time to talk about ladystuck! since names have finally been revealed: i wrote home is not an island for vastcroak and actually had a great deal of fun doing it after getting over my fears of knowing i had to write rose lalonde.

coming up with the idea involved a lot of frantic ‘what do i do’ing to a lot of people; taz helpfully reminded me to ‘stick to what you know’ and that is why jade teaching rose how to swim very nearly featured, and also why rose only gets about three lines (SORRY, SORRY). 

it was nearly illustrated the whole way through but unfortunately my house decided to flood the night before the entire thing was due and i gave up on illustrating to get the ending finished instead! i had about three at the time and rats, i’ve deleted them, otherwise i would have shown you the one of jade wondering if rose is actually a gothic witch octopus princess; for now, here:

my favourite one, that i ended up going with in the end. 

i cannot draw dogs for the life of me. 

ANYWAY;

i also wrote a quick treat for urbananchorite titled 8-7, written in about five minutes for the purpose of making her laugh because it’s about our dreadful AU, new zealandstuck. taz, i hope you know i deliberated long and hard on whether to make the last line of the fic hyperlink directly to world in union, and i’m really glad that you enjoyed it because iona and i cackled a lot while i was writing it.

look, taz, roach, you give so much, so i’m gonna give a little back. thank you for all the hemostuck! sorry this is bollocks. 

hemostuck feat. fef & eridan
word prompt: sing

her voice is throaty and horse in the moonlight and it is this that wakes him from an addled rest, eyes gummed together with b-grade sopor and sleep. she is singing a shanty he hasn’t heard since he was a wriggler, and he follows the sound with heavy footsteps, sluicing slime from his shins as he heads for the ablution trap. the water is cold and wet and salty in his mouth. he spits it over his forearms and scrubs with a handful of sea sponge, and by the time he is out again, wet hair dripping against his neck, his skin is a dull, irritated purple in places.

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watching john read certainly is something. dave comes home and dumps his stuff by the door and he is in the midst of playing the can i really be bothered to untie my shoes or should i continue to wrestle with them for five more minutes game, when john’s voice greets him in a great, awed gasp.

he is curled up on the couch. he is reading harry potter. this is the first time he has read the fifth book, and dave knows this because karkat had informed him of such with one disgusted, scandalized txt message, that rose had backed up rather earnestly. wizard fanfiction, jesus christ.

he keeps an eye on john the whole time he is curled in a chair opposite, computer warm in his lap and google image open at ‘cute birds’. john flicks pages with gusto, and he gasps, and he laughs, and he groans in exasperation. it’s annoying how interesting he makes the story sound. it’s order of the phoenix for crying out loud, it is arguably the worst book in the entire series and karkat would have had something to say about that. karkat would have told him book five has so much romantic subplot in it, which is absolutely central to character development, dick, except that karkat isn’t john, and john isn’t going to fight him for thinking ootp is the worst.

so he says so, and john answers, “shut up, this is getting good,” and throws a cushion at him.

because i get horrifically bored at work.

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