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Saving Grac(i)e

Chapter Text

Memory of how she had gotten there was no where to be found. But for a long while, she was just floating, feeling weightless and the wind whipping her hair. She felt at peace for the first time-first since when she could not recall.

She could not remember where she was; how she had gotten there; or even her own name. As if something had wiped her mind, the canvas stood empty and blank waiting for the first stop of paint to identify it.

Suddenly there is water everywhere, it's soaking into her clothes, it's in her nose and mouth and she can't breathe. She's choking and coughing and fighting to keep her head above the water, the taste of salt heavy on her tongue but she can't find in her to care. She's too desperate in her attempt to keep afloat, legs kicking and arms flailing around wildly do try and stay up.

She's weak. Weak from what she has no idea, all she knows is her muscles hurt and there is an awful stinging in her left leg and the water gets higher. It's rising past her neck. Past her chin. She's choking on more water than she can spit out, dark lace grasping at the edge of her vision as she tried to hold on. She slipped under for a moment, broke the surface in a frenzy of coughing fits, and then slipped back under.
She could no long find the strength in her to try and swim towards the quickly disappearing surface as she sunk into the depths.

She is not sure how she got there.

She is not sure of who she is either.

She is also not sure if that thing she saw just before darkness broke her vision was real or not.

A young blood is lifted out of the ocean, draped against the back of a lusii that had been passing by in time to see her struggling. The creature pressed it's snout to her, forcing her to cough up more water and take harsh, shallow breaths before it began to make it's way to shore.

She was very young, perhaps as young as it's current troll at the moment. He had only saved her because she bore the same symbol as him, the one he already had back on the beach, and had the same twisting horns atop her head. The creature swam for over and hour until it saw the familiar building of it's first troll in the distance.

The moment it planted it's hooves on the wet sand it let out a large bleat, calling for his troll. No sooner had he had the youngster coming running out, a joyful little grin on his painted face. The lusus bent it's long neck down, allowing his charge to hug his snout tightly. The lusii brayed and snuffed, huffing air out his nostrils and ruffling the young troll's clothes. He didn't seem to mind, laughing his usual loud way.

It was when the lusii pulled away did the laughing stop, face dropping at the idea that he was leaving so soon. But then the large sea creature tilted his head and grabbed something slung over his back, lifting up and setting the younger troll in his arms. He fell back in the sand under her weight, staring down at the newcomer. She was breathing too heavily and she was shaking violently, coughs making her already thin breath only thinner.

The lusii bleated again and budged his oldest troll towards his hive, intending that he take care of his newfound sibling. It took the other a moment before he finally realized what he wanted and he carried her inside. He set her down in the horn pile gently, rushing to his closet to grab a blanket and a dry shirt for her when she woke up. She was so small and frail looking, like even the smallest touch would shatter her to pieces if he weren't careful.

But he would be careful. He had to be.

She was his now.

She was his little sis.

He heard a scuffle from outside and looked out the window to catch his-their lusus wrapping himself around the hive and laying his head down on his hooves. Looks like he would be staying for a bit. That was more than fine with him.

It was a little while before she finally stirred, coughing again and shivering as she cracked her eyes open. Two dark grey orbs stared back at him from within golden pools. She blinked and sniffed, pulling the blanket tighter around her as she whined.

"Easy, little baby girl. Ain't a thing to be fearin' now. Big bro's right here."

She wrinkled her nose a bit as his dialect, his sentences a bit in disorder yet sounding so natural.

"hmm..mmm..bo." She tried to repeat what he had said, voice dry and forced from her near death experience. But the cute display just made him smile and pat her head ever so gently.

"That's right! Bro! I'm yo' bro now. Ain't that just the most miraculous thing you ever got your ganders on?" He asked as he picked up the smaller troll and held her in his lap. She snuggled closer, sniffling and eyelids drooping again.

"You tired, little sis?"

She nodded slowly, the battle to keep her eyes open was all too clear. She was losing.

"Alright then, you go and get your nap on, sis. Bro's gonna stay his ass right here." Her eyes were close before he had even finished the sentence, his smile widening at the sight.

He made a mental note to spend what boons he did have on a second recupercoon at some point, because although they could share his now it would quickly grow impossible as time passed. They would both eventually want their own personal belongs in their own names.

Speaking of...

"Ah, shit. Goatdad didn't give you a name did he?" He sat back against the horn pile in deep thought, face scrunched up as he mulled over appropriate names. He supposed the pie he had recently baked would help him concentra-

Oh wait what.

His lusus was suddenly bleating at him, peering in through one of the many windows his hive had. Oh, guess he wasn't supposed to eat this stuff. Good thing he hasn't yet.

Shit would have gotten weird.

Pie tossed away, he was no closer to giving his little miracle sis a name. He supposed he could have altered the letters of "miracle" and made her one, but he quickly decided against it. They needed to have the same initials. Because why not?

"G" names.

"G" names...

Wow, those were kinda hard to make up. It had to make sense, say everything about her instantly. And it had to be perfect. Nothing short of when it comes to his little miracle grace.

Hold on.

Grace.

Gracie! Yes, that was absolutely the perfect name for her! It have her the same initials as him, and it clearly spoke of the wonders she was able to perform simply by being there.

Little Gracie Makara.

Yes. Hell to the motherfucking yes.

He couldn't wait to tell Karkat.

Chapter Text

A young troll stands in her respiteblock. There is nothing particularly interesting about this troll. Really there isn't. But let's get to know her anyway. Because one way or another she's important to the story, and important characters need to be properly introduced.

What's her name anyway?

Her name is GRACIE MAKARA and she is seven sweeps old. She gets pretty excited by clowns of a grim persuasion which may not be in full possession of their mental faculties. She belongs to a rather obscure cult, which foretells of a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels which will rise one day on a mythical paradise planet that does not exist yet. The beliefs of this cult are somewhat frowned upon by those dwelling in more common lawnrings. But she does not care, she just goes along with whatever her bro likes.

Because her bro is awesome.

She likes to do whatever it is her bro likes. And her bro likes to test out his one wheeled device even though he is god awful at it. He also likes to do a little bit of baking sometimes. They both partake in a rather fine beverage and they both have all these goddamn horns all over the place. Sometimes her bro steps on one and scares the shit out of himself.

Her trolltag is terribleChoreographer and she speaks in a Matter that is not too bad on her terMs but whiMsical all the MotherfuckinG saMe.

What will she do?

She snags a bottle of Faygo and it is captchalogued through her Action Modus. It works by every time she picks up an item, she must assign it to an action (i.e. pointing, jumping, rolling, catching, etc.). In order to get the item, she would have to perform that action. The item, when its corresponding action is used, is thrown at super high speeds.

For instance, if she were to pick up her knife and assign it to pointing. If she pointed at something, then the knife would be flung where she was pointing at unnecessarily high speeds. It's a pretty alright Modus, except that one time she accidentally pointed to a spider near her bro's foot and almost sent her knife into him.

And that's why her knife is now assigned to chopping. To retrieve her knife she would simply have to chop her arm, making sure her bro is nowhere near her when she does. Although she would have liked to the Miracle Modus her bro gave her, she just couldn't stand the thing. It was so complicated and the bright colors gave her a headache.

Speaking of her bro she should probably go and find him. She knows how he can be when he gets left alone for long periods of time.

She heads downstairs only to find this part of her respriteblock empty. Uh oh, it looks like Gamzee has been baking again. She doesn't mind her bro's baking, it's just that she doesn't really think it's good for him.

She may be wrong, but she's pretty sure trolls aren't supposed to eat sopor slime.

At least that's what she heard. She read it in a book once. After their custodian died in a freak accident involving a spear, he'd taken up the habit. She's..okay with it? Maybe. But she won't bother him.


Whatever her bro wants to do is fine with her. Because he's awesome. Holy shit is he awesome.


But seriously, she should probably go and find him. She notices one of his clubs are missing. She never got the hang of juggling, so she resorted her strife specibus to batkind and knifekind.

Oh wait. There he is. He's out on the beach. He has his husktop with him so she can easily just troll him to get him back inside. Sure, it would be quicker and faster to just yell, but that would draw attention to her bro.

The last thing she'd want is for some passing seadweller to see her poor bro high out of his mind on the beach and decide to cull him. Her bro's too important to her.

