"candy":
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">CANDY<br/>EPILOGUE ONE</h2>
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            1
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">C</span>andy was definitely the right choice, John thinks, as he munches thoughtfully on a strawberry swirl mint. It cracks to splinters between his teeth. Incredibly tasty splinters, the consistency of which have absolutely no existential baggage to them. The splinters dissolve quickly, leaving behind the impression they were made of nothing at all, but for a cloying essence determined to linger behind. With some distance from his traumatic anime dreaming, the fatalistic mood that he’s been walking around with all day seems somewhat... melodramatic. Embarrassing, even! Who has time for nihilism when it’s such a beautiful day.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you know what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe i’ll stay after all.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: r... rly?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. now that i’ve had some time to think about, is lord english really that big of a deal?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, i know rose said it was a big deal.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that canon would... “dissipate,” if i didn’t go do it. whatever that means.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: isn’t it just as likely that i could mess up a whole bunch of stuff if i go back there? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the idea of going back in time, or back into canon, or whatever...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and fighting this huge battle that serves some vague purpose i’m not sure i even understand...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it feels so... heavy?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i’m not feeling that heavy, suddenly. i feel kind of the opposite, actually.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like, maybe i just don’t give a shit? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t mean in a bad way, it’s just...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, i’m already HERE. living my life, with my friends, and...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i just want to stay back on earth, forget i ever heard of lord english, and just... relax? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is that selfish of me??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno, just seems like a lot of responsibility for one person. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so maybe instead of taking the fate of everyone’s existence into my own hands, i should just... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: stay here and try to enjoy life?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Even John has to admit, his rationale doesn’t sound particularly satisfying. Now that he’s reflecting on everything he just said, it really strikes him as a bunch of empty-headed babble. But then again, it’s like he was saying. His head <em>does</em> feel lighter. Maybe he doesn’t care if his reasoning sucks? Maybe he just doesn’t care about any of the high stakes or existential gravity related to his conversation with Rose. Maybe he doesn’t care about much of anything, except the here and now, the company of his friends, and the pleasant breeze flowing through the park today. He’s feeling quite insubstantial, when he thinks about it. Superficial. And a bit sappy toward his friends. So what if he wants to make an insubstantial, superficial, and sappy decision?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: are you absolUtely sUre aboUt this, john?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He looks up at the trees, at the sunlight glittering through the crisscrossing fronds. Has the sky always been that blue? A leaf spirals down lazily and lands on his forehead. He plucks it off and studies the veins running through it. At each fork in the veins, he supposes the leaf as a whole is making a certain kind of “decision,” to go this way or that. It certainly seems like one way of looking at a leaf, now that he bothers to really scrutinize one. It also seems to him, with just as great a sense of clarity, that not one of this leaf’s decisions ever mattered even the tiniest fucking bit to anybody. Not to the tree, not to the world, not even to the leaf itself. He flicks the delicate green metaphor away with a flourish of disdain, and sudden conviction. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. actually, i don’t think i’ve ever been so sure of anything in my life.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy’s stoic countenance washes away abruptly and she lets out a happy... <em>squeal</em>? No, that’s kind of a sexist way to describe it. It’s definitely a girly noise, though, and not what John was expecting. Without warning, she launches herself into his arms.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thats...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: AMAZING!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im so stoked!!! :D</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She buries her nose in the crook of his neck… and starts crying. <em>Huh?</em> She’s definitely sniffing a little, and his skin feels wet against hers. John makes incidental eye contact with Calliope when he raises his arms to wrap them around Roxy’s back. He’s startled for a moment, but Callie’s just looking at him with that big, serene smile on her skull. So, okay, this isn’t weird or anything, this super-intimate physical interaction he’s having with her maybe-girlfriend right in front of her. It’s just that Roxy’s been so distant for years, and now John has no idea where the boundaries are drawn. </p>
    <p>He grins and hugs her back just as hard as she’s hugging him. Maybe his friendships aren’t as damaged as he’d worried. Maybe it’s like his friends were his actual family this whole time, and they were just waiting for him to pick up the phone, or to come along and hug them.</p>
    <p>Roxy pulls back and claps excitedly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: this is gonna be so effing AWESOME</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yes. i think that yoU have made an excellent choice, john!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i can already feel the aUra of eqUivocation that’s been hanging over Us all these years fading!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: equivocation?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh, sorry! </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: what i mean is that i think we’ve all had a hard time moving on from what we experienced in oUr old Universes.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: now we finally can pUt that Ugliness behind Us.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh, john, this is amazing! i have sUch big plans for yoU!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: plans?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: stop asking so many questions dummy</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its gonna be great</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: it will be more than great.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: bUt first there is one last thing yoU mUst do with your retcon powers. someone that yoU need to help.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: someone that *only* yoU can help.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope leans in close. The angle of the sun makes it so that she dips into shadow. The sharp recesses of her skeletal face turn those shadows black. For a moment, her voice sounds the way wind does when it howls through a narrow chasm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yoU mUst free the bard from his prison.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Did he hear her right? He can’t imagine she could <em>possibly</em> mean...  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: gamzee.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope puts her hands together and pulls back, smiling sweetly. Her voice is sugar-sweet again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: let poor gamzee oUt of the fridge, john.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: the time has come. u_u</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: poor... GAMZEE??</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: he’s sUrely learned his lesson by now.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: if we are to tUrn over a new page in this story, we shoUld tUrn that page for everyone.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: gamzee mUst begin seeking redemption immediately. he has sUffered enoUgh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: HAS he, though?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh my yes. absolUtely.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you sure? </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: of coUrse!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John glances at Roxy, seeking support. She smiles at him benignly, apparently having no opinion whatsoever on this topic.</p>
    <p>Sure. Okay. He can’t help but make a disgusted face at the thought of it, but he shrugs. Why the hell not? He’s feeling <em>lighter</em>, remember? If it’s time to let go of his long-held worries and hangups, then so too it may be time to let loose a long-suffering clown. If this is to be the Age of Redemption, then let it begin, he decides. Not with a bang, but a honk. </p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            10
