Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You really didn’t mean to have this happen. It just kind of… did. But you’re not going to say you wish it didn’t happen. Let’s rewind a bit to set the scene.

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and earlier this night you were hunting lusii for Gl’bgolyb, to make sure it doesn’t release the Vast Glub, a terrifying sound that holds the potential to kill all trolls with blood lower than fuchsia. It’s your duty as the Orphaner, a title passed down to you by your ancestor, to basically save the entire race from a threat they barely even know about. It is also your duty as the moirail of the heiress, who prefers to see as little bloodshed as possible.

You were engaged in a fierce battle with a Batsh, a type of lusus that resembles a night flap-beast, although much larger and white, as is the norm with most lusii. It was giving you quite the run for your currency, as it had landed a few blows on your trusty Skyhorse and yourself. You had also injured it a bit, mainly on its underside.  You readied Ahab's for another blast, power surging to its barrel, as your lusus dodged the blows the Batsh threw at it. Once your weapon was charged, you fired, landing a hit on its wing and forcing it to the ground. You instructed the Skyhorse to follow it, charging Ahab's yet again to deliver what would hopefully be the final blow.

The lusus was trying to escape into the lush jungle nearby, leaving sand stained with olive in its wake. You watched it struggle and cry out, before firing the fatal blow. It fell with a screech that grated your auditory clots, before hitting the ground, unmoving. You dismounted to inspect it. It would make a satisfactory meal for Gl’bgolyb, and would be the last one for today. As you attempted to drag it to the Skyhorse, a small cry, almost like a mewl, froze you in your tracks. You glanced around, trying to find the source, when yet another cry, much weaker than the one before, is heard. You stared at the dead lusus, before putting it down and inspecting it.

And that’s when you saw it. A small grub, barely larger than your fist, drenched in blood, clinging onto the lusii’s neck. It has an olive body, unsurprisingly since the lusus had the same blood color, and two small nubs which reminded you a lot of Karkat. A small mess of slick black hair covered its eyes, making it impossible for it to see. You gingerly picked it up, the sudden contact with your cold skin making it jolt. Now, this isn’t anything you haven’t seen before; many grubs were attached to the lusii you’ve killed. Most died with them, or fell into the sea, but there have been a few cases where one was on its guardian’s carcass. Whenever this had happened, you’d removed it from the lusus and sent it away, or gave it to Vriska to feed Spidermom. But this was the first time one cried out, and the sound made your expanding and collapsing bladder based aquatic vascular system practically melt .

Now, you could’ve let it flee into the jungle, or given it to Vriska. If you had done either of these, you most likely would’ve forgotten about after a few hours. But in the moment, you did what you felt you had to do, instincts controlling your pan. You might’ve also had a bit of a say in the decision, not that you’d tell anyone such.  You placed the grub in your scarf, before instructing your lusus to grab the Batsh. You mounted on him, and another cry rang out, this one more like a whimper. You panicked for a brief second before doing the first thing your thinkpan told you to do. You shoosh it. Not in a pale sense, but in a guardian sense. You remember your lusus doing it when you got too fussy as a wriggler. And surprisingly, it worked. The grub quieted down, and you went off to dispose of the corpse.

And now we’re in the present. You’re wiping the blood off of the grub with a white rag, which is quickly getting stained olive. Your scarf also has some blood on it, which will be hell to get out later, but you’ll deal with it. You try to be as gentle as possible, trying not to cause any discomfort to it. It’s hair starts to fluff up, and you move on to its body.  You’re getting sick of calling the grub it though. It’s not some fucking object! It’s a living creature! It , at the very least has a gender. You’ll find it out after you get the little guy fed and dried. It squeaks as you rub its stomach with the cloth, it’s tiny legs scrabbling around. Must be sensitive or somethin’.

After getting the grub dried, you try to locate something for it to eat. What do grubs eat anyways? Probably small stuff, considering they’re, well, small. You find some grubloaf hiding in the back of your cabinet and grab a slice, cutting it into little pieces with a knife. You make sure to keep an eye on your guest while you do so, to make sure it doesn’t fall off the counter. Once you have fifteen or so squares of the loaf, you put it on a plate and offer it to the grub. It sniffs it for a bit before taking a tentative bite. It chews it slowly, before going after yet another piece, then another. By the time it’s finished with the ‘feast’, there are only four squares left. You pick it up and place it on a pillow on the loungeplank, where it curls up and dozes off. It happened surprisingly quickly, although you aren’t sure how a grubs sleep cycle works. Time to stop calling the grub it, and maybe, maybe, give it a name.