Gracie, troll bro.

terribleChoreographer [TC] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]
TC: bro
TC: broooo
TC: broooooooo
TC: daMnit, GaMzee
TC: answer Me!
TC: WhAt?
TC: oH mAn SoRrY gRaCiE.
TC: I sPaCeD oUt.
TC: i know, bro. i can see you froM the hive.
TC: :o) hOnk!
TC: coMe on. You know you ain't supposed to be up and out this tiMe o' niGht. sea dwellers, bro.
TC: i don't wanna coMe down there one day and find your ass broken up ya' hear?
TC: AlRiGhT i'M cOmInG sIs.
TC: :oD
TC: :o)
terribleChoreographer [TC] stopped trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

Gracie got off her own husktop and decided that their hive was in too much of disorder for her liking. She picked up a few scattered horns and deposited them into the hornpile behind the cooling counter, and threw away the empty Faygo bottles that her bro was simply too out of it to try and do himself. That's okay though. She'd do anything for her bro.

Anything.

She's distracted with an issue of Game Grub and doesn't realize what's happening before it's too late.
The magazine goes flying from her hands as she gets enveloped in the worst tacklepounce anyone had ever seen. The two then proceed to roll around like a bunch of total idiots, laughing until they end up near the hornpile where they just lie there nuzzling into one another and tangled up like a bunch of squiddles.

Motherfuck were their quadrants so fucked up. No doubt they had the worse quadrants anyone would ever see. They were too red to be pale, yet not red enough to be flushed. Not that they would be flushed anyway. That would just be weird.

"Hey, lil motherfucker."

"Hey yourself, motherfucker."

"Whatchu up and getting your lookin' on?"

"You, motherfucker."

"Why?"

"Cause I can, motherfucker."

She breaks out in a small fit of giggles when he starts squishing her cheeks like when they were younger, her glasses getting skewed and no doubt her makeup smeared.

"Hey! Cut it out, bro!"

"Nah, that's aight."

"C'mon!"

"Naaaah."

"Gamzee!"

When he finally lets up, she gives him a swift swipe across the chest. Not meant to hurt but to get her point across that she really did not like it when he did that. He just laughs and tucks her under his chin and starts up a wicked purr in his chatterbox.

Yeah, her bro was awesome in all his weird clowny ways. Like when he starts rambling on about nothing in particular, sometimes his eyes will just get wide and he'll look at her and ask her shit like, "D'you fuckin' get what I'm putting down here, Gracesis?"

Sometimes she did. Sometimes she really understood just what the fuck it was her bro was saying and it made her feels biscuit hurt so good at all the shit that would come out of his mouth.

She starts up her own purr as he moves to the hornpile, falling into it without a second thought or grimace as bits of metal dig into his skin. She likes her own pile of blankets that she has up in her block of the hive, but she makes sure to have a few horns hidden in there somewhere.

"Hey, sis?" She cracks open one eye (when had she closed them?) to look at him through her lenses, humming her acknowledgment.

"Let's meet on Prospit, yeah? That sound like a motherfuckin' plan?"

"Yeah, bro. We'll get our meet on in the city of gold and we'll fly 'round and shit. Gon get some awful looks though. I dream on Derse 'member?"

"Ah, that shit don't matter. Long as we together, right? That's all that matters?"

Purple lips spread into a smile, snuggling closer to him with handfuls of his shirt as she mumbled.

"Yeah, bro. That shit's all that matters. It's always gon be you and me bro. Ain't needin' no one else, right?"

"Nah, no other fucker can be gettin' down in our miraculous pile time, sis. This shit's all us. Two sweet ass motherfuckers just gettin' their chills on."

This was all them. Just them two, no one else. No one could take this away from her. No one could take him. She wouldn't let them. He was her bro. No one else's.

He belonged to her.

"See you on Prospit, bro," She yawned, nodding off to the sound of his bloodpusher.

"See you on Prospit, sis."

Chapter Text

Derse was nice. Nothing but violet towers and bridges and fellows in snazzy suits wearing very prestigious looking hats. But it was missing something. She wasn't sure what it was, it just didn't feel completely whole.

Prospit was pretty and gold and bright. So motherfucking bright she had to squint the first time she was there with him. The carapaces there were pale looking peeps with colorful outfits all around. No wonder her bro liked it there so much.

There were colors fucking everywhere.

Gracie liked colors too, don't get her wrong. But she liked toned down pastels and shades. Not the fluorescent and neon hues that her brother took pleasure of. All of it just gave her a headache and made her eyes hurt.

So meeting down on the battlefield was a better option for the both of them. It was equal parts black and white with little dots of colorful grass and flowers peppering it's ground. Yes, the battlefield was their stalemate and she was okay with that. So when they were there together, in their purple and yellow pajamas lying down in the grass like a bunch of idiots, she felt okay.

She felt-

Good.

He had taken her glasses again, staring up at the sky and looking at the world through the perception distorting glass of her lenses. And she would laugh and let him and then take them back because she couldn't see. It was just the two of them in this world.

Though there were other Derse and Prospit dreamers, they stayed to their respectful dream worlds and didn't pay mind to the two highblood siblings that would dash off in a flurry and gold and violet. Not that she minded. She was okay with it just being them, that was how Gracie liked it best

When it was just her and her bro.

"Hey, sis. Check this shit out."

The sound of his voice broke her from her thoughts and she looked over to see him fiddling with some flowers, weaving their stems into each other until he was holding a little crown and he had the most pleased fucking grin on his face.

"And what'd you be up and makin' that miracle crown for, Gam?"

"Because a miracle sis deserves herself a crown, motherfucker."

It was their moments like these where she found herself at her happiest. Where her hair would be full of flowers and her face full of smiles. It was the moments like these that she forgot they lived in a world of carnage and slaughter.

It was here, between the dream worlds, that she truly felt blessed. And she thanked the Messiahs for dropping her life pulse into a body that found it's way to him.

She was looking up to the clouds, searching in the puffy masses what pictures would unfold for her. She saw things in the clouds, things she sometimes told her bro about and others she didn't. It was weird, but she believed she could see the future in those clouds. So whenever she was sure her bro had spaced out enough to not notice her silence, she would turn her ganders to the sky and search for whatever events she would get her gandering on.

She found a particularly fluffy cloud and a sinking feeling filled her gut. The fluffy ones always held bad news. And this one was the fluffiest shit she's seen in sweeps. She stood up slowly, careful not to arouse her brother from his trance, and flew up to the puff mass. She always saw better up in the sky than down on the ground.

The cloud was blank for a moment until it began to unfold it's disaster from within. It was a bit blurry, then again they all were, but she could make out her fellow highblood. What the hell was that sea-dweller doing with a wand?

Whatever he was doing, he look pissed. But he has been a bit saltier than usual after his break up with Feferi. Shit! She did not just use a pun! No. That most definitely did not happen.

Okay so maybe she had a pale crush on Ampora. Who the fuck said she couldn't? She could see his and Feferi's diamond failing from a million miles away and holy shit if it didn't make hers grow a little bit brighter whenever she saw him. With his stupid hipster fishy ways and his strange love for the hemospectrum.

Okay, Gracie. Stop it.

She floated back down to the ground, a part of her pan frying up the thought of if Eridan was awake or not. Would it hurt to go check?

After checking to make sure she wasn't disturbing her bro, she shot off towards her respective dream planet, making it there in no time at all. Distance didn't seem to matter to her, it was like she was just teleporting to places.

No time to dwell, unless it was a sea dweller. Haha.

Yeah, that one was bad.

She checked out Eridan's tower, and grinned at seeing his coon empty. Yes! he was awake! Now she just had to find him.

It wasn't hard at all. Eridan was a creature of habit, and habit was after a break up, he would go sulk on the tallest building he could find. So she found him at the palace atop the tower, his knees drawn up and a frown on his face that had her shooting diamonds for the bastard. It didn't take long for him to notice her as she landed and sat down next to him. All he did was ask in that strange accent of his, "What do you want?"

"Shit, can't a sis just be visitin' a good bro after he gone up and had his diamond shatter into a bunch of stardust bits?"

He grimaced at her lingo, almost like it hurt just hearing it as he huffed. "Can't you talk in any other way than how your shit-stain brother does?"

She ignored the insult and set her grin back on her face, nudging her lenses up higher on her nose.

"C'mon, Eribro. Don't need to be treating a motherfucker like garbage. 'specially when they up and wantin' in on what he and his fuchsia blooded ex had."

Okay that caught his attention and he was looking at her with this sort of shock expression. Like he was surprised she could be so bold in asking to be pale. Or that she even brought it up in the first place.

"Wait. Are you serious? You're being serious aren't you?"

"Serious as a motherfucker's hemopusher giving out on 'em."