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH3R3 3V3N 4R3 YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND WHY H4V3N’T YOU SL1C3D M4K4R4 1N H4LF Y3T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he smells too bad.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think i want to risk getting that close to him, until he takes a bath.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even then i’d rather not.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: as for WHERE i am... i’m not sure you would believe me if i told you.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 B3T 1 WOULD</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok. i’m, uh...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m on a date.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LOL</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: don’t lol at me.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 C4NT H3LP 1T, 1TS H1L4R1OUS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHO 4R3 YOU OUT ON 4 D4T3 W1TH? &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why don’t you take a guess?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OK</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS OBV1OUSLY ROXY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4TS WRONG NOW</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU 4SK3D M3 TO GU3SS SO 1 GU3SS3D</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m just wondering if i was really that obvious.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UM, Y34H JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3 4R3 NOT 1D1OTS. W3 C4N 4LL DO TH3 M4TH ON TH1S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS NOT L1K3 YOU W3R3 GO1NG TO FUCK YOUR HUM4N MOM OR HUM4N S1ST3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND YOU 4R3 “NOT 4 HOMOS3XU4L,” WH1CH T4K3S STR1D3R D1CK OUT OFF TH3 3QU4T1ON </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND K4N4Y4 1S TH3 ONLY G1RL TROLL L3FT, 4ND SH3 L3SB14N M4RR13D ON3 OF TH3 TWO R3M41N1NG 3L1G1BL3 HUM4N F3M4L3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH, 4ND J4K3 1S 4 DOUBL3 THR34T. 4 HUM4N D4D W1TH 4 HUM4N D1CK!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO BY PROC3SS OF 3L1M1N4T1ON, OF *COURS3* YOU W3R3 GO1NG TO “F4LL 1N LOV3” W1TH ROXY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Love? Is that how John feels about Roxy? He glances around at this beautiful restaurant she’s taken him to. Marble walls, a domed ceiling, alien plants growing up the scaffolding to the second floor... it’s lit by a cobweb of ultrathin clear wire strung with lights so that it looks like there are fireflies suspended above in the fake night sky. It’s a good place to fall in love, probably. </p>
    <p>He turns his head to see that Gamzee has stepped outside, and now monitors the date with his face pressed against the window. He’s smearing his disgusting makeup against the glass without the slightest concern for propriety. John accidentally makes eye contact with him, and Gamzee gives him a thumbs-up. A chill runs down John’s spine, so he goes back to his conversation with Terezi.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M W41T1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ST1LL W41T1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 3GB3RT 4R3 YOU TH3R3 OR C4N 1 GO NOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i just had to think about that for a second.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you really think i’m in love with her?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOW TH3 H3LL WOULD 1 KNOW TH4T, 1M NOT 4 M1ND R34D3R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, aren’t you?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought that’s what your mind... thingy... powers did.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4H4H4H4H4H4</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO 1M JUST 4N 3XC3PT1ON4LLY GOOD R34D OF P3OPL3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT TH4T 1 WOULD H4V3 TO B3 TO T3LL TH4T YOUV3 B33N FLUSH3D FOR ROXY S1NC3 YOU M3T H3R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah i guess that’s true.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how do you think she feels about me?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOUR3 OUT ON 4 D4T3 W1TH H3R, 1 DONT TH1NK TH4T 1M TH3 ON3 YOU SHOULD B3 4SK1NG TH4T QU3ST1ON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... would that be an okay thing to ask her?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that seems kinda... i dunno, dopey?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN 1 H4T3 TO T3LL YOU TH1S, BUT TH3R3S NOT MUCH YOU COULD DO 4T TH1S PO1NT TO 1NCR34S3 YOUR DOP1N3SS 4TTR1BUT3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUV3 4LR34DY PR3TTY MUCH M4X3D OUT TH3 DORK ST4T 4ND 1 C4N ONLY 1M4G1N3 TH4T TH3 POS1T1V3 CORR3L4T1ON B3TW33N YOUR CONT1NU3D 3X1T3NC3 4ND TH3 4MOUNT OF SH33R DW33B1N3SS YOU 3M1T H4S R3T41N3D 3XP3CT3D 3QU1L1BR1UM 1N TH3 T1M3 TH4T 1V3 B33N GON3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: geeze. you always know what to say to people in their hour of need, terezi. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m so glad that i decided to talk to you!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU SHOULD B3 GL4D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M DO1NG YOU 4 B1G F4VOR 4S USU4L</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 S33R M4GN4M1NOUSLY D3CS3ND1NG FROM H3R MOUNT41N 4ND D31GN1NG TO G1V3 TH3 H4PL3SS HUM4N P33RL3SS 4DV1C3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: imagine me rolling my eyes super hard right now. because that’s what i’m doing.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT TRUST M3, TH3 WORST TH1NG YOU C4N DO WH3N 4TT3MPT1NG TO 1N1T14T3 4 FLUSH3D R3L4T1ONSH1P 1S TO B3 3V4S1V3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ROXY 1S 4CTU4LLY 1NCR3D1BLY D1FF1CULT TO R34D BUT 1 TH1NK SH3S TH3 L4ST P3RSON WHO WOULD 3V3R TRY TO J3RK YOU 4ROUND</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SH3LL 4PPR3C14T3 YOU B31NG UP FRONT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 ONLY TH1NG 1 WOND3R 1S WH4T H4PP3N3D W1TH C4LL1OP3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3Y S33M3D SO H4PPY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah that’s, uh...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: been bothering me too.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: callie was actually the one who convinced me to stay. roxy was all over me the moment i said i wasn’t going.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: GO1NG WH3R3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, to fight lord english.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU W3R3 SUPPOS3D TO F1GHT LORD 3NGL1SH?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, yeah. i guess.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT YOU JUST D3C1D3D... NOT TO?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: look it’s a long story.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, it’s not, but that’s not why i texted you. i’ll tell you some other time.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: right now, what i think i need to figure out is how i feel about the whole... calliope thing.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not afraid to ask roxy how she feels about me, i guess. but i think that i am afraid to ask about...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy finally comes back from the restroom. He hears her heels click-clacking on the floor, and shoves his phone into his pocket in a panic, before he can follow up on the last line of his message. He doesn’t know why he does it in a panic. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. In fact, tapping away on the phone when someone leaves you alone at a table is completely and totally normal. Maybe it’s just that it’s kind of weird to be talking to a girl under the table while on a date with a completely different girl, no matter what his respective relationships with those two girls might be.</p>
    <p>His internal Rose-voice tsks at him for having such a gender-essentialist thought. He wonders if he’d feel quite as guilty if he were talking to Rose under the table instead of Terezi. Probably not, which is a whole tangle of stuff he doesn’t even want to think about. He shoots Roxy a big, bright grin when she slips into her seat. She grins back.</p>
    <p>He is genuinely glad to be here. Roxy is beautiful. The restaurant is beautiful. He feels like he’s fumbling at something existentially beautiful here. There’s something about the way she’s looking at him that makes him glad he got out of bed today. It makes him, for the first time in years, excited about the idea that the future is a thing that exists.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sorry for takin so long had to reapply the face u kno how it is</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: actually u probably dont but let me tell u makeups a BITCH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy, you don’t have to do all that for me!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m basically a schlub these days. i don’t care if you wear makeup or not.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you... you’re pretty either way, you know that right?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh dont worry its not for you lol</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but thats sweet as hell i appreciate the sentiment</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. um, that’s cool. why do you need it, then?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: do u ever think about like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: gender???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh. not really, i guess?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i don’t think girls should feel like they HAVE to wear makeup just because they’re girls. </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thats not what im getting at </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what do you mean then?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you, like...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know. i don’t really know what we’re talking about.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol idrk either i guess</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: neway we dont gotta get super into it now this isnt really the setting</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i dunno if u noticed but this place is way too fancy for me lmfao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i was all tryin to impress you with how im classy as fuk but now i feel like were gonna have to skip out on the check</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even though we’ve got infinite money?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just a feelin i get </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like this fancy dress is a costume</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like im just playacting at being a grown-up woman</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i know that feeling. what even are adults?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: good question!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when i was a kid i just thought adulthood was something that happened to you automatically, i think.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like the moment i turned eighteen a briefcase would appear in my hand and i’d have it all figured out, just like my dad seemed to.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can’t believe i’m twenty-three and still a huge loser! i wonder if my dad ever thought that way about himself, like he was just some big dumb kid totally messing everything up but trying to keep up appearances anyway.