The thing you immediately realize about Homestuck is that it's an intensely personal story, in its own way. Sure, it's about Alternia, the planet you'd spent months on, and about trolls, the species whose members you befriended. Sure, it talks about all sorts of concepts, like quadrants, that you remember hearing about from your moirail. God, Polypa. She wasn't in the story. You're worried about her. Her, and Mallek, and Stelsa, and Tyzias, and…God. You remember how you felt when it talked about the Vast Glub. You're so fucking scared for your friends. You hope they manage to play burb, or find another way out, or... There are two big things that have been bugging you. One is the terror of realizing who, exactly, stole you away onto Alternia's moon - the fact that he's still alive means one of two things, and both options are terrible. Either he's still alive because Spades Slick hasn't set his house on fire and killed Snowman yet... or he's still alive because you helped him meddle with the timeline. You can't stand the thought that you helped that creep. Even without the unnatural compulsion he'd put you under, you still value friendship. It's why you kept those friendships going, even after you'd "successfully" befriended people. you and Rose had a back and forth going. “None whatsoever.” You didn't type that… Uh oh. You stop pretending you know what Rose is saying in time for Doc Scratch to wallop you with Spade Slick's cane. Fuck, that smarts. Hey, look at you, using old-timey slang.

“This was low of you. Honestly,”

Your hand is on your jaw, trying to see if it's broken. It probably is. Fuck. This hurts like fucking hell.

“I give you a gift, and you repay me by attempting to sabotage me?”

You promise you weren't trying to sabotage him. You try to, at least. You're probably bleeding all over Scratch's nice green rug, but honestly, fuck this guy. Who uses white ink?