"Look, Gracie, I appreciate the offer. But it's a little..soon. Don't you think?"

She figured and it hurt a little to know she couldn't have her fishy bro just yet. But she's waited this long so fuck it. She can wait longer.

"Nah, I get it. You still achin' up over all this Fef shit. I'm chill with givin' you time. But there's always some wicked pale going on for you in this bitch right here."

She still had that smile on her face, calm and easy and cool to the touch. She looked like the one who had plenty of time on her hands and nothing to do with it all when her brother wasn't taking it up.

And she was willing to wait for him.

Eridan looked down at his feet and picking at his fingers, inspecting his rings before glancing to her. "Thanks..."

"Not a fuckin' problem, Eribro."

---

Needless to say, the moirallegiance between Eridan and Gracie worked a hell of a lot better than the one he had with Feferi. Gracie was patient when it came to his rants and quick when it came to settling him down. She always had this smile on her face that made his diamond glow all pretty like when he saw it, and when he came to her she welcomed him with open arms and a calming hum. He was still angry at Feferi, but not nearly as much as he probably would have been had it not been for his new moirail. When he brought up the idea of white science, she shot him down into his place right quick telling him that spilling blood when so few of them remained wasn't go to do shit.

She even visited him on LOWAA! She sometimes showed up whenever he called just so he could see her and let off some steam about the others avoiding him and ignoring him. She also pushed him into not killing as many angels as much anymore since they didn't give grist and she liked the way they looked in the sky.

It was when she asked him to do the impossible did he question how good of a moirail he was to begin with.

Gracie trolled him with only a simple message in purple writing.

TC: yo. Get your ass onto LOFAG riGht quick, eribro.

Land of Fabric and Glow. It was a nice place with soft land scapes that were luminescent against the dark sky that always hung over it. He wasn't sure what it was she wanted, but he hurried his way there anyway and hopped his fishy self through the nearest gate. He found her waiting at the bottom of a mountain, that same little smile on her face. They met up in a pale hug, her giving him a soft pap on the back and his head before they separated and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"This way."

She lead him up the winding trail of the mountain, the semi-hard whatever-type-of-fabric-they-were-walking-on under their feet making it a bit of a struggle but they managed. He realized too late she was leading him to her quest bed. When she sat on the edge and looked at him expectantly, he paused.

"...what?"

"Do it."

"Do..what? Exactly?"

"Kill me."

He still had Ahab's Crosshairs with him in his sylladex, but he couldn't use it on her. Not his moirail. Sure, they made a deal that should they need to they would kill each other, but this didn't seem like that situation.

"Grace, I-"

"Look, Erifin," She cut him off, even using a fish pun to let him know she was serious. "I need to go Godtier, and we up and made us a motherfuckin' oath."

She tilted her head and gave him that smile. God damn that smile. "I'll only be dead for a minute. Then I'll have my ass up and full of life's miracles again and back to being your fuckin' moirail."

She was right. She would be dead for only a minute or two tops, then she would rise up as Godtier and would be alive and immortal on top of it all. He just had to remember that. He had that running through his pan on repeat as he grabbed his rifle from his strife deck.

Only for a minute.

He set Ahab's Crosshairs to it's lowest setting. It wouldn't do her any good going God Tier if her entire body were completely obliterated.

The jewel tip glowed with pent up energy, buzzing and crackling like one of Captor's Psionics. It should have been easy; just a squeeze of the trigger and then a short wait before she was back. He should have been able to do it. But for the first time in ever-

-Eridan hesitated.

He glanced between the gun and his moirail then back again, brows turned up in uncertainty and regret. He almost put the gun away before remembering what she said.

They made an oath.

It would only be for a minute.

The sea dweller closed his eyes tight and then squeezed the trigger. He heard the tell-tale electrical sound of the rifle firing at it's target, and then there was the sickening sound of dead weight hitting stone.

He didn't dare look, turning away from the scene before he opened his eyes again. He should have been used to this, spending sweeps killing Lusii for Feferi should have prepared him for the feeling of culling. Yet this time was different. This time almost felt wrong. This time had his spine tingling and his skin clammy in the worst way possible.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He stumbled a bit down the path, away from the scene of his recently dead moirail, and emptied his stomach behind a bush noisily. That was going to stain.

He wasn't imagining things, it was actually getting brighter. He could see his shadow darkening against the leathery ground and a noise began to fill his ears.

It almost sounded like Ahab's Crosshairs going off again, but not entirely. There was also the distant humming of those strange insects that littered the planet and it was all collecting at the top of the mountain. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look.

He risked a glance over his shoulder only to full out start staring at the sight. There she was, Gracie, dead as a troll could be without their dreamself, floating in a glowing ball of light and energy. It was encircling her arms and legs, spinning around her in a cyclone until she herself was no longer visible. The ball imploded for a moment before bursting and sending waves upon waves of blinding luminescence across the land. He had to shield his eyes away or risk becoming like Pyrope.

When the light faded, Eridan looked again, only to find his moirail missing from the spot where she had been just a moment ago. In a panic, he flew up the path back to her quest bed, looking around wildly for the girl and calling her name.

"Gracie? Gracie!"

It was the giggling behind him that stopped him from going into a full fledged panic attack. He turned, and there stood the Witch of Rage in all her glory and power. A faint violet glow was pulsating around her, evidence of her new abilities no doubt. But the purple lipstick and clown make-up were all too familiar.

His moirail was alive.

"See? What'd I be up and telling you, bro? Just for a motherfuckin' minute."

Her wings fluttered as she touched down and drew him into a pale hug like before, though he held on tighter because holy shit that was scary and he was actually beginning to think he may have lost her.

"Wanna get to gettin' your god tier on, Eridan?" She asked once they pulled but he just waved his arms frantically.

"No! Cod, no. I'm not ready for all that glowy shit. Plus, I don't want you to have to kill me.."

"But we made us a fuckin' oath! You scratched my back I gotta be scratchin' yours!"

A hand to the shorter troll's shoulder took the edge off the frown that had placed itself right up on her face.

"Really, it's fine. We'll be here a while, so what's the rush?"

She still seemed reluctant to let her end of the deal go unpaid for, but she dropped it with a nod. Then the grin was back and she was floating off the ground again with her glittering violet wings behind her. Wonder what those would smell like to Terezi.

"Let's take a fly 'round Fabric and Glow!"

He was in the midst of asking what the hell she was talking about before her arms were around his waist and holy shit he was up in the air no no no this was not okay.

His protests fell on semi-deaf ears as they flew, wind in their hair and Prince clinging tightly to Witch. Eventually she took pity on him once more and set him down near a cotton field, the hill soft and plush under his back when he landed and she joined him.

"That was fun."

"Maybe for you! I was terrified for my damn life, Gracie!" His huff only made her laugh and snort and honk before she papped him and he pulled her against him. She fit against the curve of his body ever so perfectly. He knew they would be staying like this for a while before either someone messaged her or him. Though it would most likely be her.

It would also most likely be her brother.

It still bothered him she called that drugged up creep such a relation, and after reading what it meant in human terms it just made his inside twist up at the idea. But whenever they talked about it, she refused to stop the name-calling on account that that's what Gamzee was to her. In the presence of an absent lusus, the only troll there to raise her would amount to a sort of brotherly status.

Though whether or not Gamzee actually fit that role was still up for debate.

He hasn't realized that they'd dozed off for a nap until his glasses started blinking behind his lids irritably. Who dare disturb such a good pale nap?

Oh, it was Karkat wondering why he wasn't on LOWAA. A quick explanation that he was servicing quadrant time shut the cancer up and left them to themselves again. By then however, Gracie had woken up and stretched and yawned and looked at him with a lazy smile.

"Karbro givin' ya' trouble again?"

"Yeah. Just wondering where I was."

"Aw, shit. My bad, Eribro. Didn't mean to make a motherfucker be up and worryin' with each other. You can get your going back to Wrath and Angels if you be wanting to."

He didn't want to, but he knew better than to test an already upset Karkat. So he heaved himself up and she floated before settling down. Another quick hug and a diamond between their fingers before he was off towards the gate that would lead him back to his planet.

The last hour had been hectic, and he figured maybe a angel culling or two would help him settle the anxiety.

Oh, but Gracie wouldn't want him to.

Maybe he'd just take another nap. Yeah. That sounded good.

Chapter Text

Gracie didn't have very many quadrants filled.

There was once upon a time ago that she thought she would fill her Spade. But she knew better. She knew she didn't truly hate him. If anything she felt sorry for the fucker. He had so much on his pan already and she wasn't going to bother him with her hate-flirting.

