343 lines
19 KiB
HTML
343 lines
19 KiB
HTML
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
|
||
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN"
|
||
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
|
||
|
||
<html xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>
|
||
<head profile='http://dublincore.org/documents/dcmi-terms/'>
|
||
<meta http-equiv='Content-Type' content='text/html;'/>
|
||
<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy - Chapter 35</title>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.title' content='The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.language' content='en' scheme='DCTERMS.RFC4646'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.source' content='MFW'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.issued' content='{$issued}' scheme='DCTERMS.W3CDTF'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.creator' content='EpubPress'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.contributor' content=''/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.modified' content='{$issued}' scheme='DCTERMS.W3CDTF'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.provenance' content=''/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.subject' content='Unknown'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DC' href='http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCTERMS' href='http://purl.org/dc/terms/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCTYPE' href='http://purl.org/dc/dcmitype/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCAM' href='http://purl.org/dc/dcam/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='stylesheet' type='text/css' href='../Styles/ebook.css'/>
|
||
</head>
|
||
<body>
|
||
<div id='s35'></div>
|
||
<div>
|
||
<h1>Chapter 35</h1>
|
||
<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
|
||
<p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm">W</span>hile John
|
||
dealt with the sight by immediately turning and walking away, and
|
||
the Earth Vriska dove into a nearby bush for safety, Vriska is
|
||
contending with her predicament through willful denial. She’s
|
||
resolved to do everything in her power to prevent herself from
|
||
thinking about the situation directly behind her. It is a situation
|
||
which, if she could bear to look at it, would strike her as the
|
||
precise intersection between the most humiliating moment of her
|
||
existence, an unprecedented circus mishap, and a gruesome crime
|
||
scene. Her attempt to ignore the unspeakable catastrophe behind her
|
||
may nearly have worked, if not for the reminder provided by the
|
||
many fresh bloodstains on her shirt. Not only stains of her own
|
||
familiar cerulean hue, but others of a most unwelcome color
|
||
mingling with them. A color she never imagined she’d see
|
||
contaminating her cool and casual ensemble, and certainly not in a
|
||
context like this.</p>
|
||
<p>Her attempt to distract herself, to delay the inevitable
|
||
engagement with her poor judgment, would not fly for much longer.
|
||
Sooner or later, she would have to turn around and confront the
|
||
fact that she just kissed a very smelly clown, head-on.</p>
|
||
<p>No. She doesn’t want to. She WON’T.</p>
|
||
<p>There’s a rustling in the grass behind her, as Gamzee shifts his
|
||
grotesque, supine length. Nope. She covers her ears. She remembers
|
||
the shame and excoriation of her childhood—the fear, the pressure,
|
||
being coerced to do awful things to undeserving kids. All that
|
||
embarrassing effort she spent trying to emulate her ancestor. She
|
||
threw every bit of herself into the role, but in recent years
|
||
reflecting on the charade has only made her cringe. And in what
|
||
couldn’t have been more than an hour ago, she was on the precipice
|
||
of watching the glorious defeat of Lord English after unleashing a
|
||
secret weapon that she went to the bother of retrieving and
|
||
wielding against him. And then…</p>
|
||
<p>No, she doesn’t want to dwell on that moment. It was almost as
|
||
bad as kissing a juggalo. Almost. But nothing can compete with
|
||
this. Nothing could even come close. Yet as she stands there,
|
||
feeling soiled and ashamed, there’s no denying it. The moment she
|
||
stuck her tongue in the heinous mouth of that frisky, unwashed
|
||
jester, she began jackhammering through the stubborn concrete of
|
||
rock bottom like she was digging up the corpse of a mob snitch.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY (vRiSkA) mY bOoTyLiCiOuS bAbY
|
||
bItCh.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoUr BaD bOnE dAdDy Is GeTtIn To Be A
|
||
cHiLlY mOtHeRfUcKeR fRoM tHiS dAnK sUmMeR bReEzE.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOw AbOuT wE gEt OuR wIcKeD sNuGgLe On
|
||
DoWn At ThIs GrAsS wE jUsT mAdE aLl NaStY iN. :o)</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">She shudders. Somehow during her
|
||
self-incriminating reverie, she’d managed to forget that she’s not
|
||
even Vriska anymore. She’s now (Vriska). She scans the bushes and
|
||
spots her. The sixteen-year-old girl who’d somehow earned the right
|
||
to call herself Vriska. The adopted teen daughter of Rose and
|
||
Kanaya Maryam-Lalonde. The person who, for all anyone knew, might
|
||
be an exact genetic double of (Vriska) herself.</p>
|
||
<p>Not that she had any grounds to object. She missed her shot.