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dont say that about urself dummy!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... i’m a dummy, but i shouldn’t call myself dumb?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg you KNOW what i meant</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hmm</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy runs one of her thin fingers around the inside rim of her water glass. It makes a very quiet squeaking noise that he can hear over the mumbled conversation around him because they’re sitting so very close. Her lashes look about twice as long in the low, pale light. They shadow her eyes so that he can’t read her expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ya know i didnt even know any adults when i was a kid </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so i got nothin except the legends of how my universes rose and dave died i guess</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but thats not exactly a useful example in this situation</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno. i think sacrificing yourself to take down a brutal clown dictatorship is a pretty good life lesson to internalize in any situation.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol yeah god forbid</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean my idea of a date for the longest time was drinkin a whole bottle of wine alone while cryin in front of my laptop screen</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh same, actually. minus the wine, and the computer screen, ha ha.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just u and ur brain contemplating the infinite loneliness of singular consciousness in a vast cold universe</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: something like that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... i guess neither of us are very good at this, huh?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thats cool with me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: zero expectations means we got nowhere to go but up</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ll toast to that!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John lifts his glass as a cute and cliché thing to do, expecting no reciprocation. But she laughs and actually humors him. The glasses clink together clumsily, and water gets all over the complimentary breadsticks. She starts laughing harder.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: why didnt we do this SOONER</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i love spendin time with you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: youuu knooooow</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its weird to say but</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no one else has ever made me feel like this</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">For some reason, those words make the pit in his stomach grow. He lets out a nervous giggle. His arm starts to shake, so violently that he gets even more water on the free breadsticks. Hoo boy—he’s sweating under the collar. It’s a panic, like what he felt when Roxy almost caught him texting Terezi under the table, except in reverse. What about Calliope, he thinks. John can’t tell what Roxy is thinking. She’s so warm and open and inviting, but when John looks into her eyes... it’s almost like staring into a voi—</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wtf look behind you</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He whips his head around to see... Dave? He’s running down the street, looking back and forth like a hunted man. He spots John and freezes for a moment, obviously trying to compose himself. No one goes still quite like a Strider. He brushes past Gamzee, who is still glued to the window to spy on the date, and swaggers into the restaurant. The look on his face seems to suggest he’s about to throw up, but he keeps it together. His entrance is so smooth that all the dining carapacians in the vicinity immediately stop talking and stare at him as he glides to the table.</p>
    <p>Dave sets his hand just in front of the free breadsticks and angles a look at John through the panels of his shades. It looks like he hasn’t slept, but it’s hard to tell with Dave. He’s out of breath.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey dude </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and roxy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh rather...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey dudes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry to imply that dude wasnt a gender neutral term because it totally is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyone can be a dude if they really want thats part of the beauty of living in this brand new world with none of the baggage our old world had like gender and sexuality and relationships only involving a very specific number of people</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave u ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah totally when am i not ok</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: p often actually</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah im fine theres absolutely nothing strange or awkward going on in my life at all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: unrelated to anything i just said john i gotta talk to you for a sec</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok. go ahead!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i mean like outside</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in private</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: with no one else around</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u SURE youre ok??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah mom im fine</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry that was me being sarcastic about how youre all worried over me when im just ice fucking cold levels of cool at the moment</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not referencing that youre my literal mom which i know is all kinds of awkward every single time i do it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is a lot i guess</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao i dont think its awkward at all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh cool </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: me neither</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: mom</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, roxy’s right. you seem kind of off right now.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah i just had a sudden need for a bro down</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just an unquenchable thirst to be showered in a flashstorm of righteous bro juice</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yikes.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: gotta guzzle the shit out of it like gatorade after a sports match</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: help me out here my brolectrolytes are low</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john just come on its important</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, sure.... roxy, are you fine waiting here by yourself for a while?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea ill just be here eatin breadsticks since we didnt actually order dinner</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: cool! i’ll be right back!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave shoves his hands in his pockets and leads John out into the cool evening air. Gamzee offers a double thumbs-up as they walk past him, which John fiercely ignores.</p>
    <p>John does, however, check his phone. Subtly, but a little desperately. He left Terezi hanging in the middle of a sentence and he’s gotta admit, as much fun as he’s been having with Roxy, there’s an annoying little voice screaming at him underneath everything else he’s done and said tonight that desperately needs to know what else Terezi had to say. Behind Dave’s back as he leads the way, John swipes the screen to catch up with her answers, smiling conspiratorially. </p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            11
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">D</span>ave grabs the sleeve of John’s tux in his sweaty palm, and the two of them fly to the top of the nearest tower. John glances at him en route, and the look on Dave’s face strikes him as that of a man condemned to death. </p>
    <p>The stars stand out along the skyline, so bright in this new world that the outline of every constellation is crisp and clear, even in the middle of the city.</p>
    <p>Dave cups his hands over his knees and stares straight ahead. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo john what do you think about me and karkat</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you two are pretty cute together, i guess?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: together</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i need you to be way more specific here</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, ok. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hmm. i guess i’d have to say that you’re both cute individually when you’re with each other, and you make cute friends, which is why you’re cute together. something about it just works!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like i’m saying cute a lot here. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: for the record, i don’t mean you’re cute as an individual. no offense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alone, you’re just dave.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but together, yeah. you guys are cute.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: together</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like a couple</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave says this so neutrally that John has no idea how to read it, despite having years of practice reading Dave’s many neutral tones.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: er... yes.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s exactly what i mean.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: didn’t i just explain it? good friends make good partners! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re similar in all the right ways, and different in all the even more right ways. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you two balance each other out and keep each other from going off the rails, like when you were kids.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you were both kinda... crazy when we were kids? again, no offense.