Time to start a Homestuck Fanfiction and start a hype train. This is more of a self-challenge fanfiction of my own, but also a challenge to you other Homestuck fans.
The challenge? Self Insert yourself as troll or human (perferably troll for a harder time) and make it as realistic as you can. You can only use the following classes, Mage and Seer, and the Aspects you can choose from is either Time, Light, or Space. In my example, I was suggested a Derse Mage of Time. Fitting, no?
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. A bit of a warning, I do not update often as I focus more on my school life and shit compared to writing.
-Woosh Time Powers!- == Be you, Sweeps into the future
You aren't sure how you got into this mess. You aren't sure that whomever is watching you knows either, but this mess... well it's a mess and that's all you know. You stare down at the bodies of your friends, unsure of what you have become. The rainbow colors of your friends taint the platform they are on, but you know you didn't cause this.
This was meerly the fault of another sessions mistake- the black bark-beast carcapacian known as Bec Noir (its not their fault) and he decided to take a stroll through your session and wreck shit up. You know your past self will see this, and allow yourself to wallow in self pity. (It's not your fault, you didn't see this...!)
== Enter, Self Insert
You aren't sure where to begin. You don't remember much besides a few blurbs of your past life as you are born into a cold cavern, your first breath of the harsh cavern air causing you to shiver. The shell you came from, a deep shade of Red Violet that so claimed to be extinct, Maroon, collapsed on itself as you heaved your maroon shell-covered body from it. The fins on the side of your face twitched, resembling a fish fin. Your horns arced upwards a bit, curving towards the other while a second pair cuved under it a couple inches downward, giving you a demonic look.
A song enters your ear drums- or whatever they are called. It calls to you in song and you only have to look up as a large magestic dragon-like creature you could never mistake as a Stormcutter swooped down and stole you from the cave, flying towards the song. You aren't sure where you are, or what is going on anymore and curl up within the dragons paws, passing out in exhaustion.
When you wake, you are in some sort of ice palace. Except it wasn't as cold as you thought, but then again you are a cold-blooded troll... grub... thing. You felt eyes on you (More than one really) and turn around to stare into the eyes of a really glubbing large dragon. It resembled a Bewilderbeast, however its tusks resembled the ones on your head, the middle two horns (the ones that are normal in placement) touched each other and the two that were below that set stopped half way to the round tusks. The dragons hide was shining white, if not for the maroon coral-like crown and back, you'd never assume this was your lusus. The maroon eyes stared down at you before it let out a soft breath, soft snow furies dancing onto your hair.
Your lusus was beautiful, and officiated itself as your caretaker. Your hive was built by drones into the ice that was surprisingly strong, and the constant roars and chatterings of the other dragon lusus kept you awake some nights (days?) but it wasn't due to fear. You just wondered what it was like to fly.
Your lusus entrusted the same Stormcutter (you learned the lusus's kind was called a Skyripper but you refused to call it such) to keep an eye over you, reminding you of that one movie you cannot remember about. Your lusus was called The Great Horned Beast. It was responsible for keeping the dragonkin in check as a Alpha, but also as a global tempurature regulator since its ice was so cold not even the burning sun could melt it. (Well it could, but it was slow to do so)
== Let's go ahead in time, yeah?
When you pupated for the first time into a young child, you learned to hunt down Lusus and other Trolls to feed your Lusus, your loyal companion, the Stormcutter, protecting you as you slaughtered lusus and troll. Your weapon was supposed to be a trident, a traditional weapon to tyrians, but you weren't (refused, really) to be like others of your kind (and lower) and chose a spear gun. It was hard, but thankfully you managed well enough.
Your lusus was also kind enough to entrust a hivetop and a celluar device into your trusty hands and you managed to download trollian. You were known as steampunkMonarch, but you kept your color to a shade lower, Fuchsia, so you wouldn't be known as the only glubbin' (glubbin'?) Maroon in existance. Unless you have a Dancestor. God that will be hell. Your quirk was quite simple, as you tend to oOo Speak like this sΨ trΨlls (and humans) can eelsily read yΨu. oOo and you tended to use a pun every once in a while (you cringe while doing so) but you really couldn't help but to do it.
You have met some trolls, most of them not even trying to hide how rare their blood color is. Your first encounter with another rare blood was a Plum cunt. Fucker loved to shove into your face how wonderful and priviledged you and they were about being rare blooded. You proceeded to tell him to shut his fucking mouth about that shit and he did, if not reluncantly. He reminded you of Eridan mixed with Equius if you had to be honest.
This Plum sea-troll was named Diplor, as in the Diploria coral. You didn't care much about the last name. It was better then your own Azazel, as in the dragon from the Apoclypse of Abraham. You hated it and your castle-themed hive. You were a very childish grub, alright?
As you roll your chair away from your husktop (and ignoring the various pings from the fucking Plum sea-troll) you realized that holy fuck you need a renovation. Your floor is covered in maroon colored baa-beast skin, the wool delightfully soft under your webbed feet. The walls were black, and the tinted fuchsia windows were covered in blue drapes. On your wall were various posters of movies, like the troll version of How to Train your Dragon, troll version of the Hobbit, and a couple troll-Batonetta posters.
You wondered if anyone watching you would be disgusted in this collection, as you turned to a pile of plush scalemates that had appeared in your room out of glubbin' nowhere. You suspect a certain Witch of Space, but you rush that thought off. Why would some kids who already completed their game want to watch yours... right?
Que a ping from your husktop. It isn't the plum sea-troll, but the icon flashing above it like you're in some sort of fucking webcomic shows a god damn Pisces sign. Except the background was... black? You wander over and sea (Sea? See you get it!) what the glub has decided to gift their presense to you.
-coastalCollector (CC) started trolling steampunkMonarch (SM) at XX:XX-
CC: Ay-E, yo moth-Erglubbin' s-Eatroll.
CC: I know you can s-Ea this, you'r-E staring at the scr-E-En.
SM: oOo ApΨlΨgies, I'm just curiΨus ΨntΨ why a suppsΨingly dead trΨll is trΨlling me. oOo
CC: You'r-E parcially right about d-Ead, whal-E not r-E-Ely. You know my Cod Ti-Er, Mag-E.
SM: oOo I was admittingly curiΨus ΨntΨ my CΨd Tier myself, thanks for Ψfficiating my title. oOo
CC: You talk too much lik-E th-E S-Erk-Et, Ost-Eus. R-Elax. And mayb-E l-Emm-E g-Et a stab at ya.
SM: oOo Yeah nΨ, yΨu can glubbin' yeetus intΨ my feetus, gill. Ain't nΨ way you're gΨing to kill me. Yet. oOo
CC: I lik-E your attitud-E, Ost-Eus. Lucky you that you'r-E on Alt-Ernia C and I'm on -Earth C... oth-Erwis-E I'd stab ya right on through.
SM: oOo There is a chance we'll meet, Thief of Life. Well, If the game truely dΨes exist in Ψur timeline. oOo
-steampunkMonarch (SM) ceased trolling coastalCollector (CC) at XX:XX-
The short of kind of tiring trolling session exhausted you mentally, mostly due to the fact that apparently the Dancestors (or at least, the canon ones) are alive and well on Earth C. The only question is how the fuck did Alternia C get into creation. And what session you guys are even called, nor did you know any of your other 'friends' that you would make over the sweeps. You're already assuming that your session is going to be odd, at least for colors. You turn to your husktop and sigh. It is going to be a long day, because look at that... another troll from a new troll... time to make friends, you suppose.