You make your way to your respiteblock, where you told your lusus to stay until you walk in. You pet his snout a few times before speaking.

“Dad, I need you to help me wwith somethin’.” He looks at you as if saying ‘Go on’. “Y’see, I wwanna knoww the grubs gender.” He gives a snort, and you sigh in response. “Yes, the one that I brought back. Hey, don’t givve me that look! I just wwanna stop callin’ it ‘it’ in my thinkpan.” The Skyhorse rolls his eyes before making his way to where the grub resides. You stumble along, not expecting him to actually help out. Once he reached the grub, he sniffs it a few times, which draws a questioning glance from you, before carefully turning it over to reveal its underside. He gently rubs his snout across it, barely even touching the underbelly, before stopping and turning to you. A small gurgly sound leaves his snout, which you understand perfectly.

A female. The grub is no longer ‘it’, she’s now a ‘she’. You smile a bit and whisper a thanks to your lusus, then make your way to the mealblock. You open up the thermal hull and pull out a large amount of kelp. You call him into the block, then promptly feed the kelp to him. While he munches on the flora, you go back into the livingblock, before slouching into a splaysac. While you could get much comfier furniture, no chair can compare to a nice splaysac.

You jolt awake. Wait, you were asleep? Shit, you were supposed to watch the grub. A quick glance shows that she’s still asleep. You couldn’t have slept long in that case, maybe an hour or so. A soft ping echoes from your respiteblock, signalling someone is trolling you. You rise off of the soft object, and make your way towards the sound, becoming increasingly irritated at the repeated noise.

You quickly sign in, your fingers not missing a beat, and scroll down through your contacts to see who exactly is attempting to communicate with you. You don’t find out until you reach the very bottom. Feferi. You can do this, just have to act like you didn’t bring a grub into your home. This is fine, it’s going to be fine. There’s no way you’ll succumb to your moirail and confess your crime. Oh yeah, did you mention that yet? Trolls aren’t allowed to be in possession of grubs. Only jadebloods and lusii can fill that role. And for the few that actually knew of the word ‘kindness’ and took one in, they were culled by Her Imperious Condescension, also known as the empress of Alternia, and the most feared troll in all discovered planets.

You take a deep breath in and let it out, then click to open the conversation. As you said, you can do this. Just don’t tell her. Even though you’re obligated to tell her everything and she is obligated to tell you everything due to the bonds of your moirallegiance, you will make this work. Maybe...

Oh cod, what have you gotten yourself into...

Chapter Text

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

CC: -Erifin, I wanted to say tank you foar doing t)(is.

CC: It reely means a lot to me.

CC: Are you t)(ere???

CA: yeah im here

CA: sorry bout that i wwas doin somethin

CA: but its no problem fef

CA: im just doin wwhat a good moirail should do

CC: Would you like to come over in a bait?

CC: It's still dark out, so it s)(oaldn’t be much of a probubblem.

CC: Betides, it’ll get you in t)(e water foar once!

CA: sorry fef but i havve shit to do

CA: not to brush you off or anyfin

CC: It’s ocray! 38)

CC: Moby some ot)(er tide then!

CA: yeah maybe

CA: anywways i gotta go now

CA: dads gettin restless again

CA: i swwear he just keeps getting crankier as the swweeps pass by

CA: anywways ill talk to you some other time fef

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

Crisis averted. For now. You power down your husktop, not willing to risk someone else seeing your online status and deciding to bother you. After all, you have more important things to worry about. Like making sure a certain grub isn’t skittering around.

You hop out of the chair you were sitting in and navigate your way through the halls once more. Now that you’re thinking about your visitor, you realize this is probably the worst place for a grub. If she were to get lost, you’d never be able to find her. Seriously, why did you think this was necessary? Stupid highblood one-track mind.

You poke your head into the livingblock, confident that things are fine and oh god the grub’s gone what do you do.

You pick up the loungeplank where the grub rested moments before, nearly sending it flying in your hurry to do so. Nothing but dust underneath. You set it back down, stomping towards another corner before it even touches the ground.

You poke and prod at your surroundings and belongings, trying to be careful as you shift them around, as you have no clue where the oliveblood could be. How could you be so stupid? You couldn’t even keep an eye on her for half a second, and now she’s gone and what if you never even find her and-

A sound cuts you out of your frantic state. A mewl, the same one she used to grab your attention. And then another one. You follow them, prompting her whenever she grows quiet.

