undertakingThanatology
Fandoms
- Homestuck (7)
Recent works
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Summary
She contacts you, most of the time, but you gradually come to enjoy those conversations more than you’d thought you would. She’s not like the other trolls; she’s polite – in comparison – and seems interested in you and your session. Okay. You can work with that. You’d never really wanted to become friends with any of them, but she’s actually decent. You’re starting to like her.
She says she’ll contact the Gods and ask them to set up more dream bubbles for the two of you.
What is it with the girls you know always being in with some elder Gods? You love your friends.
So, you meet her again. And again.
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Summary
“Coming on a bit strong there, aren't we?” he asks with a weird, accent-y laugh. One thing you've noticed, he seems so much happier now. It’s not exactly a surprise, the crapsack world of your youth was another country by now, but it was so prominent with him. As a kid he’d smiled, like, once, probably over a wet dream of killing all land dwellers. And now, here he was, laughing like you’re his oldest friend. Maybe you are.
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"The bell rang, a bitter clanging in his ears that was all too familiar, and Karkat grabbed his things and left the classroom as quickly as possible, leaning against the outside wall and waiting for Strider. He took a deep breath of the clearer air and closed his eyes. It was more hypochondria and stress than asthma; he just worried too much and it didn’t take a lot for him to be on edge."
A sort of British boarding school AU in which Strider daringly visits the girls' school, Serket leads an expedition into the forest, and Vantas finds himself in a classroom after hours doing compromising things with one of his peers...
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The first time you meet John Egbert doesn’t go exactly how you’d imagined it would.
You shake hands like two Friendleaders meeting for the first time, ready to save the world.
You shake hands like two scared kids at the end of the universe.
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Summary
…despite being too Strider to really show it, you felt the stress of the Game as much as the rest of them, if not more for seeing yourself die all those times. No one was as cool as they could have been with all that crap. Shit was fucked up. If Sburb was a formal essay, that would be the thesis.