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats not what i was saying huh about</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was saying huh because that sure was a coherent egbertian thesis on the state of the davekat situation</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, i’ve thought about it that way for a long time. i think it’s what everyone else thinks too.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if id been thinking about it that way i wouldnt be in the mess im in right now</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re in a mess?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theres a metric fucking ton of shit about to come down on me because i dragged my heels on doing some serious self reflection</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is this just some more stuff about...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: being gay?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok definitely yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its 110% about being gay</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought you’d already worked all that stuff out?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: turns out it takes a long time to figure out your sexuality after a childhood filled with repression and abuse</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean yeah i woke the hell up to my inner potential for gayness in a big way</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but then i just kind of pressed the snooze button and rolled back over because we kinda had to fight all those jacks and also create society</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: holy fucking shit.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s a gay snooze button?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah man theres a gay snooze button</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: when i was having my gay coolboy awakening it wasnt a full no homo but it was at least a quarter no homo</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if i hadnt done that then instead of talking to you about this id be at home right now </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: kissing karkat probably</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t get this dave. am i your gay confessor or something? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t need my blessing to go kiss karkat. in fact, i was pretty sure you were already kissing karkat!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nope</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: in that case, as the lord pope of dave’s fully awakened gaydom i give you my blessing to immediately leave and rectify that as soon as possible! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: go now my child, and kiss karkat right on the lips!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok as much as i appreciate how weird a thing that was to say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its not that simple</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i might not exactly be the expert, but kissing seems pretty easy, dave.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sure it gets more complicated in the later stages obviously, but i think you can figure out how to get your lips on his without much trouble.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i mean like</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave makes a couple truly useless hand gestures.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in the greater fabric of our weird incestuous social group</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it might be the wrong move i think</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how so?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: because</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John bites his lip. Oh boy. That’s a complicated problem all right. He loves his sister, but she’s developed a bad habit of sometimes approaching delicate social situations with all the grace of an elephant stumbling around in a dark room. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: right. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i almost managed to forget that she was trying to fuck you and karkat.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave snaps his head around to stare at John in shock.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait you knew about that</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, yeah?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: did you not?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course i knew about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was lookin at the whole thing through several complicated layers of conscious denial but i knew</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its just that you like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: never leave your house</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well it probably helps that jade literally said the words to me... and i may be paraphrasing here, but...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: “hey john, i’m gonna fuck dave and karkat!”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wtf she said that to you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what did you say</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno, it was a while ago. probably that it was a bad idea.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i thought it was kinda obvious... she’s always had a crush on you, dave.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i know</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He sighs and hangs his head, leaning forward with his elbows crossed over his thighs. The angle he’s at gives John a good look at his eyes, which are boring a deep, miserable hole to the center of the Earth right now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats why i think that i should</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: give it a try i guess</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: give what a try? dating jade?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and karkat</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh man, dave. i don’t know. that sounds like it could really blow up in your face.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah thats why im kinda freaking out right now if you didnt notice</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry dude it’s just... do you even like jade?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course i do shes one of my best friends</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no i meant... do you LIKE-like her?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh my god john youre twenty three years old can you at least pretend to talk like a grown man</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok dave, god! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you IN LOVE with jade?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave doesn’t answer. His silence says a lot, John thinks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...are you in love with karkat?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats a big fucking question</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats the biggest fucking question that ever got asked </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its like the paleolithic megafauna of questions like its so familiar but your eyes just glaze over it in denial because its too fucking big</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why did megalodon sharks need to have such big jaws john</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh... to eat smaller sharks?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive never been so fucking terrified by a question in my entire life</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: seriously my heart is pounding so hard right now that i feel like im gonna hurl</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, doesn’t that answer the question?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah because</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: because its not like i feel nothing for jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in fact i feel a whole lot of things for her</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: too many to just tell her off after all this time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean she spent all those years alone on the ship and i know she missed me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and then davesprite died</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or turned into fucking davepeta i was never clear exactly on what happened there</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and god knows he didnt make any attempt to clear the fucking air with her</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but when i think about it neither did i</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so maybe im just a huge asshole whos been leading her on for like a whole goddamn decade at this point</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and if i have been dont i owe it to her to at least try</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if that’s your logic dave, then haven’t you been leading karkat on too?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: doesn’t he deserve the same chance?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, if you think it’s the kind of decision you can lay on another person like this... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why don’t you just flip a coin?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He tilts his face so that he can give John a look. The corner of his lip quirks ambiguously.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: have you been talking to terezi</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn i thought she ghosted everyone</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not me... i guess?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know you thought that sounded like a totally cool thing to say but i dont really think you grasp the full metaphysical implications of whatever youre quoting there</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave sits up and leans back on his palms, his voice sounding lighter in a subtle, almost ephemeral way now that the subject’s changed to something as easy as metaphysics. He catches John’s gaze and makes a rolling gesture with his hand, miming the way a practiced magician would flick a coin over their thumb.