|
||
Snatched shame from the jaws of glory and washed up on the shores
|
||
of this candy-coated shithole of an approximation of what a
|
||
paradise planet might look like to certain individuals. The small
|
||
sob she’s been stifling finally comes out. Tears cut through the
|
||
oily, shining mask of blue, purple, and mud on her face.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY bEaUtIfUl. :O)</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: iS sOmEtHiNg MoThEr FuCkIn ThE
|
||
mAtTeR?</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: We CaN tAlK aLl OpEn At EaCh OtHeR aBoUt
|
||
ThE sAd NoIsE hApPeNiNg In OuR bOsOm NoW tHaT wE aLl MaDe ThE
|
||
sOrDiD pLeDgE tO pRaCtIcE tHe WiCkEd InTiMaCy On ThE mOtHeRfUcKiN
|
||
rEgUlAr.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">(Vriska) nearly vomits but holds it together.
|
||
She wipes the tears off her face in a flurry of indignant motions,
|
||
smearing the blood around. She looks at her hands, notices the
|
||
blood, and continues cleaning her face, using her tears as a
|
||
solvent and wiping the blood on her shirt.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Gamzee...</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Can you just</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Not talk?</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): For just a little while, so I
|
||
can...</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: :o)</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): So I can...</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t know.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Just.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8e quiet.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HONK!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Her final sniffle is a snort of anger. If
|
||
nothing else, she’s learning something about herself today. Nothing
|
||
sobers her up emotionally quite like the post-amorous
|
||
insubordination of a raunchy clown. It’s almost like a smelling
|
||
salt. She sneers, revealing a fang, and spins on her heel to face
|
||
him.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Did you hear what I F8CKING
|
||
said????????</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">If his infuriating exclamation was just a
|
||
whiff of the smelling salt, actually looking directly at him again
|
||
is like upending the whole barrel and pouring it all over her face.
|
||
She recoils involuntarily, but regroups. Her gaze sweeps across his
|
||
entire ungainly form from head to foot. He’s got his head propped
|
||
up with one arm, elbow in the grass. His legs are crossed. His face
|
||
is a disaster. One eye swollen shut, nose broken, widely-smiling
|
||
mouth split vertically down the lips. And hanging from his mouth
|
||
is...</p>
|
||
<p>Is that a baby bottle?</p>
|
||
<p>She doesn’t even want to think about where he might have been
|
||
concealing it all this time. What sort of milk was that? It’s
|
||
another question she immediately wishes she hadn’t just asked
|
||
herself. She curls the other side of her lip to reveal both fangs
|
||
now. She stomps forward, plants her left foot in the ground, and
|
||
uses her right to punt the baby bottle clean out of his mouth,
|
||
sending it flying several hundred yards to land just beyond a
|
||
distant row of trees. The rubber nipple remains stuck in his
|
||
clenched teeth, his face now coated with a good portion of the
|
||
punted bottle’s milk.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Aw MoThEr FuCk SuGaRpUsS. :o(</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mY nAnNa NeCtAr!!!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">(Vriska) presses her foot down on his chest
|
||
and pins his back flush against the grass. He exhales with a
|
||
startled wheeze at the sudden force.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You 8etter fucking listen up,
|
||
Makara.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t know what you may have
|
||
thought... THIS was. Whatever the fuck it was that just happened
|
||
here.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut let me clue you in.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It was NOTHING.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Nothing happened here.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Do we understand each other, you
|
||
reprehensi8le, malodorous PIECE OF SHIT?</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: honk. :o)</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">She glares down at him with an intensity that
|
||
would cause any other man to wither, were he not a reeking pile of
|
||
circus manure. Gamzee’s expression however remains steadfast in its
|
||
vaguely lewd sense of serenity. He simply gazes back at her, his
|
||
smile slowly broadening. The milk seems to be mixing with the blood
|
||