But there were moments.

When she first met Tavros, she would admit that she had liked him. He was sweet and kind like all others of his caste and she liked playing Fiduspawn with him. Granted they could only do it while dreaming but she enjoyed it. She liked Tavros.

But over time she began to notice. She saw the way her Bro looked at him, got a little too handsy and always smiled a little too much. Gracie may have needed glasses, but she was no fool. She was no motherfucking fool.

Soon a resentment began to settle in her hemopusher for the brown-blood. She began seeing him less and less, ignoring him whenever he reached out to her on Trollian. Finally it became too much and she had nearly broken her keyboard in her hysterical responding.

TC: Motherfucker quit tryinG to Get all up in Me and My bro's chill!

She had logged off after that and refused to get back on for another week. By then the guilt had begun to eat at her. Tavros didn't deserve her mirth. Didn't derserve her ill treatings or her wrath. He already had someone up that barkbeast trunk with that blue-blood bitch on the other line.

So she went on Trollian and begged for his forgiveness, telling him she didn't know what the hell got into her pan and made the noise she sent at him. She hadn't meant any of it. She was just mad at some other shit and he was within her means of contact at the moment.

Tavros, being the docile little sweetie he was, gave her no grief and was glad that he hadn't made her upset and that they could keep playing Fiduspawn together. She was glad too, despite there being a tiny little spark in her pan that still sent out some hate for the lowblood. She ignored it for a good while, enjoying the peace that had returned between them for the time being.

One day however, she knew something was wrong with her quadrants when while visiting her bro and Tavros on Prospit they had decided to go and find some food. They found a dandy sandwhich salesman who asked for no money and handed the two boys their respected treats of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. Gracie went for the meat and cheese and her bro spoke up about it.

"How come you ain't getting your feed on one of these miraculous fuckers here, sis?" He pointed to his treat where she could see the sticky sweet substances between the slices of bread. Deep, dark grape jelly smashed together with rich, thick peanut butter.

Something about that just didn't sit right with her.

"I just ain't lookin' for no reason to clean my teeth again, bro."

"Aw, c'mon. You don't even want a taste?" He offered and she shook her head, scooting away as if the thing offended her in some form and looking at it with disdain.

"I ain't gonna like it."

"How do you know?"

She frowned and took a bite of her snack and thought while she chewed. How did she know? She never had it before. She was acting like a wiggler yet something was telling her not to do it. That those two things didn't belong together. She was all types of fine with trying the jelly. She would eat of a jar of the stuff if she had to.

"I just do."

"C'moooon, sis."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Gamzee all but pushed the sandwich in her mouth trying to get her to taste, the younger flailing about to get away from the food while she cursed loudly.

"I don't wanna!"

"Yeah, you do!"

"No!"

She finally tore away, hovering out of her brother's reach and ready to bolt should he try and fly up to her. But the other just blinked and looked up at her and shrugged before taking another bite.

"Fine, have it your way, sis. But what's up with you missing out on these miracles?"

She didn't even realize she had an answer before it was coming out.

"Cause I hate all that peanut shit, bro! It ain't fuckin' right and it don't belong!"

It dawned on her what she said in a second, and took another to realize what she had said without intentionally saying it outright. It made her freeze in horror before obsconding the fuck out of that situation and back to her respective dream-planet.

Once upon a time Gracie Makara tried to be black for Tavros Nitram.

Once upon a time.

Once upon a time was a very long time ago.

Looking back on it while she floated over Fabric and Glow, she realized just how much of a wiggler she had been acting like.

Over something that probably wasn't even a caliginous crush.

Looking back on it while she sat in front of a computer on the meteor waiting for the Reckoning to come, she realized that she was still harboring these feelings. They were far from caliginous and she didn't need a Seer to tell her what it was.

Gracie wasn't black for Tavros.

Gracie was jealous.

Jealous of the way they hung out; jealous of the way her bro acted around him; jealous of the way Tav got his attention before she did.

And she had admitted it. To herself and to Tavros one time while she visited his planet.

She had admitted it to Eridan when her boredom had her thinking and that memory popped up fresh and dandy in her mind. A quick message to her moirail and they were having a feels jam within a cave that she had deemed her Hive for the game, nestled deep in a pile of cotton and satin scarves.

But that was a long time ago.

And this is a story she's already had to tell once before.

Her name is Gracie Makara.

And she is dead.

Chapter Text

Be someone else.

 

You are now the deceased's Moirail. You already know his name because he has already been introduced. But let's recap just in case.

 

His name is Eridan Ampora, and he is clown hunting.

 

It sounds like something Maryam or Pyrope would say. It was stupid but in all sense of the truth.

There are nine trolls on this rock. Nine trolls and two humans. But he knew that number should gave been ten. There should have been ten Cod damn trolls here. His fingers twitched, rings clacking together momentarily in anxiety.

 

That bastard had to be somewhere around. He couldn't hide forever. No matter how much he tried.

 

There was no word to explain how much Eridan hated Gamzee. The feeling was too black to be pitch. This was crystal rage and the pure want to see that clown's blood in a puddle with bits of his broken skull floating around in it. It was those kind of thoughts he would go and find his moirail for but he couldn't do that anymore.

 

They've only been traveling for a week and the hole in his diamond still felt fresh. The clown poured salt in the wound by just breathing. He only made it worse by just being alive. The Prince ground his teeth together to the point he could taste his blood in his mouth at the bitter black licorice thoughts in his pan.

 

He remembered seeing Nepeta and Equius just suddenly appear out of fucking nowhere with an arrow through Zahhak's leg. Just above the knee. It could be removed and he could still walk. But then the oliveblood went off about Gamzee flipping his lid and that Equius would have been choked had--

 

Damnit he couldn't even think of her name. It only made the urge to kill Makara stronger.
Because how fucking dare he.

 

How dare he take away the life of someone so important to so many people.

 

She was his Moirail.

 

She was his sister.

 

And now she was dead. She didn't even get to come back. Saving Equius and Nepeta justified for a heroic death enough and she left this plane of existence for the afterlife. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

A low noise stirred him of the bleeding ink in his pan, his footsteps ceasing as he listened. Karkat had complained all he wanted that he was attempting moirail genocide, but he just looked at the nubby-horned troll in the eyes.

 

"I didn't see you stopping him from doin' the same, Kar." at had shut him up quick. Because no matter how much Vantas could argue he knew Eridan was right.

 

Gamzee had brutally murdered Eridan's moirail; his own sister. It was only fair that one moirail's life be avenged with another. The fact that they both happened to be of the same blood line and name was just coincidence.

 

Once again, he heard the sound. A deep, resonating honk coming from the vents. So he really was hiding? Coward.

 

"I know you're there," He hissed into the darkness, knowing that the lower Highblood could hear. "Get your clown-ass out here so I can kill you fairly."

 

There was a long moment of silence and then the sound of a vent swinging open and a weight that landed too light for how heavy it was. He could already make out the outline of his horns jutting out from the rat's nest he called hair. Gracie at least had the mind to brush hers. He wondered if that mess had ever seen a comb before.

 

"Hey, Eribro."

 

Disgust churned in his digestive sac. His lingo was too similar to Gracie's (or had hers been too similar to his?) he had no right to speak with it. He was speaking with stolen words.

 

"What brings you to a motherfucker's sight seein'?"

 

Stolen from the one person who he had given them to.

 

"You know exactly what." The clown's expression remained unreadable for a long while before a grin broke out on the smeared paint. He still hasn't fixed it and he didn't want him to. He could see the coagulated purple blood in the cuts to his face where Nepeta had gotten him good on the roof. She suffered a broken arm for it but that could heal. Death couldn't heal.

 

The taller of the two laughed, dark and bitter and as twisted as he was.

 

"Got a set of big ones comin' all the way up here for some pitch romancin' bro. Gotta admit. But hey, if that's what a brother's wantin' then--"

 

"I didn't come here to flirt pitch with you, you piss-poor excuse for a high blood!" He hadn't meant to snap but he was getting down to the last of his patience. "I came here to fucking kill you!"

 

He actually looked surprised, his hunch disappearing some and his eyebrows lifting up at his outburst. But then his sneer was back and he was laughing that Cod awful laugh again.

 

"Well now, if a brother's wants some motherfuckin' blood spilled, who the fuck am I to say no?"

 

Eridan hated how quick he was ready for a strife to the death, how unfazed he was to the fact that the blood on his hands was the same shade as his own. But Eridan had seen the damage. Saw the huge puddle of violet that accumulated in the hall and the drag marks across the floor. She had given it her all and in a last vain attempt had tried to actually crawl away before the job was finished.