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do you know what a coin flip is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like universally i mean in the grand scale of all this time space infinite string theory bullshit were always dealing with</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: of course! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s like when you know that you’ve already made a decision you’re reluctant about, and need an outside force to show you how you really feel?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no dude thats dumb</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you should know this cause youve done the retcon thing</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what does that have to do with flipping coins?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok so every time you flip a coin youre creating an alternate timeline right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: one where it lands heads and one where it lands tails </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but while the coin is flipping both possibilities exist simultaneously</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but what if you knew for sure that you’d make the same decision no matter which side landed up?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you cant</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... it’s like the coin never lands then?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sure</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then if you dated *both* jade and karkat it’d be like you’re winning the schrodinger’s cat paradox.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh yeah thats another theoretical paradox that i think you gotta read up on a bit more there buddy</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i probably won’t, but ok.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fair enough</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but yes metaphysics aside me dating both jade and karkat at the same time literally is the issue at hand and  it is that with which i currently and explicitly struggle</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sure seems that way.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno, dave. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this all just... it doesn’t sound *right* to me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John thinks about the speech Rose gave him that morning on her couch, about canon veracity and the validity or nonvalidity of subjective actions the further they get away from the “intended” sequence of events. Something about... pillars? What is essential, true, and relevant. He remembers those three words, but no other contextual remarks which bind them. That conversation seems so very long ago now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... it doesn’t sound...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: *canon*?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ugh not you too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: rose is always going on about canon</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont give a fuck about canon</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then what DO you give a fuck about?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave sighs and runs a hand through his hair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: doing the right thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this doesn’t seem hard to me at all, dave! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: go home right now and tell karkat how you feel.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: look i</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if i did that it would be like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like what, dave? like you would be really happy, and karkat would also be really happy?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ugh im not explaining myself right i need to</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave staggers uneasily to his feet, staring way past John like he’s looking into the infinity of his own soul right now. John’s never seen him so scared, and it’s over what seems like a pretty easy choice as far as John’s concerned. It sure isn’t easy for him, though. John guesses this is what it means to be a friend. It means being the guy who understands when easy isn’t actually that easy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i have to... talk to dirk i think</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, ok?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John wonders when talking to Dirk has fixed anything for anyone. </p>
    <p>He’s about to ask what exactly it is he needs to talk to Dirk about, but then remembers what he saw when he went back to fetch Gamzee’s fridge in the Medium: Dirk and Dave hugging on the edge of the roof, sharing something private and mysterious, the sort of thing that can only happen between two people whose personalities are cracked in the same way. It’s not something John’s ever had, so it’s not something he can understand. An uncomfortable silence lingers between the two of them. Before John can fill it with some stupid words, he hears Roxy calling up to him from below. He pops his head over the roof and waves at her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: what’s up?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yo boys not to interrupt but we got kicked outta the restaurant for not ordering</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what? really? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what’s even the point of being famous if that can happen?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao i know right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: told u i wasnt classy enough for the joint</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i got all these breadsticks tho so we can reconvene in the park </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: totes romantic</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ten minutes, what u say</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, sounds good! i’ll see you there soon!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She grins up at John with shimmering, adoring eyes. They’re reflecting every star in the sky, all for him. It makes his heart do a weird somersault. It tries to flip frontways, then backwards, and ends up landing on its face instead. He’s feeling too many contradictory things right now. When he turns to look at Dave again, he’s practically translucent. Barely there, half out the door emotionally. John feels like he could have done more, like this whole conversation was sand running through his fingers. It itches at the back of his head, the idea that he might have just fucked up Dave’s entire life. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m... sorry i couldn’t help.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah dude its not your fault</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave gives him a light bro-punch in the arm and tries to smile.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: enjoy your date</p>
    </div></div>
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  "12": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            12
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ake wakes up to the unfamiliar feeling of a cheek on his chest and a thigh slung over his stomach.</p>
    <p>Not that waking up to limbs entwined with some fleeting dalliance was a unfamiliar sensation by any means, but this time something seems off. He’s afraid to open his eyes, because he can’t remember the last few days. The very last thing he does remember—if any of his recollections are to be trusted—is corking open a bottle of alchemized merlot at nine in the morning, as one does, and then doing a brisk session of target practice, which was interrupted by...  </p>
    <p>By... </p>
    <p>Oh fuck. </p>
    <p>Jake’s eyes snap open. His ceiling looks the same as it always does, if a bit tizzy with the eye-splitting headache sending nails of pain through his skull. The gold-flecked flowers carved into his wood-paneled ceiling glitter in the morning light. Jake stares very hard at them because he doesn’t want to look down and confirm his worst fears. </p>
    <p>But his worst fears are confirmed for him without him having to do anything, unfortunately, which seems par for the course.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Good morning.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane sits up in the bed and stretches her arms over her head. Her body is a perfect hourglass in naked profile. Jake’s eyes trace the curve of her spine against his will. They linger in the dip above her hips. Her hair is tousled and she’s not wearing her glasses. Jake actually has to catch his breath at the sight of her. It’s not her attractiveness that was ever in question. It’s everything else about this situation which is the problem.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane..... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What in the blazes happened!?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She turns to face him, giggling into her hand.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Why Jake, I would imagine that you are practiced enough at sexual congress at this point that I shouldn’t have to explain it to you.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane i am quite aware of my reputation but im not some loose strumpet who enters into relations thoughtlessly!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, lighten up.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane blinks and touches a hand to her collarbone, like she doesn’t quite recognize herself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh dear, did you hear what I just said?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Lighten up?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s been quite a while since I’ve thought that way. My, it feels freeing to say. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Lighten up Jake! The election’s off! The economy is stable! Dirk is probably never going to talk to us ever again! And we just... we finally fucked. Hoo hoo hoo!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Did we indeed fuck? Was it merely playing honky tonky with our digits, or did we do the ole gamahuche? Or even worse, the beardsplitting?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Sigh, I don’t know what any of that means but Jake, we definitely did it all.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She crawls towards him with a goofy smile, padding along unsteadily because she can’t see shit without her spectacles. Jake shoots up in bed and scuttles all the way back, until his shoulders hit the frame. Something catches the corner of his eye, and he swivels his head around to see the Trickster Lollipop on his bedside table. It sits, like evidence at a murder scene, beneath an empty bottle of vodka and far more sets of underwear than the number of people accounted for in the room.