“It’s alright girl, I’m comin’ for ya. Just keep talkin’ and I’ll make sure you’re safe again.”

By the time you find her you’re practically dead on your feet from worrying, when everything was fine. She managed to find herself in the sink, the sides too smooth for her to climb out of. How the hell did she even get there?

You dismiss the thought for now, picking her up with both hands and stroking her head, the small hairs becoming displaced at your touch. A weight lifts off of your shoulders as you do so. ‘She’s here, she’s safe.’ The thought bounces around in your head as you take her to your respiteblock, the grub busying herself with chewing on one of your numerous rings.

She perks up as the door closes behind you, aware of her new surroundings. She tries to wriggle out of your grasp, clearly eager to explore. You keep your hold firm though. This place is not grub-friendly at the moment. As she continues to squirm, you move some potentially dangerous objects away. Random cables, weapons, and treasures find a new home in your closet, where the little bugger shouldn’t be able to get them.

Satisfied with the state of the block, you put her on the floor, sitting down to watch her. She scampers off immedietly, eager to get herself stuck in any and every corner and nook she comes across. She’s ambitious, you have to give her that.

After multiple rescues on your part, she seems to settle down again, curiously prodding at things instead of zipping around like a deranged meowbeast. This leaves you time to think.

What are you going to do with her? If anyone finds out you possess a grub, your head will surely be chopped off your shoulders before you could even think of an explanation. And what about her? This lifestyle wouldn’t be good for her, considering how suffocated and closed off she’d have to be. But you can’t find it in yourself to abandon her now. You saved her from being lusus food, and that’s enough for you to feel bad for her.

How do you care for her too? Trolls don’t teach you this stuff in schoolfeeds, since no one but jadebloods interact with the younger members of your species. Maybe you should call Kanaya about it?

No, she’d just be confused and hurt. Confused about how you got it, and then hurt at her final conclusion. She’d assume you stole her from the caverns, smuggling her away. Sounds like the plot of a weird novel with some pretty bad reviews if you ask yourself. You don’t know anyone else who’s familiar with grubs, though. You’re on your own on that front it seems. Look at you, being a pioneer for all non-jades. Someone should give you an award or something.

And what about a name and a sign? Usually the lusus chooses one, but she looks straight out of the trials. And signs. Who even was her ancestor? You can’t just give her some random sign, right? What if it’s someone else's. Ugh, your head is starting to hurt thanks to all of these future complications. For now you should think about the present. And the present requires a name to call her by.

She’s busy trying to pounce on a loose string from a pillow of yours when you grab her attention. She comes running to you, hearing your call. You pick her up and place her in your lap. She moves around a bit, before plopping back down, comfortable. You go back to running your fingers down her small body, realizing how tired you still are. Grubsitting’s hard work.

You’re on the brink of sleep, ready to join the grub in the land of dreams when it comes to you. The perfect name for a perfect grub.

Findan. Findan Ampora. No, she deserves her own line, her own destiny. She shouldn’t have to deal with the burdens that come with your name. Salvus. Findan Salvus. Beautiful.

You smile at her, before conking the fuck out.

Chapter Text

When you wake up, you’re sore as all hell. It feels like someone dragged you through the Furthest Ring, then thought playing ‘Attack-a-Digbeast’ with a crowbar on your joints was a good idea. In short, the floor is not a comfortable place, and you might have to invest in a slumberbunk in the near future to ensure that you don’t turn to stone in the middle of the day.

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head, and grimace as you hear them pop loudly, the bones protesting at the movement. Tiny pinpricks alert you to the mass in your lap, and you look down, finding Findan stretching her little grub body, arching it upwards like a meowbeast. A shiver courses through her, making her body shake all the way down to her nubby tail, and you stroke her back fondly. She leans into the touch, before turning towards you and squeaking insistently, waving her front two legs around in the air.

“What’s wrong, grub? C’mon, what the hell are you yammerin’ on about?” Unsurprisingly, Findan doesn’t answer; just continues to talk at you. Idly, you wonder if there’s such a thing as a grub translator. It’d make this a hell of a lot easier.

You look back down to find her tugging at your pant leg with her teeth, occasionally biting on it. You wrestle her away from the fabric, less than keen on having your clothes ruined by a mischievous little grub. She starts squeaking immediately, desperation hanging on the edges of her voice. “Hrm… You hungry, Fin? Is it breakfast time?” A sharp nip to your fingers settles helps you make your decision. Breakfast time it is.