 

Gamzee had yet to pull out a weapon, and so had he. He was still bottled up and another burst was already bubbling up.

 

"You don't care. Do you? You honestly just don't give a fuck she's dead?"

 

Now he had a wand. He alchemized the thing after he had found the body. This time, he was intent to use it. The light it gave off set the hallway with an eerie glow, illuminating the hellish features of the clown in front of him. He was a living daymare. A horror terror in troll skin.

 

"Why don't you shut up?"

 

It wasn't even really an insult but it was enough to set the sea-dweller off with a vicious yell and soon there was a hole where Gamzee once stood. But he knew better than to think it was over so soon. Another flicked of his wrist and another hole hopesploded into the wall. The Bard was fast with his flash-stepping and Eridan could hear the little voice in his head telling him to think rationally. But that voice would just have to be quiet for right now.

 

He was hell-bent on revenge for the death of his moirail. She had meant everything to him. And he had meant everything to her.

 

Somehow, Eridan managed to be one step ahead of the clown and caught his foot in a whip, tripping him up and sending him sprawling. He was thrown off, dazed by the sudden change in power but it was enough.

 

Violet blood splattered across the wall as Eridan smashed his fists into Gamzee's face, breaking his nose on impact. The yowl that he had let out was some sort of sick symphony for the Prince but it was hardly enough. He needed to see this clown dead by his own hands. He wanted to see him lying in a pool of his own blood just as he had left her.

 

"YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!"

He didn't realize he was yelling until he suddenly needed oxygen. All he could see was the way more and more blood gathered on his fist and the wall and Makara, but he just won't die.

 

"YOU NEVER DESERVED HER! SHE WAS TOO GOOD FOR YOU!"

 

He was vaguely aware of Gamzee pulling at his cape in an attempt to pull him off, but true to the others aspect, rage was fueling his actions.

 

Why won't he die?

 

"SHE WAS YOUR SISTER!"

 

He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and throttled him against the floor, watching as his eyes rolled for a minute before focusing on him again; just barely.

 

"SHE WAS YOUR SISTER! AND YOU KILLED HER! YOU FUCKING KILLED HER!"

 

Gamzee was a bloody, gory mess, blinking to keep any blood from getting in his eyes while more just flowed from his busted nose and split lip. And for just a second, Eridan stopped, bloodied fist held high above his head as he seethed in rage. Fangs bared down to the lower blood and it was only now he realized he had been shaking. He was trembling from pent up anger and now it was gone and he was left strangely empty and unsatisfied.

 

"You killed her. You raised her and you killed her," He hissed, one hand still wrapped in the cloth of the clown's shirt tightly.

 

He seemed to have given up. Gamzee Makara looked absolutely defeated and So. Fucking. Done.
"Don't you think I know that.."

 

He had said it so quietly Eridan almost didn't hear, and he almost put his guard down before snarling.
"What?"

 

Gamzee ground his teeth and grabbed at Eridan's wrist, not removing it but seeming to use it for leverage for something.

 

"I said don't you think I know when I got my motherfuckin' murder on? You thinkin' I don't remember seein' my sis all up and full of fear for her bro? You think a motherfucker can just forget something like that?"

 

He was frowning through his own blood as he glared up to the sea-troll.

 

"Motherfucker can't be forgettin' nothin' like that. No matter how hard he fuckin' tries."

 

The confession threw Eridan for such a curve-ball that he actually staggered off the bloodied troll beneath him, giving him the opportune moment to attack. Yet he stayed right where he was. Broken and bruised and just pathetic.

 

Eridan hated to think that Gamzee may have actually felt guilty. He tried to murder two people and only succeeded in one. But there was no way he felt guilt.

 

"..don't take this as some sort of pitch-flirting," Ampora growled, narrowing his eyes and stepping away from him. He was done. He wasn't nearly satisfied but the beating would suffice. For now.

 

"I will kill you. For her." Another two seconds of a stare down and then he was turning on his heel, cape fluttering behind him and going back the way he came. Kanaya took one look at him and stopped what she was doing to look over his hands. His rings must have put a number on Gamzee but now he was beginning to feel the ache in his knuckles.

 

Minor scrapes and a small cut on his finger. Nothing in comparison.

 

In all honesty, he was surprised Zahhak hadn't already taken care of him. Since the attempted murder on his and his moirail's life, he had become more resentful of the clown. No more of that blind adoration he had purely for his blood-color. Now he had seen the face through the makeup.

 

"It was incredibly stupid what you just did," She said as she cleaned off his jewelry and wiped down his hands. "You could have seriously been hurt."

 

He doesn't say anything and she doesn't press because they both know. They know if he hadn't gotten some sort of relief for his need of revenge he would have done somethin terrible. What that was they didn't know and perhaps that was the most terrifying part.

 

"Perhaps you should talk to Rose." He looks at her after the statement, which is really what it is rather than a question.

 

"Why?"

 

"I don't mean to make you think she'll replace Gracie, but having someone you can talk to could help. You're mourning and she can lend you her audial clots if she need to."

 

That sounded awfully pale to him, but Kanaya knew that no one could fill the hole in his diamond like how Gracie did. Besides, is Kanaya trusted rose enough with her flushed feelings than perhaps he could amuse her with a sad Prince's woes.

 

"Maybe you're right."

 

So after Kanaya sent a quick pester to the Rose human, Eridan found himself transportalizing to the library where she resided in most of her days. Usually with Kanaya or with the Dave human when Terezi wasn't taking his time. He was stepping off the platform by the time she looked up in some surprise. But then she gave a small smile and closed the book she had currently been busy in.

 

"Ah, Eridan. I was expecting you."

 

"I would hope so."

 

It wasn't necessarily a feels jam but it did feel good to just talk and vent and to let off everything that he had been bottling up. Rose just listened. The Seer gave no objections to anything he said, just nodding and listening. It may have been a bit pale, but he knew better. A desperate troll's need for the soft pap from the moirail he lost. That was all this was. All his confessing of anger and the want for revenge was just him mourning. He even told her about his recent confrontation with Gamzee. He told her how utterly disappointed he was.

 

And that he was confused.

 

Why hadn't he fought back?

 

No one was aware of what happens when someone who needs to mourn doesn't. They just fade away into the background. They disappear despite the fact they are living. They become ghosts, empty shells of who they once were.

 

No one realized that that is exactly what happened to Gamzee Makara.

 

At first it had been subtle; hiding in the vents and only coming out for Karkat. Then when the Cancer finally managed to get him to drop that habit the change in his personality was obvious. He drifted from room to room, his footsteps heavy and echoing on the walls and every time someone always turned their head. He hardly ever wore his makeup anymore. Or talked.

 

He didn't speak a word to anyone. Even Karkat had trouble breaking through his shell. The lazy eyed troll with the tilted smile was gone. What replaced him was something with a hollow stare and arms that hung limp at his sides as he walked. It was really more like he was floating. One moment no one would notice him, then a simply shift in peripheral vision and there he would be. Just in a pile of sad troll and horns.

 

He looked broken and defeated in every possible way. The bruises from Eridan had turned an ugly shade of violet and black as they healed, and those where he had cut him on his rings there were scars they were not noticeable beside the three jagged ones already marring his face. Vriska tried on numerous occasions to try and rile him up into doing something, but she was only ever met with a blank stare before he would roll back over and settle back down on the horn pile.
It was- sad.

 

Really sad. Seeing him so dejected and cut off from social interactions despite everyone trying to talk to him. Yes! Everyone! Nepeta and Equius included. The Olive-blood had tried poking him in the back gently with a mew of his name at first, then it became trying to role-play. Equius just kind of stood there and proceeded to tell him to get up because it wasn't right of his blood color. Karkat once physically tried to drag him from the pile only for Gamzee to end up looking even more pathetic sprawled half way on the floor.

 

No one knows what happened with Vriska. She had tried to use her powers in order to get him to move. It took a span of three minutes beginning to end. In those three minutes she had pressed her fingers to her temples, dug deep into the clown's mind, and then disappeared back to her room with what looked like tears in her eyes. She didn't want to talk about it and no one pressed. Not even Terezi.

 

So no one knew.

 

They were beginning to give up on his state of emotional disarray until Kanaya took a different approach. When she was sure he was alone in the pile she joined him rather than try and get him out. It took a few minutes of getting comfortable (or as much as she could) before she began to just pet him. She ran her fingers through his hair, careful not to pull any knots and tangles, and just sat there with him. She made a mental note to find a good comb and take it to the mass later, til then she was satisfied with just petting him at surface level, a soft hum on her lips.