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Um... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">...Jake says, but Jane shuts him up with a finger over his lips. She slides into his lap and settles her bottom into the space between his thighs. There’s a blanket between the lurid parts of their naked bodies, but Jake cannot rightly move unless he wishes to be dearly compromised. He stutters through several objections, but Jane is plucking all his strings quite mercilessly. He feels like a snake about to be necked by a mongoose.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wh... whats the meaning of the lollipop? I thought we agreed never to use trickster mode when we were... er.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Unsupervised.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What? </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The lollipop was YOUR idea.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I- I must protest jane that does not seem like something that i would agree to in a right state of mind.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m not sure either of us were exactly in the right state of mind, to be honest.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: We, er... had quite a bit to drink over the course of the day, and one thing led to another...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Led to partaking in scandalous confections?!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I don’t know what to tell you, Jake. I’m not pulling your leg.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: In fact, you were the one doing the vigorous leg pulling last night, hoo hoo.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Criminy!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s expression falls. She’d been feeling quite buoyed after a night of jolly—if inebriated—fun, but Jake does not seem to share her enthusiasm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Dear me... was that innuendo a bit too much? I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No its not that. Jane... i... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: All of this feels wrong. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Now i dont want you to get the wrong idea here youre a dear friend and i care for you deeply but i think that what happened between us might have merely been the result of profound inebriation.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake regrets the statement as soon as the words leave his mouth. Jane looks absolutely crushed. Devastated. Like Jake just ripped the rug out from underneath her entire universe.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: What? </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you saying everything we did...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It meant nothing to you?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: That. That isnt what i meant. Jane i simply....</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane stares up at him, her eyes so bright they’re practically clear, like tropical water on a sunny day. She looks like girls do right before they’re about to cry.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Oh, how could he deny her anything? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What was i even saying? Im being terribly foolish. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Sure we may have er. Overdone it a bit on the substance perhaps... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But you know what? To hell with it.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I might not remember everything that happened last night but im sure my passions wouldnt lead me astray.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Youve always been a lovely girl jane. And youve become an even lovelier woman.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why its a surprise this didnt happen sooner!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: May as well, er just go with it? Ha ha!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s not the most rousing speech Jake has ever given, but it seems satisfactory enough for Jane. He releases a tremendously relieved sigh when Jane breaks into a smile.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, Jake!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He flails when she kisses him. But this time, there’s no doubt he hasn’t said no. </p></div>
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  "13": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            13
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">D</span>ave and Dirk don’t talk that much about the heavy stuff. They don’t need to. Dave can hear his brother’s voice in his head.</p>
    <p>Not, like, literally. That would be insane. But Dave knows what his bro is like. Dirk, or a version of him, instilled in Dave a way of living and thinking that would, for better or worse, persist far beyond the first thirteen years of his upbringing. And even on Earth C, it’d be kind of tough to say the dude’s general overbearing demeanor wasn’t sufficient to perpetuate the conditioning. So it’s rare he has to guess what Dirk would say he should do.</p>
    <p>But when it comes to the boondoggle involved with triangulating his interpersonal relationships with Jade and Karkat, Dave is shooting blanks. He has no idea what to do, no idea what to say, and for once, the ghost in his head doesn’t either.</p>
    <p>Once he might have expected the end of the haunting to come as a relief. But now that he finally sits quietly in his own mind, with nothing but his meager faculties to guide his hand, the silence is deafening.</p>
    <p>There’s no time to waste, so he flies directly to his bro’s studio. He needs this. He needs his bro to tell him what to do. Whatever issues the guy might have, Dave has always been able to count on Dirk to give him, as Jake might say, the solid dick. </p>
    <p>Dave knocks on the door, loud, but there’s no answer. Nothing when he calls out Dirk’s name either. Then he tries the knob, and the door swings right open.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you there?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Still no answer. Dave lets himself in. It’s not like his bro would actually mind. They’re family, after all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Silence throughout the studio. Dave starts flitting from room to room, checking for any signs of Dirk.</p>
    <p>This is strange. The guy doesn’t usually go out to do things, unless those things are actively being televised.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude are you like gone i have something i really need to talk to you ab– </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave all but jumps out of his skin with a shriek when he turns to find the last individual in the world he ever expected or wanted to see.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HoNk.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus FUCK</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY wHaTs ShAkInG mY mAn :O)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: gamzee what the FUCK</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: god i think i shit my pants</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’M sOrRy To HeAr ThAt My FiNe BrOtHeR.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: gamzee what the fuck are you doing here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did you follow me here</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: No MaN. i’Ve BeEn WaItInG fOr YoU. hOnK.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh thats so much better</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why the fuck are you doing that</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: bEcAuSe I’m HeRe To BrInG yOu ThE gOoD nEwS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the news of what???</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThE nEwS oF mE, mY mOtHeRfUcKeR.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’M hErE tO hElP yOu GeT aLl Up AnD rEdEeMeD fRoM yOuR wIcKeD sInS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: PuT yOu On A rEaL aRc To SaLvAtIoN, hOnK.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh my fucking god what fucking sins</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wheres dirk</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHeRe’S nO nEeD tO wOrRy AbOuT hIm. :o)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU’rE gOnNa GeT wHaT’s BeSt FoR yOu. He ToLd Me ThAt, AnD i’M gOnNa MaKe SuRe HiS wIsH mAkEs LiKe A mOtHeRfUcKiNg MiRaClE aNd GeTs TrUe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOnK!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did i just walk into a horror movie</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did my bro get fucking axe murdered by a clown</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus christ</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dont tell me his body is down in the basement right now</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU dOn’T gOt AnY nEeD tO gO aNd CoNcErN yOuRsElF wItH hIs MoRtAl FlEsH bOdY oUt HeRe In ThIs CaNdYcAnE wHiRlPoOl BeYoNd ThE iNfInItE bLaCk WiNk Of ThE wIcKeD sInGuLaRiTy, My NiNjA.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: a SaCk Of MeAt AnD bOnEs In OnE lIfE oR tHe NeXt Is OnLy A mEaNs To ThE fInAl ToTaLiTy ThAt WiLl DaMn AnD rAiSe Us AlL iN bRiLlIaNt ApOtHeOsIs. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: In ThE oNe TrUe LiFe We AlL fLoW fRoM tHe OnE tRuE pEn,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd EvErY hEaD rOlLs DoWn ThE pAtH tO tHe OnE tRuE hAnD.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what the fuck did any of that mean are you drunk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: n/m i dont give a shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: out of my way pagliacci</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave has had enough of this buffoon. He pushes Gamzee aside, and the clown goes absolutely flying into one of Dirk’s messy work benches. The vagrant jester ricochets off disorganized piles of scrap metal and anime paraphernalia like a <em>Tony Hawk</em> jackass clipping and flopping into an unending oblivion of pain. The circus ruckus starts a vicious Rube Goldberg machine of cartoon physics, knocking every cinder block, crusty puppet, and Japanese sword in a tornado’s radius off balance and avalanching them catastrophically onto the hapless clown’s torso.</p>