With the oliveblood in your grasp, you rise, Findan latching onto your arm like a parasite the moment you’re at your full height. You smile inwardly at how she clings to you. It makes you feel wanted, in a sense. It’s remarkable how she’s taken a shine to you, really. Does this development mean you’ve been raising her correctly? You hope so.

One stack of grubcakes and a cooked cluckbeast ova later, the two of you are fully awake and energized, ready to take on anything the night may throw at you. As you wash the dishes, Findan attempts to play with a bit of shell left from you cooking, and you realize something. She needs something to entertain yourself with. You can’t have the little troll going around and prodding at anything that’s in sight, nor can you watch her every hour of the day. Besides, even you had little toys as a grub. A few plastic rings and plushes, sure, but it was still sufficient. Unfortunately, you threw them all out once you reached four sweeps, seeing no use in the playthings. Oh how you wish you had them now. Looks like a trip to the market is an order.

Grabbing Findan once more, you head to the ablutionblock, intent on bathing the two of you before going out in public. The sound of running water coming from the ablution trap peaks the grubs interest, but before she can scamper horns-first into the tub, you place her in the sink so you can strip down. Can’t very well bathe in clothes after all. You hear her trying to climb out as you do so, protesting at how she’s lost sight of you. You wrestle the fabrics off a bit quicker, not wanting to have her cry.

Her large, dark eyes are glassing over when you move back to her, and you attempt to calm her. “Fin, it’s alright. See, I’m right here. I’m here, and I ain’t goin’ to leavve you. Not on my owwn accord, at least, and please don’t start spillin’ tears, ‘cause I don’t knoww howw to deal with that and…” You ramble on for a bit, while cradling Findan close to your chest, praying to whatever deity that may or may not exist that it’s helping.

Eventually her eyes start to clear up again, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve never been good at comforting, but you’re even worse at helping with sorrow. Karkat’s made it blatantly clear that you should avoid attempting to console someone in that range of emotion, since last time you just made it worse.

You run a finger through her short, fluffy hair, then step into the tub, sinking down slowly. The water is too deep for Findan, considering her size and lack of gills, so you balance her on knees, only looking away when you’re certain she’ll be alright. As you busy yourself with lathering your hair with mango-scented shampoo and conditioner, she sticks a few of her tiny black legs into the water, yanking them back quickly and chirping when droplets fly into the air and onto her face.

She keeps herself occupied as you rinse the concoction out of your hair, becoming delighted as the water becomes white with suds. Then you squirt a bit of shampoo on your finger tips and apply it to her hair, and rub it in, being careful around the still-developing horns and her large eyes. It’s only when you start to rinse it out that you have a problem. She cries out in distress, and you swiftly start cooing to her, trying to get the rest of the soap off quickly. You have to hold her down, as she tries to get away from the cascade of water, even though she’d just end up submerging herself in more of it.

Eventually, you finish, and hold her to your chest once more, hoping that it’ll let her know that she’s safe, and no harm will befall her. Once the sniffles die down, you step out, get dressed, and mentally prepare yourself for the shitshow that is shopping.

Chapter Text

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? “I can keep a grub quiet,” you said. “I totally won’t have to duck into a corner every other second to make sure she doesn’t blow her own cover,” you said. What a load of poppycock. Past you was stupid as all hell, and you have the fatigue to prove it. This entire trip has been nothing but that. Frankly, you just want to go back to your hive, where you’re safe from being outed as a criminal.

You’ve made it through two stores within one hour, managing to purchase toys one might buy for a young friend; a few plushies, plastic trinkets, and an electronic gizmo that makes various strange noises that’ll be sure to grab Findans attention. And you still have other things you need to get, such as fabrics to turn into clothes for after her pupation, food that she might enjoy, essentials she’ll need later in life, and a couple of other things that could act as barriers for when you need to step out for a moment. Despite finding her, the world isn’t about to let you forget about your job as the Orphaner.

You sigh and rub a hand over your face, messing up the front of your hair. This whole lususing shtick is exhausting . No wonder this is limited to giant monstrosities with immense maternal and paternal instincts. A small squeak draws you out of your thoughts, and you reach your hand into your scarf, poking Findan’s cheek playfully, which produces a sound that might be laughter from her.

You weren’t willing to leave her alone at your hive, when you haven’t had a chance to lock up any potentially dangerous objects, and putting her in a pocket or bag was unthinkable. So scarf it was, regardless of how hard it was to judge the volume of her voice, and comfort her. Why’d she choose tonight to be talkative? Why now, when she’s right next to your auditory clots? You suppose it’s not her fault, but god damn does it make this whole expedition more taxing.