 

He moved. He shifted closer until his head was in her lap and he held onto her like a lost wiggler to it's lusus. Had he been wearing makeup she would have worried over stains when he pressed his face into her abdomen, but he was bare-faced that night as he was most often now. She felt a spike of pity but waved it away. That was Karkat's job, not hers. But she couldn't help looking down at the poor, sad clown and feeling the need to want to hold him.

 

It was only when he willingly opened his arms for a hug did she give in, wrapping her slender arms around his bony frame and feeling the way his spine poked through his shirt. He must not have been eating.

 

Kanaya held the highblood close as she hummed, running her hand up and down his back in a soothing manner without it being too pale. Speaking of, she glanced over to the shadows of a corner, where the Cancer stood in concern and she waved him closer. Karkat was in the pile in half a second, holding his much larger moirail to his best abilities. Upon further inspection, Kanaya became painfully aware of the fact that the purple-blood was crying. He was trying to hold in his sobs against her shoulder but at the contact of his moirail, the flood gates opened and he clung to the smaller troll now, face twisted in agony as he choked on his own tears.

 

"Shoosh, it's okay. You're fine. It's alright," Karkat papped the clown gently, shooshing him in a voice much softer than his usual tone. The act was so disgustingly pale and affectionate, Kanaya almost felt like she didn't belong. A part of her told her to move, but another part countered with how awful of an idea that was. Gamzee needed much emotional support, that much was clear to Maryam.

 

I-I..I did s-something bad, B-Bro." Both were shocked by the low resonating tones of Gamzee's voice, almost forgetting how it sounded after so long without it. But the shock quickly subsided and Karkat papped his cheek.

 

"What is it? What did you do?"

 

Sad bloodshot eyes looked back at the Cancer and for a moment it looked like he was about to go back into his shell until Kanaya put a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Go on, you can tell us."

 

Fresh tears poured down the clown's cheeks as he sobbed, leaning into both of them heavily and shaking from the pent up guilt that had been gnawing at his insides, killing him from the inside out in no way sopor could.

 

"I didn't mean to," He hiccuped, the combined affection of his moirail's papping and Kanaya just being there made him want to open himself up, strip away layers of fake happiness until all that remained was the indigo tinted mass of regret that lay beneath. He felt exposed. But at least he felt something.

 

"What didn't you mean to do, Gamzee?" Kanaya asked but she already knew the answer. All three of them knew what it was.

 

"I killed her. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. She was my sister and I killed her! MotherFUCK I KILLED HER!"

 

He bellowed out his sin over and over, his volume staggering all over the place with Karkat's papping. He prayed every day on the rock they were on that something would end his miserable life so that he may see his grace again.

 

But he had tried. He had tried so many times on so many different occasions. He tried Terezi's noose. He tried Dave's sword and Karkat's sickle. Feferi's trident. He had tried it all.

 

No matter what, no matter how much blood his lost or how many holes his put in himself the Angels of Death never granted him their sweet mercy. He would fall into blackness that he would hope for so dearly to be death, only to wake up with dried blood on his hands and new scars to hide under his shirt.

He was stuck to wander this plane of existence alone without his saving grace. He was meant to live with his shame and guilt for all of eternity for he simply would not die.

By the time he had stopped crying he felt raw and miserable all over again and he just wanted to lie there like the pathetic idiot he was. With his moirail curled up beside him, he prayed one more time to whatever God would listen, that something come and take him away from this life and into the one beyond.

His name is Gamzee Makara.

And he has completely given up.

Chapter Text

She remembers days before the game. Back when she was young and she would sit by the beach with her bro with their lusus curled around them like a giant pillow. She remembers an arm curled around her with the waves' songs in her ears. She remembers looking up at her bro, who was just a little older, a little more wise, and smiling.

She remembered back when her brother had been kind. Sweet. Loveable.

That was a long, long, long, long time ago. That time was gone. And with it, the brother who would sit with her and read her stories and sing to her in the coon. That time has up and gotten it's leave on her. Sometimes, if she thinks really hard, really gets her pan into it, she could wake up back on that day. When she was just barely a grub and he took care of her.

But she has learned her lesson. And she is no longer the grub. Though she shouldn't, she takes great pleasure in spilling whatever version of him showed in the dream bubbles. Sometimes she stabbed him, other times she clubbed him to death just to let him know how it motherfucking felt. Ain't payback a bitch, bro?

A bitterness had begun to grow inside of her. A resentment for not only her bro, but for the Messiahs who promised her a world of mirthful wonder of which she would share with her bro. Instead, she is to sit and rot in a void where nothing exists. Not even time. She spends her day in the darkness, brooding in her thoughts and spitting out words of hate for one whom she had done everything for. Gave up her freedom for. GAVE UP HER MOTHERFUCKING LIFE FOR. She spills out her promise of revenge. Her oath that he will feel the pain she had when he had so rudefully ended her.

And then, like one of the angels she had been taught to praise and pray to, she hears a voice calling to her. It's not melodic or nice. It isn't at all. It's cackling and wicked, and downright wrong. But she follows it anyway. She follows the voice that pants a fuchsia path beneath her feet the more she obeys.

That what it tells her to do. Obey. Submit. Consume.

She finds the Empress herself, sitting atop her thrown with trident in hand and she grins a rueful smile. She has heard the young witch's plea for recompense and her highness is nothing if not generous and will do all she can to help. For a price that is.

"Swear to me," She had said. "Swear your deboation. And you'll get your way."

The Witch of Rage was never one to make a deal so quickly without thinking it through, weighing her options, perhaps contacting her moirail. But she can no longer do any of these things. Her heart is too black, her diamond too broken, her judgement too clouded. So she swears. She swears upon the Horrorterrors and their acid tears, the righteous figures of past that did the bidding of the Messiahs. She submits.

The next Breath she breathes is of crisp, cool air as her lungs as once again able to take it in. A Maid, a Life player, has given back the beat in her hemopusher, the rush back to the blood in her veins. She thanks the wicked sis as any polite troll would.

Then She slips under her Empress' control as the tiara is placed upon her head. The process does not take long, there is no fighting the harsh waves beating against her pan; dripping it's burnt wax commands into the fire and making it sizzle nice and hot.

Her Godly robes are a heretic red against her skin but she does not find the color blasphemous. In fact, it's beautiful. Like Her Empress. It was bright, bold, dangerous, powerful. Everything a good leader should be. Her highness grins all serene down at her, like she's her pride and joy and she's everything she ever wanted.

She follows her like the obedient darling she is, does her bidding when she asks, and stands by her side when she is not. Often times she asks to take the tiara off because it gets itchy.

"Only if you want your pan fried!" The Empress would respond before laughing, Well, the Witch liked her pan un-fried, thank you very much, and she was content to keep it that way. So the tiara stayed on.

Somewhere along the way, the Witch of Space was taken from them, stolen from Her Highness' command. It infuriated the Witch of Rage and she begged the woman to let her retrieve her fellow Class mate. The sharp slap that stung her face was one she would never forget and the gilled-troll snarled down.

"You want to go out there and get your glubbin' guts spilled? You a guppy! You ain't a clue how to fight without getting yourshellf krilled! You stay here where you survive, hear me? You stay!"

So she did. The Witch of Rage remained by her Condesce's side while bitter thoughts of bloodshed filled the holes in her pan. Her mind wasn't that broken, just enough that came with being a follower for the Messiahs, nothing like- his. He was broken. He was fucked up in more ways than one. How could she have wasted her time on someone so utterly hopeless?

Lessons were learned the hard way she supposed.

Though she isn't sure how much time had passed, she had met a Life player. The Maid was under her Condensce's control, just like the Witch. She was next to be taken, right after The Witch of Space. The Witch of Rage begged and pleaded to follow her fellow subordinate onto the platform where her co-players were. She begged that this be the time when she enact her revenge and rip away her brother's Life Breath.

Her Highness mulled over the Witch's pleas for quite the long Time (or was it even that long? Time wasn't her aspect nor did she care about it). Finally, after what felt like forever, The Empress gave her Witch her permission.

"Go on and get yourshellf krilled. It'll teach you a lesson in patience."

After thanking her Empress, the Witch fled to Land of Mounds and Xenon. She was met with some of her fellow coplayers and a weird sprite-cat-thing. None of them mattered to her however. She was quick to locate the object out of place. Why did that idiot put himself into a fridge? Whatever.