    <p>Dave gives only a second glance to the ludicrous pandemonium. He blows open the door to the stairwell and heads down, bracing himself for the worst. But he doesn’t find Dirk in the basement either.</p>
    <p>The only thing of note is a slumped figure in the center of the storage room, covered in a thin sheet. Dave approaches and rips it off to discover... Wait. What is this?</p>
    <p>It’s obviously a robot, but it’s a complete mess. The form is feminine, but the head is still bald, and the face has no cover, revealing its skull-like interior. The body doesn’t have any proper protective plating yet, so it’s all a mess of wires and loose mechanical bits. Clearly a work in progress. But Dave can’t help but wonder what exactly it is that Dirk’s been working on here?</p>
    <p>Then Dave notices the note. It’s carefully folded in the limp palm of the robot’s hand. His heart jumps into his throat, and something in his stomach drops.</p>
    <p>Oh, no.</p></div>
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE THREE</h2>
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            14
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>our name is Dirk Strider, and you know what you must do.</p>
    <p>The decision was made the moment John chose his course. This world has been set on a path that you cannot tread.</p>
    <p>You stand beneath the carapacian bell tower, poised to climb to the top. You’ve brought nothing with you but a long length of rope, coiled in your steady fist. It is the only thing that you need.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Ascend.</p>
    <p>You do not hesitate. Your legs feel impressively powerful as you begin to climb the staircase, two steps at a time. There is nothing of consequence but your singular task.</p>
    <p>You left a note, but you don’t expect any of your friends to understand. It’s not important that they do. A flip of the cosmic coin has rendered your entire life completely inessential. What could you accomplish in a dead-end existence like this? There are no stakes. No meaningful challenges. No structures or themes—only residual chemical reactions in a dying brain, a physical system’s obligate compulsion to exhaust its own lingering momentum. A cockroach with its head cut off, waiting to die of thirst.</p>
    <p>Halfway up the tower, you take flight. Every second you waste here is a drain on the concept of existence itself. You whip up the hollow vertical shaft at the center of the spiraling stairs and erupt into the air beneath the bell. You land on the ledge overlooking the Carapace Kingdom below and cast a cursory glance across the landscape beneath you. Its beautiful scenery is a comical illusion of no matter to you. </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Get to work.</p>
    <p>Your hands move methodically to fashion the hangman’s noose. It is a gesture you have practiced well. You bunch a section of the rope into an S, and loop the end of the rope around its middle. Seven wraps, and you’re done. You tie it off at the bottom, then tug the rope taut. </p>
    <p>The corrosion has already begun. You can feel the gears slowing, all the intricate, unseen mechanisms coming unhinged from their mooring and drifting apart.</p>
    <p>Your friends might derive some sense of fulfillment from satisfying the elementary obligations of self-preservation and self-propagation, but there’s nothing here for you. It doesn’t matter anymore.</p>
    <p>There is a beam across the opening of the face of the bell tower that will serve as a convenient anchor for the rope. You toss the noose up over the beam and then rise to fasten the knot. You ensure that it is secure. There can be no mistakes.</p>
    <p>You touch back down on the ledge of the tower. You bring the noose over your head and pull it tight.</p>
    <p>Your choice is not between that of life and death. It is between an ignominious dissolution at the hands of entropy, and one final act of relevance that can bequeath your meager energies to the cosmic well from whence they came.</p>
    <p>In a certain sense, you’ve never felt so free.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Kill yourself.</p>
    <p>You jump.</p>
    <p>A meaningful death would, of course, be quick. Brutal. An expeditious descent, a splash of crimson at the base of the bell tower, a body that looks otherwise intact if you don’t flip it over to see the dark, mottled bruises where the fetid, septic blood has begun to pool. You made certain that the rope was long enough for the velocity of your fall to immediately decapitate you. It slices through the air with a vicious whipping sound, unspooling in even, silk-smooth rotations. Just as your epiphany occured at sunset, your death must occur at sunrise to complete the ouroboros of symbological harmonic resonance that is your personal arc. </p>
    <p>It is the very last moment of narratively consequential action that will happen in this whole, barren world. The few carapacians unfortunate enough to have left their homes this early in the morning will remember this moment forever, but in reality, it lasts only half a second. The noise your cervical spine makes when it sunders is indescribably gruesome. Many of the bystanders who witness your death will later attempt to recount it, but there really are no words that can adequately express the sound someone makes when they die. It’s a phenomenon that happens on two levels. First, there is the literal termination of organic processes, which is to say, the destruction of the meat. Then follows the dissolution of the ego. And you have quite the ego to dissolve, one that has flown so high above the forest that not only can it no longer see the trees, it cannot even conceive of the trees as material substance with objective meaning. </p>
    <p>Yours is a singularity of narcissism—an endlessly recursive existence so dense that it has no choice but to sprawl out much further than the boundaries of its person in any given universe or timeline. Once cut off from that, you become unbearably dispensable. From a purely utilitarian perspective, killing yourself is the greatest gift you could give to this dying world. A valorous sacrifice the likes of which this place will never experience again. If your severed head could speak, it might say, “You’re welcome.” But even then, maybe it wouldn’t. It might not care enough to do this shallow realm even that basic courtesy. We may never know.</p>
    <p>Your severed head remains suspended in the loop of the noose, tight under your jaw, while your limp body bounces off the side of the bell tower and tumbles to the grass.</p>
    <p>Screams sound from below. The horrified carapacian bystanders scatter and run. Your body tumbles down the side of the hill, spraying blood from its neck in a volume that makes the foot of the tower look like the scene of a massacre. </p>
    <p>Your heart keeps beating well after you’re dead. It keeps beating until every drop of blood is forced from your corpse, a sea of gore drenching the earth beneath the scene of your demise.</p>
    <p>Your body doesn’t get up, and your head doesn’t open its eyes. When you think so little of yourself as a moral character, any act of self-termination will result in a death that is Just. </p></div>
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  "15": |-
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            15
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he rain is coming down in sheets. It rains just seldom enough on this idyllic world that most of its inhabitants are conditioned to leave their homes without umbrellas, and today they’re paying for it. The press clamors at the edges of the funeral procession, getting soaked to the bone and/or exoskeleton. John ducks his head away from the flash of cameras, still uncomfortable with his position among the pallbearers. He didn’t know Dirk that well, but he couldn’t refuse a direct request from a grieving bro. He ventures a glance at Dave, who is at the front of the line carrying a smaller casket containing Dirk’s decapitated head. </p>
    <p>The actual casket is unusually heavy, not just because Jane insisted on having it crafted from the finest-quality timber on the planet, but also because for some unfathomable reason Dirk is going to be buried with every single one of his shitty anime swords. It would be absurd were it not so tragic, and possibly also predictable. Gamzee fumbles with his corner of the casket when it comes time to set it down in the cathedral, upsets the balance of the whole thing, and sends it careening down so hard that the nose of it crashes right through the stage.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: OoOpS mOtHeRfUcKeRs.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oops???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its fine gamz</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: accidents happen</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John presses his mouth into a flat line. He looks at Dirk’s casket, sitting diagonally in a hole in the floor and popped about 13% of the way open. A few shitty swords seem to have made a valiant effort to escape, but didn’t quite make it all the way. He looks at Dave, who appears even more stoic than usual, with his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looks at Roxy, who is staring at the floor, rather beside herself in grief. Then, finally, he looks back to Gamzee, who offers two dubiously sympathetic “whoops” in response.</p>