Currently, you’re on a bench in the middle of the building, a large potted plant behind you. Luckily, it’s a domesticated one, so you don’t have to worry about it biting your head off when you let your guard down. The bags holding your goods are settled on both of your sides, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. That’s one way to take ‘Shop until you drop’ literally. You’ll have to avoid going out until after Findan pupates to avoid this shit again.

As you try to scrounge up the motivation to get back on your feet and continue the trip, you don’t notice the elegant troll making her way towards you. It’s not until she speaks that you’re aware of her presence at all.

> Be the elegant jade.

Your name is Kanaya Maryam. Tailor, slaughterer of the undead, and the protector of a Mother Grub, the most important organism in troll culture. The Mother Grub is what helps your species reproduce, as pregnancy and oviposition have long since been taken out of the slurry by Her Imperious Condescension, the ruler of all trolls who’s notorious for culling any mutated troll to ensure the survival of your race. It is with buckets and genetic material that grubs are made by the Mother Grub, and it’s considered an honor to have one as your caretaker.

You were at the market to procure more sewing supplies, as a few of your friends have let their wardrobes go to the… less tasteful side of fashion. It was here that you spot one of your least close friends, Eridan Ampora. He looks completely exhausted, splayed out on a bench with bags flanking both of his sides. His hair is tousled, and his head's thrown back, horns dangerously close to being caught underneath one of the metal bars the bench was made of.

He doesn’t seem to notice you, which is surprising for the normally alert violetblood. You clear your throat before speaking. “Eridan. What a pleasant change of events.” He snaps up at the sound of your voice, and as you feared, hits his horns against the metal with a resounding clang .

He shouts a long string of curses, gathering unsavory looks from the shoppers around. He rubs the base of his horns, wincing as he does so.

“Jesus fuck Kan, givve someone a wwarning next time, wwill ya?” You smirk at him.

“I will attempt to do such, though I make no promises.” He sends a glare your way for that, and you can’t help but think he looks like a soaked purrbeast. The thought has you stifling a chuckle.

“Anyways, I was here to gather a few materials, when I saw you. And, well, I thought it’d be above his highness to stoop low enough to come to a common market such as this.” You emphasize the ‘highness’ which makes him frown.

“Kan! I told you I greww out of that load of hoofbeastshit. Noww, did you havve somethin’ to say or did you just come ovver to antagonize me and wwatch me squirm?”

“Well, I had no plan initially, but now that I’m here, I figure we could catch up. It’s had to have been at least a perigee since we last spoke, and I must say, I am curious as to what you’ve been doing off on your little shipwreck of a hive.” you elaborate, giving him a soft smile, which only seems to unnerve him.

He pulls at the edge of the scarf you knitted him sweeps ago, the end a bit frayed, but otherwise looking straight off the needles. His appearance has changed a lot over the sweeps. He stopped wearing those gaudy rings and that frivolous cape, and thank the lord he decided to forgo those pinstripe pants for something a bit more casual. You would’ve had to separate him from his waist if he continued to obliviously wear that terrible pair.

“Er… Maybe some other time? Look Kan, I knoww you don’t mean ill or anythin’, but I came here wwith a purpose, and I can’t vvery wwell abandon it to go chit chat wwith you in your blinding spire you call a hivve. Seriously, howw are your eyes still in tact? Actually, don’t answwer that. It probably has something to do wwith your wweird resistance to the sun or some shit like that. And I am not ready to listen to you delve into the ins and outs of troll biology wwhile I wwait oh so patiently for you to get to the fuckin’ point, wwhich you nevver do might I add.”

“Why Eridan, are you attempting to dissuade me from teaching you about your own body in the future? Because frankly, it’s not working one bit. As for our little conversation, I never said we had to leave the market to do so. A little walk and talk could be arranged while you finish purchasing whatever useless thing you’re looking for this time.” you smile, a predatory one that a certain human taught you over a video call. You don’t believe you mastered it yet, but you’re getting there. Ampora seems to become more nervous at your suggestion, worrying his lip a bit and letting a few beads of violet blood fall onto the tiled floor.

“I… wwell…” As he’s about to make some poor excuse to avoid you, he suddenly goes rigid, fins splayed out in shock. Did something happen? You approach the seadweller, intent on ensuring he’s alright when you smell it. It’s not something any other troll could sense, but as a jadeblood, your instincts automatically lock on and identify it.