on his face, slightly lightening the tint of the purple.</p>
|
||
<p>She hears a faint digital clicking somewhere. What is that? It
|
||
seems to be coming from just behind her. She turns around.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What the fuck do you think you’re
|
||
doing????????</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">At the end of his long, outstretched arm, his
|
||
hand is working a smartphone. He’s smearing blood on the screen as
|
||
he’s typing a text to someone. Even at a casual glance, (Vriska)
|
||
can tell he’s going to the bother of alternating capital and
|
||
lowercase letters in the text, making it take more than twice as
|
||
long. Somehow this makes her even more pissed off about it than if
|
||
he were just broadcasting their snogging fiasco without the use of
|
||
a typing quirk.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I gOtS tO fUcKiN tElL mY nUmBeR oNe
|
||
InVeRtEbRoThEr AbOuT aLl WhAt JuSt GoT dId.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hE aNd I aReN’t As TiGhT aS tHe BoYs We
|
||
UsEd To RoLl As, BuT hE sHoUlD gEt HiS kIcK oN aBoUt WhAt A hIgHlY
|
||
uNaNtIcIpAtEd YeT bItChIn PiEcE oF hOt N hEaVy HoRsEpLaY i WaS jUsT
|
||
mAdE tO pArToOk.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You were just “made” to... ?!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why you FUCKING...</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You’re not telling Karkat a8out
|
||
this!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You’re n8t telling ANY8NE. Do you hear
|
||
me, cl8wn????????</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: LoL.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mOtHeRfUcKiN sHaMe On Me, FoR fAiLiNg To
|
||
ReCoGnIzE uP sOoNeR fOr HoW cUtE yOu ArE wHeN yOu’Re AnGrY. :o)</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): AAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NoW wHy DoN’t YoU cOmE aLl SeTtLe YoUr
|
||
WoRkEd Up WiGgLeR aSs DoWn HeRe WiTh YoUr SaLtY nEw RuMpUs UnClE sO
|
||
i CaN sNaP sOmE mOtHeRfUcKiN sElFiEs, My FiRm YeT sLiPpErY lItTlE
|
||
pAsSiOn PeAcH.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): GIVE ME TH8T!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">She snatches the phone out of his hand, holds
|
||
it from either side, and breaks it in half. She then spikes both
|
||
pieces down at him, missing, but causing him to flinch
|
||
nonetheless.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No selfies, no texts, no N8THING!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Which fucking part of “you’re not
|
||
telling anyone” is so hard to understand?!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This NEVER HAPPENED.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Not a single fucking word of this is
|
||
EVER going to 8e 8reathed, whispered, or honked to ANY8ODY.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): LEAST of all any insinuation that this
|
||
is something I “made” you do. You GET me, fuckface??</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I didn’t MAKE you do anything.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You were slo88ering all over my FUCKING
|
||
foot, while I was 8eating the SHIT out of you.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I SAW that look on your face.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I saw your how your codpiece was,
|
||
like...</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Ok, never mind that.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I mean, once we were actually... you
|
||
were totally into... don’t even try to convince me you weren’t,
|
||
like...</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): UGH!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why am I even TALKING a8out this??</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I DON’T NEED TO JUSTIFY MYSELF TO A
|
||
DISGUSTING, HORNY PIECE OF FILTH LIKE YOU!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Gamzee’s expression changes slightly. He
|
||
retains his unfortunate aura of amorous placidity, but there’s now
|
||
a hint of sadness.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I dOn’T kNoW aBoUt AlL tHe BuSiNeSs YoU
|
||
sAiD, hOnEyNiPs.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’Ve GoT tO fEeLiNg ThAt WoNdEr In My
|
||
HeArT wHiCh SaYs MaYbE i GoT eRoTiCaLlY bUsHwAcKeD hErE.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’M sO cOnFuSeD... i DoN’t HaRdLy KnOw At
|
||
WhIcH wAy Is Up AnYmOrE, aBoUt My OrIgInAl WaNtInGs FoR tHe NaStY
|
||
dAnCe We JuSt DiD.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: MaYbE tHe TrUtH oF tHe ShIt Is MoRe
|
||
LiKe...</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I gOt ThE aDvAnTaGe TaKeN oF mE.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">(Vriska)’s face contorts with rage.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You son of a 8itch.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This was C8NSENSUAL!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): If ANYONE didn’t consent to this horror
