with a sword. That was new. Savage knew the guy was power and boastful, but if this scene had any pearl of truth to it, the blond was definitely are more powerful that him or even his elder brother. Breaking up a meteor was... impressive.

The distortion of reality was strange, but in a sense, it reminded him of hyperspace lanes. Of course, normally he was in a ship with a hyperdrive, but it didn't faze him much to land on... whatever this was. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked unconcerned on if there was a battle to come or if the memory might just end all on its own.]

A fight?

[givehead]

That's right, partner.

(His voice is deeper in this timeline, the accent thicker. Everything about him seems to be heavier. There is no fear in him, and there might have never been fear. He doesn't gawk at Savage or wonders what or who he is. He just accepts him.)

My bro started the game without realizing what it meant. (He sighs, staring up at the sky, shaking his head.) He wasn't ready. But it is what it is and now we gotta hold it off as long as we can.

(He shrugs, and some part of this seems to be more of an internal monologue that Dirk had with himself when this situation had played out on the beta timeline.)

That's what a guardian does. We guard. (He finally looks at Savage, his own face completely impassive.)

Hope you can stand on your own. I'm not going to stop to help pick you up if you fall. There's no room for dead weight.

Signless; I realized Karkat talked to Deku about childhood stuff. Time for Ancestor feels instead ;;

[wannasmash]

His eyes have to adjust to the dim cavern. There's something on the floor. It's not the blood spilled in the Sleeper Farm; those colors are different. But, for a terrible, hair-raising moment, Midoriya believes he's back there, having to step past corpses and watch people get hurt all over again...

He remembers to breathe. These aren't squids, and there isn't a Zealot in sight. These bug-like wigglers have faces. It's not hard for Midoriya to put two and two together. They're not insects like the ones on Earth; they're people.

They're being killed.

Midoriya is frozen in place by the memory, unable to scream or fight or stop anything until something makes contact with his foot. By then, he knows to keep quiet. The elegant troll finds the young human in the green jumpsuit just starting to crouch next to the wiggler struggling against his armored shoe. He's trembling, dark green eyes wide, huge tears running freely down his face. He's still processing the death of an innocent person when he couldn't do anything but watch.

It's the one thing he can't take.

"No..."

Most humans talk about their fight or flight reflex. Midoriya has a third factor overlaid on it: the desire to save someone else. The shitty Venn diagram is a circle.

"Stop... Don't kill..."

His voice is low, guttural, and raw. Its desperate, aggressive, unhinged growl is at odds with his relatively soft, small, ordinary appearance.

hhhhh yes excellent this will hurt the exact right amount :')

[klawful]

Thankfully for Midoriya, the Dolorosa is decidedly not like other trolls. She never would be again after seeing that strange, mutated grub with its bright red body. The Dolorosa had not been expecting the mutant child to be in the company of an alien.

She's not oblivious though. She can recognize what is happening with the boy. She herself has felt useless before, has felt like she has just stood idly by while violence and carnage burned around her. This was the day she would stop feeling that. This is the day she finally chose to do something.

The Dolorosa hesitates where she is. There's a delicacy in the situation that keeps her where she is. This wasn't a troll she was dealing with. It was something she didn't recognize and she couldn't tell just yet where his aggression was aimed.

"Do not kill that child," she says slowly, "Do not hurt him. You have no idea what he is. Leave before they come back and find both of you."