The scent of a grub. You would think that you were mistaken, but through years of evolution, produced by Her Imperious Condescension in order to protect wayward grubs from being snatched by trolls with vile intentions, you know that your instincts are correct. There is a grub nearby, and its scent seems to be stemming from Eridan.

You step over to him in the blink of an eye, and he flinches backwards, nearly tripping over the bench behind him, his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. It’s stronger. It’s stronger and you’re so confused as to why he smells like a grub.

“Eridan. Come with me.” You give him no room to reply as you yank him by the wrist, dragging him towards a small cranny between two shops, the bags left behind. You shove him in first, then follow, blocking off his escape route.

“Wwha- Kan, chill out! Hey, stop that! I really don’t appreciate being backed up to a wwall, and- CHRIST YOU’RE STRONG.” You place your hands on either side of his head, and lean close to him, sneering.

“Care to explain why you reek of grub, Ampora?” You nearly snarl out the question, which makes him pale in fear. If he did the unthinkable act you believe he did, he deserves every bit of fear you send through his system. He splutters, his hand tightening the scarf again, before covering the cloth protectively.

“Listen Kan, I don’t knoww wwhat the fuck you’re goin’ on about. If this is some shitty attempt at black solicitation, I’m flattered, but you knoww I swwore off of attempting concupiscent quadrants for a wwhile after Vvris broke up wwith me an’ I nearly messed everythin’ up wwith Fef.”

You’d consider believing him usually, but the scent still clings to him like a bad past, and you aren’t about to let this cavern thief off the hook. You ready your lipstick, when he has the gall to growl out a nonverbal submission command to you. You never thought you’d see Eridan stoop to such petty sources, but then again, you never thought he’d try to keep a grub for himself.

Highbloods have a certain power about them that can make castes below them submit, without even saying a word. It’s ridiculously powerful, considering they’re already stronger and more resilient than lowbloods and midbloods.

You drop to your knees immediately, though you wish you could fight it. He crouches down to your level, and you feel the grim feeling of dread overcome you. You’re completely at Eridan’s mercy, and you’re sure you won’t like the results. If you’re even alive to see them that is.

“Relax Kan, I’m not about to rip your fuckin’ face off or anythin’, but I’d prefer to keep mine, thank you vvery much. This is exactly wwhy I didn’t wwanna go to you for help on this…” He murmurs the last sentence but you still hear it.

“Help on what Eridan? What are you doing?” He takes a deep breath, stabalizing himself, before grabbing the scarf he’s been fiddling with since you saw him. He carefully unravels it from his neck, and reveals a small oliveblooded grub on his shoulder.

“Eridan! How could you?” you ask, hurt evident in your voice. It's one thing when it's just your own beliefs, but when the evidence is sitting right in front of you... It makes you sick to your stomach.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, Kan. It ain’t wwhat it seems. I swwear that much. Just…” He swivels his head around, trying to spot any passerby that could overhear. “Look, this ain’t the best place to explain this. Just… Let me finish gettin’ wwhat I need, and wwe’ll head over to my hivve wwhere I can tell you evverythin’.”

And, like a complete fool, you agree.

Chapter Text

Okay, so uhh. Hi. I'm here to report that I'm officially abandoning/discontinuing my two multi-chapter Homestuck fics, Robofish Activate and In Which A Violetblood Takes In Some Grubs. 

I know this probably feels like a slap in the face to the 3.2 people that cared about these fics and were wanting them to update. But, to be perfectly honest, I'm just not all that into Homestuck anymore. Or writing since mine is complete trash. But mostly Homestuck. I just kinda, fell outta the fandom, y'know? I have other reasons for abandoning these fics as well, such as time constraints and a lack of motivation. I'm sorry it had to go down like this, but at least I'm not giving y'all false hope.

However, this doesn't mean it's the absolute end for these fics! I'm willing to hand them off to other writers, so long as they promise to at least upload a single chapter within a year of receiving the fic. Will I check on these to make sure that happens? Probably not. Anyways, whoever gets these fics can revise/edit what's written as much as you like. Frankly, I know it's rushed and lackluster, descriptive in places it doesn't need to be and an absolute bore to slog through. So pretty it up however you please. If you want to take over these fics, just leave a comment in the latest chapter (This announcement deal.) of whichever fic you want. I'll do a brief lookover of what you've done before now, and if I think you're good enough, then they're yours. And don't stress out, my standards are pretty low since I just kinda want these out of my hands.

Again, I'm sorry this ended how it did. Farewell y'all.