|
||
show it was ME, RETRO8CTIVELY!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: :o(</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: VrIsKa, I...</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: gOt To MoThEr FuCkInG sAy.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHiS wHoLe ExPeRiEnCe HaS lEfT a
|
||
MoThErFuCkEr FeElInG a LiL bIt UnCoMfY.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: uNcOmFy, UnReSpEcTeD, uSeD, aNd MaYbE
|
||
aLsO,</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: JuSt An EeNsY wEeNsY iTtY lItTlE
|
||
bIt...</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: uNsAfE. :o(</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t care if you feel
|
||
“unsafe”!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You’re a lying, disingenuous puddle of
|
||
sideshow puke, and I don’t 8elieve for a SECOND you meant ANY of
|
||
that!</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): The 8NLY thing that matters here is
|
||
that you keep your F8CKING MOUTH SHUT A8OUT WH8T WE JUST
|
||
D8D!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: (VrIsKa), My MeAn QuEeN sQuEeZe, AnD
|
||
bOrDeRlInE sExUaL vIlLaIn,</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i GoTs ReAsOnS oF sElF pRoTeCtIoN aGaInSt
|
||
YoUr PrObLeMaTiC hOlLeRs ThAt I sHoUlD kEeP tHe WiCkEd ShIt ZiPpEd,
|
||
JuSt LiKe YoU sAy.</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: TeLl It To Me FuCkIn StRaIgHt, TuRbO
|
||
tUsH...</p>
|
||
<p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: dO tHeSe LoOk LiKe LoOsE lIpS tO yOu?</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">If (Vriska) were to be honest, Gamzee’s
|
||
swollen, battered mouth was just about the most structurally
|
||
incontinent feature she’d ever seen on a person’s face. That limp,
|
||
floppy maw couldn’t keep a cantaloupe secure, much less a
|
||
secret.</p>
|
||
<p>She drops down and straddles him in a way that is unmistakably
|
||
non-amorous, even to an extraordinarily obtuse, randy juggalo. She
|
||
puts her shaking hands around his neck and grips tight. She
|
||
positions her face inches from his, hissing hot breath through her
|
||
clenched teeth.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): NO ONE IS GOING TO FIND OUT A8OUT THIS
|
||
YOU FUCKING 8ASTARD.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(VRISKA): NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW, SO HELP ME
|
||
G8D.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">(Vriska) is so furious, she has no way of
|
||
pinpointing the exact moment her intent stopped being intimidating
|
||
him into silence and started being guaranteeing his silence,
|
||
forever. She knows this impostor was never a real god tier. She’s
|
||
always known, just like everyone else. Once he’s gone, he’ll be
|
||
gone for good. She just needs another minute. Her grip grows
|
||
tighter, and she feels the throbbing pulse beneath her hands
|
||
gradually subside. His arms flail, grab at hers, clutch at her
|
||
wrists. He’s alarmingly strong. But at this particular moment, not
|
||
as strong as her.</p>
|
||
<p>And then, she lets go. His face is frozen in a repellent mask
|
||
exhibiting the perfectly undetectable difference between terror and
|
||
ecstasy. He’s dead.</p>
|
||
<p>(Vriska) exhales forcefully, staggers to her feet, shaking. She
|
||
backs up a few steps, studying the corpse. If her body language
|
||
signals any remorse or sadness, the witness in the bushes certainly
|
||
can’t tell.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">Vriska: (Eep!)</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Oh shit. (Vriska) had already forgotten about
|
||
her, somehow. Her stylishly dressed teen duplicate, who surely just
|
||
witnessed not only the original feat of debauchery, but all the
|
||
compromising activity which followed as well. (Vriska) would
|
||
probably need to have a few words with her.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="vriska">Vriska: Um...</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Vriska stands up slowly from the bush,
|
||
obviously trying not to look at the lifeless clown. She puts a hand
|
||
behind her head and seems to be casting about desperately for the
|
||
right thing to say during such a moment. But soon it’s clear she’s
|
||
given up. (Vriska) doesn’t blame her. She can’t imagine there being
|
||
anything in anybody’s life that could adequately prepare them to
|
||
have a snappy response ready for a situation like this.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small" stylw="margin-bottom:0">
|
||
<p class="vriska">Vriska: Hey.</p>
|
||
<p class="vriska">(Vriska): Sup.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
</div>
|
||
</div>
|
||
</body>
|
||
</html> |