Title : Venti Mutatio (Winds of Change)
Summary : Be John Egbert→
Unfortunately you cannot be John Egbert because to be John Egbert is like rewriting the laws of paradox space. Which is to say, LONG and TEDIOUS. So let's skip the five-and-one and give you a close runner up : be Juno Egbert→
Congratulations, your name is Juno Egbert; what will you do now?
Disclaimer : Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie.
Rated : Teen
Language : English
Posted : 6/12/16
Edit : 6/29 : read note at the bottom
[ 01_00_ :"what will you do now?" ]
"A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything."
- Irish proverb (via)
Your name is Cassidy P. Strauss and once upon a time, you lived.
You lived a life where you've recently graduated from high school, which made you, more or less, an adult within the eyes of society. Technicalities. You are an ardent admirer of many mediums and an unmotivated dreamer.
As a child, you were bewitched by myths and crypts, habitually hording curios along the way; all while studying to become a traveling artist. You'll admit you're a bit - a lot - fluttery than you appear. Appearances can be deceiving. It was a common sight to see your head in the clouds. You're a daydreamer, it was in your blood, you can't help it.
Jai was the only reason you didn't dwell in your daydreams for too long, as they were the one who kept you grounded and you owed it to them. Without Jai, you'd be lost - figuratively and literally. So you studied paleontology and archaeology just for the heck of it. You knew Jai adored anything related to history and ancestry, which was both good and bad.
But above all, it was a good life you mused. The time had finally come, the one time Jai couldn't-wouldn't ground you. They set you free. So very free and so very lost.
Your name is Cassidy P. Strauss and you are dead. What will you do now?
Be John Egbert→
ERROR. INVALID COMMAND. WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY AGAIN? →YES →NO
→YES
Be Juno Egbert→
For a moment, all you know is coldgreenelectricityfear before it disperses like smoke in the wind, leaving you disoriented and confused within the next five minutes. Your tiny self is sitting on a book called Colonel Sass-and the rest is cut off because your diaper butt is in the way. You're not really interested in the book at the moment - what has the world come to? - but the idea of someone being called Colonel Sass is enough to send you into a giggle fit.
(You always hated crying, it was a headache - and heartache - and a half. And they do say laughter is the best medicine.)
This is good. Laughter is good because freaking out is bad. If you freak out, you will understand jack shit and oh my god why does that baby have guns!?
Gaping at the sheer audacity and ridiculousness of a baby wielding twin flintlocks sends you into a other laughing fit, with sobs included, spawning an amalgamation which shall never be spoken of less the sudden urge of burning down the world overtakes you.
Behind you, a pair of babies decide to play jungle gym with some newly broken jars by the wall. Their eyes a blazing amber and a striking ruby compared to the lush verdant of the Flintlock-Baby. Odd eye coloring aside, that was the least of your worries cause there wasn't a single fucking scratch on them what the fuck.
They were peppered from head to toe in glass and not a drop of blood was in sight. You're no sure whether to be appreciative they are unharmed or horrified that they are unharmed.
First Flintlock-Baby and now Glass Resistant-Babies? That amalgamation we agreed to never speak of? It's starting to sound more sobbing and less laughing.
That's it, you're done. You are going to take a nice long nap while Colonel Sass watches your back. "You take the first shift.", you tell the book with a pat, or at least try to, instead babble some alien baby language. Yup, time for this baby to take a nap.
(Can you say déjà-vu?)
.
.
"Oh my god Colonel Sass, I leave you for a well deserved dirt nap and the whole place goes to hell.", you babble helplessly as you examine the remains of what appears to be an explosion. The book is unresponsive. Good, that good-for-nothing must be wallowing in shame for letting the whole place look like World War III took place.
Everything everywhere is trashed, minus Colonel Sass and you, and billowing around you is the scent of death. Figuratively speaking. It's just the smoke and soot digging needles into your eyes, infiltrating your lungs like some hotshot assassin and threatening you at gunpoint for a panic attack. Bad analogy, but your point stands.
The atmosphere is tense, and you feel like a cornered animal before brushing off said feeling. There's no threat and can't find any reason why someone would threaten you, after all, you're a baby.
(But Ace's existence was a crime itself.)