Before she could make off with the fridge, she was stopped by the Witch of Life and Rogue of Heart. They proclaimed how happy they were to see her alive, then questioned why she looked like the Jane-human with her red clothes and tiara. She claimed that she had seen the true light, realized her mistakes and in order to correct them joined along side her Empress. When Rogue asked her what she was doing with the fridge, she replied that it was none of her motherfucking business and she should really keep her trap shut.

Without another word, Witch of Rage stole the fridge and it's inhabitant and warped out of there to some other planet. She paid no mind to the huge river of lava around them. She dumped the fridge and The Bard of Rage bounced out like a spring ball on concrete. Fucking hilarious is what it was.

"Hey there, big bro."

He seemed confused for only a split second, then she saw his face break out into the biggest grin she had ever seen. He looked so motherfucking happy. As if he didn't see the blasphemous red of her clothes, he opened his arms wide asking for a hug. He was met with her crushing grip on his throat as her glare instead of a returned smile.

How dare he ask for embrace when he himself had done nothing but given her death's hug and stolen her Life's warmth! Witch of Rage only tightened her hand around the Bard's wind-pipe as she seethed in Rage (how fucking ironic was that?).

"Who gave you the motherfuckin' shame globes to be up and givin' me a hug?! WHO GAVE YOU THE MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT, BRO."

She could feel the Rage slithering deep into her pan, whispering it's awful voices in her ears, mixing in with the red of her Empress and creating a stick-sweet mess of Iron and Indigo. Disgustingly beautiful.

"G-Grac-"

"YOU'VE NO RIGHT TO BE SPEAKIN' MY NAME!" She threw him. The Witch took the Bard by her hold on his neck and thew him across the rock. He bounced and came oh so close to falling in the lava. Damnit.

"P-Please..." He was begging. For what? For motherfucking what. Death? Mercy? Forgiveness? He was bound to only get one of those things.

"Ain't a clue what it is you be beggin' for, brother," The Rage player hissed as she stalked closer. The black and red of her eyes had been traded for various shades of violet and pink, flashing back and forth until one got dizzy. When the hell had she learned to control her Voodoo's? "But you best save them beggings for the Angels. Let them hear your pathetic plea's cause I sure as hell don't want them clogging my audio clots!"

She was so ready to just fucking toss his ass into the Jade-Human's active volcano and watch his skin bubble and boil and hear his screams of pain and begs of mercy.

Hold on a minute, who the hell gave her feels water permission to be making it's way down her cheeks? She sure as all fuck didn't! She also didn't give right for her hands to be shaking as much as they did as the Witch grabbed the Bard by his collar and shook him as he were a ragdoll.

"WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO EARN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING ATTENTION?!" She screamed at him, baring her teeth and gnashing at him. "BE A FUCKING MUTANT?! OR SO LOW YOU ARE SHIT?! YOU ARE LITERAL PHYSICAL SHIT?!"

He may have been crying too but it was hard to tell with the Rage building up behind her ganders, making her see their blood color and only that. She throttled him on the ground, hands back around his throat and squeezing until she felt her fingers grow sticky with blood and he made some sort of garbled noise.

"I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU!" She sobbed, picking him up and smashing his head against the pavement, then again. And again. And again. And again.

"I FUCKING DIED FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" She was about to throw him back down, hear the satisfying smack of his skull against the cement until he seemed to remember he had arms. Then suddenly she couldn't breathe and just like that the little purple webs in her vision vanished, leaving her to stare into psychotic eyes.

The Bard had always had a natural advantage of the Witch. He had always been bigger, stronger, faster than her. He lift her up when he stood, towering over her even with their small difference in height. He hoped she enjoyed her little moment where she might have gotten a few good throws in, but he had enough playing games.

"Big motherfuckin' mistake, sis." He rumbled, talon like claws tearing through the tough skin of her neck like it was paper and she was scrambling to rid herself of them. But it only made him squeeze harder until she screamed in pain and he grinned in sick satisfaction.

Just as she had him, The Bard threw The Witch back onto the main land, flashstepping just some feet where she made impact. The dirt was kicked up from her skidding and the red of her robes was stained with it. The Witch of Rage coughed, violet tears skidding down her cheeks as she hefted herself up on trembling arms. It had been a long while since she last felt fear, but now she seemed to remember and wanted nothing more than to remove it from her biscuit as of the moment.

Something about this situation seemed familiar, though she couldn't quite tell why. All the Witch could think to do was crawl. Crawl away until she was safe or she could stand and fly.

But the Bard seemed to have been two steps in front of her, and he had one delicate wing in his grip not a moment sooner. The Witch could not remember a time when she had felt a pain so severe then when the Bard tore her wings from her back, the connective tissue tearing and ripping and sending a splitting agony up her calcium column.

She had fallen silent in her despair, tears pouring down her cheeks and ruining the Harlequin makeup that she wore. She could feel her blood staining her robes and dripping onto the ground in thick pools of violet where she soon joined it when her arms gave out underneath her. Now she remembers why this is familiar. Because suddenly they are not surrounded by Lava or on a player's Land. There are in the cold and dark hall within the Lab and the smell of blood is so strong. So terribly strong.

She knows why this is familiar as she turns and see a looming shadow, spiraling horns too much like her own sprouting out from a mess of curls that she shared. The object in his hand was already blotted with violet drops, and he raised it over to bring it down. Once. Twice. Three times.

Bro! That is not her speaking but it is her voice. Bro, stop! STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING ME! GAMZEE!

The Witch knows why this is familiar...

Gracie rose once more on shaking arms, finding back sobs as she turned and looked up to the looming shadow above her. The heat of the lava only makes her wound burn more. It also hurts when Gamzee is suddenly stabbing her, her blood staining her own knife as it pierced through her robes and her skin and straight into her bloodpusher. He's got this wild look in his eyes like the one he had back on the meteor.

Back when he killed her.

"B-Bro...you're...m-motherfuckin'...hurtin' me.." Royal purple spills over her lip as he yanks the knife back and stabbed it into her abdomen and she's leaning heavily on him.

She is in pain. This death is worse than when he was beating her. Her head getting split was at least over quickly. Bleeding out took time.. and hurt.

"Bro," She sobbed, weakling grabbing onto him as her vision began to fade again. "Please..."

The Witch took one last look to her twin before the blade was suddenly stripping across her throat.

Chapter Text

Oh, dear brother, you'll have me by your side where ever you go.

What have you done.

We are twins from the start, and our likeness surely shows.

WHaT hAve YOU DONE.

I will love you forever, no matter what you do...

"Gracie...?"

I will do all that you say. Even the evil way...

"GRACIE!"

Let's recap what happened.

The ground was splattered--stained--with royal purple blood. It is on his hands. It is in his mouth and on his clothes. Why is there so much B L O O D.

He feels sick but there is nothing in his system to try and vomit so he dry heaves on the ground. Nothing comes out. He wasn't hoping anything would.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. youkilledheryoukilledheryoukilledherIkilledherIkilledherIkilledherIkilledher!

G R A C I E

His throat burns as he gags, throwing up nothing but acid as it comes up is protein chute. The smell of blood is too strong. Horrifyingly strong. And it's hers and he knows it's hers and there is nothing he can do now because he killed her.

A G A I N.

His insides hurt. His throat hurts. His blood-pusher hurts. Gods, why does everythinghurt?

He knows the tears are coming and he doesn't try to stop them. He hasn't cried in so long but these tears don't bring relief. They bring more pain. And he screams. He screams but he can't hear anything and he just wants something to make sense. He wants this madness to stop.

He doesn't want to be a monster.

He just wants Gracie back again.

His legs move on their own. But he isn't feeling the shuffle. If he was honest--he can't feel anything anymore. She took it all with her. She took his last moments to feel and now he is numb and everything feels hollow and empty. He isn't sure when he finds him, but when he feels the wind and he sees that little spark of blue he gravitates toward it.

Terezi is dead.

Gracie is dead.

Everyone is dead.

But John. John-boy managed to stay alive. He doesn't know how or why and John's saying something. Asking what he's doing. What happened to him. He can't answer, he just looks and sees that Teal-sis gave him some instructions.

John-boy says that he can time jump and Terezi wants him to 'F1X TH1S.'

Fix this. Fix this? John could--fix this?

He wants to feel ecstatic by this revelation. But he cannot feel anymore. So he just takes the scarf from the Heir's hands, bites down on a finger and writes in his own blood like Pyrope had done. He knows one thing he wants fixed. He's wanted it fixed for so long.

MoMent.

DoN't LeT ME kIlL hEr.

Then he hands it off because God knows John can actually do what he can't. Then Johnny poofs away to go and fix his mistakes--their mistakes. But hopefully his. Hopefully he can do good.

Hopefully he can save Gracie.

The world begins crumbling around him some time later, the pieces falling out of place as the tiny bits begin to break. He doesn't try to run. He just slips and falls through the cracks of the universe into the darkness. He's not entirely sure how many times he's had to replay this, because he can't die and he's watched so many time lines restart and begin anew, but he knows to just wait. To just wait for the heaviness to return while his memories get rewritten.

He hopes this time it won't be so bad. That when he wakes up everything will be okay.

He highly doubts it.

---

She wakes with a start, sitting up and clutching at her throat because she is scared. She is scared the knife will still be there and he would kill her again.

But he was only killing her because she had tried to kill him. Why did she try that again? She just remembered being angry. So very angry. Why was she angry?

Her memories are colliding in her pain and she can't figure out which ones go where; Did he slit her throat and then bludgeon her? No that wasn't right. The bludgeoning came first she was sure. God there had been so much blood. There was always blood.

Her throat burns with tears as she sobs, smearing her makeup once more as her Rage was replaced with guilt. Sorrowed clawed at the insides of her skull, forcing their talons into her mind and making her relive it all again and again.

He was her brother. Why would she ever want to hurt him?

Don't you remember, Gracie?

Remember what. What was she forgetting?

Remember what he almost did to them?

Them? Them who? Who was-

oh. Them.

You were only trying to help remember? That's all you have ever wanted to do. Was help. Do you remember now, Gracie?

---

John is so done with trying to understand Trolls. The second he thinks he's finally gotten them down, those colorful freaks just go off again and send him right back to square one with the question 'what the fuck just happened?' on his breath. As he jumps through passed conversations and game he cannot help but think about the set of directions he had been given by Terezi. And.. Gamzee. The last one was what really got under his skin (or what really got his -- GOAT!).

"I thought he was supposed to be a crazy murder clown?" He mumbled to himself while looking down at the bloody scarf in his hands. "Mom-ent? Oh. No, wait that says moment." He isn't sure what Moment Gamzee wanted him to fix -- he also isn't sure who She was. But he remembers how the troll had looked when he wrote the message. "He looked really sad," Egbert muttered. "Wait, can trolls even get sad? Is that something they can feel?"

He finishes with everything Terezi wanted him to do relatively quickly. It makes him a little sad to see her so out of her element regarding Karkat (which was nice to see him, and hug him! Woo!). It was good to save Vriska and meet all the others. Then he's stuck on the last of his checklist, literally and figuratively scratching his head.

MoMent.

"'Don't let me kill her'?" He looks out to the void for a moment, frowning. "I should see what he did first.." He flashes back to the events of MoMent. Just to see what the hell it was Gamzee did...

He wasn't prepared for the Carnage. John knows now why Gamzee wanted him to fix this particular moment. He knows how easy it would be to just jump back again and distract Gamzee, allowing Gracie to flee with the other troll (What was his name again? He couldn't remember but he bled blue). But John has a better idea. Something he thinks he will work better. Least he is hoping it will work better. He goes back just a bit further and takes out his Dad's PDA.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering terminallyCapricious[TC]

EB: hi gamzee!

EB: you dont know me but i know you

EB: well i sort of know you

EB: i know what you want me to do anyway :B

TC: UuUuUuUuHhHhHhHh

TC: WhAt?

EB: haha! sorry that probably made no sense whatsoever

EB: but ive actually got something serious to talk to you about

TC: No ShIt? WeLl If A MoThErFuCkErS gOt SoMeThInG hE wAnNa Be GeTtInG oFf ThEn i CaN bE lOaNiNg An EaR.

EB: wow i think i like this version of you way better!

EB: but no seriously. i need to talk to you about your sister

EB: and dave

TC: WoAh.

TC: WaIt.

TC: HoW dO yOu KnOw AbOuT gRaCiE?

EB: long story

EB: anyway dave is going to send you something that is going to make you really mad

EB: like really really mad

TC: WhAt'S hE dO?

EB: he makes fun of your religion because hes sort of an asshole

EB: actually not even sort of

EB: he really is an asshole sometimes but he's still thirteen at this point in time

EB: but that's not the point

TC: ThEn WhAT tHe FuCk Is? YoU aIn'T bE mAkInG a WhOlE lOt Of SeNsE hErE.

EB: right yeah sorry

EB: uhm

EB: i dont really know how to sugar coat this but

EB: you sort of end up

EB: killinggracie

TC: WhAT :o?!

EB: dont freak out!

EB: but what dave sends you starts a domino affect that eventually leads to you clubbing your sister in the head

EB: multiple times

TC: WhY yOu TeLlInG mE tHiS?

EB: because you asked me to stop you

TC: AwW fUcK. Is ThIs Be OnE oF tHoSe TiMe ThInGs KaRbRo WaS gEtTiNg On AbOuT?

EB: haha yeah it is

EB: basically what im trying to say is if you watch the video dave sends you

EB: talk to gracie

EB: i dont know a whole lot about you two specifically

EB: but apparently after she died you sort of got really depressed? and felt really guilty about it?

TC: HeLl YeAh I bE gEtTiNg My GuIlT oN.

TC: MoThErFuCkEr Up AnD bE tElLiNg Me I'mMa Be HuRtInG mY sIsTeR :o(

TC: BuT uUuUhHhH

TC: WhAt ExAcTlY i Be TaLkInG tO hEr AbOuT?

EB: from what i could gather you two are each others

EB: damnit what did you call it again

EB: <>

EB: that one ^

TC: Uh

TC: MoIrAiLs?

EB: yeah thats it! moirails

EB: youre essentially each others moirails right?

TC: I dOn'T

TC: FeEl CoMfOrTaBlE tAlKiNg AbOuT gRaCiE lIkE tHiS

EB: do you want her to die yes or no

TC: :o( No

EB: okay then

EB: you dont have to watch that stupid video in fact i highly recommend not doing that

EB: also stay away from lil cal

EB: he apparently also plays a really big part in this

EB: just stay close to gracie

TC:...

TC: If I bE dOiNg ThIs ShE wOn'T dIe?

EB: she won't die

EB: hopefully

TC: :o(

EB: think about it like this

EB: you getting angry = gracie dies

EB: you not angry = gracie lives

EB: kapiche?

TC: UuUuHhHh

EB: that means do you understand

TC: Oh

TC: YeAh MoRe Or LeSs

TC: MoThErFuCkEr NeVeR wAs ToO gOoD wItH tHaT sChoOlFeEdIn ShIt

TC: BuT i ThInK i CaN bE pIcKiNg Up WhAt A BrOtHeRs PuTtInG dOwN.

EB: so long as you have some idea of what im talking about here

EB: i think i might have talked to her at one point in the dream bubbles

EB: you two had a really hard childhood (grubhood?) and i kind of feel sorry for you

EB: but not in a moirail sort of way

TC: ThAnKs?

EB: what i mean is

EB: it just seems obvious that you two really care about each other

EB: and i can relate to having an ecto-twin!

EB: theyre the best arent they?

EB: gamzee?

EB: oh god did dave send you the video

TC: WhAt?

TC: SoRrY bOuT tHaT

TC: MoThErFuCkEr JuSt Be NeEdInG a MiNuTe To ThInK

TC: LoTtA sHiT yOu Up AnD dUmPeD aLl OvEr HeRe

TC: BuT yEaH. EcTo-TwInS aNd SHiT

TC: ReAl MoThErFuCkIn MiRaCuLoUs :o)

EB: i know right?

EB: hey i have to get back to my own timeline

EB: dont go psycho murder clown on everyone you hear?

TC: HeH yEaH

TC: ThAnKs JoHn-Bro

EB: no problem gamzee!

ectoBiologist [EB] stopped pestering terminallyCapricious[TC]

John sat back once he had put the PDA away and breathed a sigh of relief. He hopes, deep down, this conversation with Gamzee will rewrite Gracie's death. He hopes she lives and she and Gamzee make it out of this together. After spending three years on the ship with Jade he could empathize the troll. Sure, he and Jade might not have grown up together, but he had always sort of looked up to her as a kind of sister figure, and then upon learning that she actually was his sister only solidified that. It makes her Death in the other timeline all the more difficult, and Terezi stealing her shoes even more deranged.

He'll stick around a little while later to see if things actually change.

He really hopes he did the right thing.

He highly doubts it.