You snorted at your inner monologue. This was the real world, not an anime, and you doubted your existence was that much of a threat... then again, you did wake up here, but if you asked for her opinion, that seemed like a lot of effort to go through for a baby.
Someone was headed your way.
Finally, it was about time. Sitting there with a ten ton book inside a crater was the last thing on your mind, but you're still... well, you're adjusting as quick as you possibly can while floundering in some form of shock and something else you can't define.
(Exhaustion? Weariness? Wait, that's the same thing.)
You force yourself into a state of calmness by shoving all your worries in the back of your mind while trying to pass yourself off as an innocent child. You mentally pray it works despite never having prayed once in your life. Former life, you mentally correct.
With footsteps echoing closer and closer you spot a figure within the now thinning smoke. There's a familiarity tugging at the back of your mind in a teasing manner it tickles you into annoyance. You know this person, someway, somehow. They emerged and looked down at you with cobalt eyes, first there is shock in the way his brows rise and confusion, and then there is something akin to sadness but not quite there. You want to call it pity.
(You later learn it was a wistful sort of happiness and you know why.)
You gives you a smile but it was off, and you finally notice the tear tracks running down his clean shaven face. You're confused and you don't have any more time to ponder about it as the man carefully climbs down and gently approaches you with a tender aura.
You squeak like a little mouse when he makes contact before settling you into his arms. You allow yourself to relax when he begins humming a silly little tune - once again, eerie familiarity/déjà-vu strikes again - once you're assured he won't harm you in any way or form. Exhaustion begins to seep into your pores and you want nothing more than to go back to sleep, not wanting to continue whatever this is.
(Just how stupid are you. You should know the answer by now.)
The weight of everything falls on your shoulders and now you know how Atlas feels.
You choke, wheeze and cry on the man's shoulder, curling yourself on him as if attempting to hide from the world and it's prying eyes. You like to think it works. The man cradles you gently as you pour gallons of tears onto his shirt and somehow you distract yourself briefly from your self-wallowing - Colonel Sass ain't got nothin' on you - when you realize you're wearing glasses when you tried to rub your eyes.
You're suffering some form of PTSD/panic attack/existential crisis and you get distracted by a pair of spectacles.
Laughing at your own idiocy might not be the best decision at the moment, you'll look insane in front of this man which may prompt him to abandon the crazy baby, but at the moment you don't really give a damn. You lean on his shoulder and close your eyes, your cries having quieted into soft sobs and no longer are you gripping like your life was on the line.
You're tired, scared and this was so stupid. You just want to give up.
(There is no rest for the wicked.)
(The wicked? No, you're more than that. You know but not how. You're something more and it awaits.)
.
.
Years in the future, but not many...
You give an experimental pinch to yourself and wince in pain. Nope, not a dream. You kick your blanket it off and rush to the window and jump out. As expected, you don't fall. Instead, you're hovering in the air looking down on a golden citadel, and above you, blue skies with dark horizons and prophetic clouds. Your golden dress seemingly dances to the wind and sapphire eyes look on through squared lenses.
A tinkling laughter escapes your lips.
"Fuck."
→Juno : WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW?
Author Note : Rewrote the whole first chapter cause I didn't like how it originally turned out. Again, be prepared to watch this crash and burn. If you have any questions, feel free to ask but I will be limited to answer, 'cause, y'know, CASUAL SPOILERS.
This →01_00_← is the equivalent to the Acts and Parts but because this is a fanfic, it will be Books instead of Acts and Chapters instead of Parts. Wrote it like that cause it's easier to keep track in my opinion. Not sure what to call Intermission so feel free to suggest.
All you need to know is Juno will not always follow the timeline and if it makes you happy, you can suggest what character you want genderbended. Know that since you're suggesting, it's my decision whether I want to follow it or not.
My only rule is since we need to even out ratios and shit, for every kid/troll you want genderbended, you have to genderbend another character, preferably one with a relation to the character you wish to genderbend, i.e. John is Juno, hence, Jade is a guy - I regret nothing. Another example, since trolls don't seem to have a gender binary I'll say it how it is, is Vriska being a male, hence, Tavros will be female.
Alpha/Beta : 2 male, 2 female
Trolls : 6 male, 6 female
I think that's all.
Review whether you're a guest or an author.