    <p>Today is not the day to push it, he thinks to himself. He forces a smile, kisses Roxy on the cheek and goes to take his seat in the front row of the pews. At the back of the nave, devastated fans of <em>RUMBLE IN DA PUMPKIN PATCH</em> are trying to force their way inside, past the barrier of reporters. Jane drags Jake off by the wrist to deal with them as Roxy approaches the pulpit, looking miserably ghostlike in her violet mourning clothes. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey thx everyone for joining me today </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She folds her hands in front of her. Her earrings light up as the reporters at the back take about six million pictures of her tear-stained face. She sniffs, then hocks back a whole mouthful of snot. The sound is very much in contrast with the delicate, feminine manner with which she tugs a tissue out of her modest cleavage in order to dab at her eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow now that im up here its like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i have no idea what to say </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Of course she doesn’t. Dirk was her first BFF, her first love, and at one time, the only other human being left on Earth. She rolls the wet tissue between her fingers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and i guess thats cuz there IS nothing to say</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres no words to describe how i felt about dirk strider</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and even tho he left a note that had hella words in it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: they might as well have been sayin nothing</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: which is just like dirk i guess</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: to leave us with a load of bullshit and no idea why he did what he did</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so im just gonna say that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im glad that he was in my life</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and give it over to someone whos way more eloquent than me</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave gets to his feet, unwinding his fingers from Jade’s. He walks to the pulpit with his usual smoothness but pauses beneath the giant stained glass window to run the heel of his palm under his shades. The camera bulbs start clacking away like crazy. John whirls around in his seat to glare at the reporters, putting a finger to his mouth to shoosh them. He watches a tiny, white-carapaced chess guy sheepishly press the flash button on his camera as quietly as possible.</p>
    <p>It takes Dave a moment to gather himself when he reaches the lectern, but when he speaks his voice is steady and even.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey guys</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wanna apologize in advance cuz this is about to get a lil real</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: realer than that three quarters of a corpse im standing about two feet from right now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean i totally hate to ruin everyones mood on a day where weve gathered to think deep thoughts about how one of us just went and fucking offed themselves</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not like were gonna be stumbling through our lives constantly experiencing intrusive thoughts about this specific event or anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey remember what our good pal dirk looked like with no head</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: p hard to forget since getting decapitated was like his third favorite hobby</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so its not so much the body thats the problem but the sorta</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: existential realization of finality i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: though i aint gonna lie the bodys starting to stink</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry all that shit i just said was a load of absolute bull meant to deflect from the fact that im pretty shook about this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i used to do that a lot</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like basically every time i opened my mouth</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: most of you know this but i had a kinda shitty childhood</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not gonna go into details but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: long story short it was technically my good ol bro-dad heres fault</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not this specific version of him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the one i grew up with was a </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he was</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave hesitates. His voice might be cracking, but it’s subtle.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he was just an absolute bastard no offense to the dead</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah ok sure he taught me a ton of shit that if were being generous was in theory useful</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but he didnt give a single solitary shit about raising a well adjusted kid</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: raising a kid in general</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was more like his disciple</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and all that mattered was his grand design or wtf ever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and i know dirk struggled with </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the idea that he could eventually become that kind of person</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or even worse that he was somehow cosmically fated to become that person no matter what he wanted or did to prevent it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats prolly how he managed to off himself in the first place considering how the mechanics of god tier works</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe hed been struggling with that the whole time weve been here on earth c</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: who knows with him </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he was always so inside his own head i cant even imagine what insane train of thought led him to decide that this was his only option</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i dont think hed want us beating ourselves up about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or torturing ourselves trying to figure out what it fucking meant</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: esp jake jane and roxy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he loved you guys and wouldnt do anything to hurt you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well not intentionally i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway all that shit about my bro </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im over that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like as much as you can get over it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theres a subconscious response to certain stimuli you cant exactly rewire</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but the conscious part of my brain is all like </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shit dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i feel great</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wtf is hypervigilance?? </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i love being alive and having all these friends who care about me and dont beat the shit out of me every day of my life</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: etc</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and part of thats cause i got to be friends with dirk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it was great getting to know this rad version of my childhood guardian who wasnt completely batshit insane</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and like just chill with him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shoot the shit and freestyle or debate dumb crap without it being a federal fucking issue</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and more than that he treated me like i was on the level with him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he let me give him shit for being a pretentious blowhard every day of his life</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which i did</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but despite that i</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i looked up to him </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the way i always felt like i should have been looking up to my bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the way i WANTED to look up to my bro but couldnt</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirk taught me so much shit i didnt know i needed from him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean picking up dirks opinions was unavoidable if you ever hung out with him considering he never shut his fucking mouth</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but im glad he didnt</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he taught me about combat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: philosophy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: life</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and im sure had he not killed himself the literal day i was finally gonna ask him romantic advice</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he wouldve taught me about love too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so in the end</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i really got no idea how the fuck im supposed to feel right now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but thats probably ok right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like its ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: to not know how to feel when someone dies</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its ok to not have all the answers</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i wish dirk were still alive so i could tell him that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but hes not</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave takes a deep, shuddering breath and actually takes off his shades to wipe away the tears that are pooling on his eyelashes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE:  i guess thats all i got to say about that</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake is openly weeping by the time the speech is over, his face buried in Jane’s breasts. She’s remarkably composed—looking more irritated than anything that her gentleman companion is getting snot all over her attractively tailored power suit. Dave leaves the stage, face turned away from the glare of the camera lights, and Roxy takes her place at the pulpit once again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: anyone else have a eulogy theyd like to give</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think the best way we can honor dirks memory at this point</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is to spew an untold number of words into the void</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: as many as we fuckin can</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose—who had been staring off into space with a peculiar expression on her face during Dave’s speech—snaps to attention. She brushes Kanaya’s hand off her lap and goes to stand, but is interrupted by the horrible, squelching sound of Gamzee lumbering to his feet in his wet, oversized boots. He saunters up to the pulpit with the precise lazy gait of one who’s grown far too comfortable with a lifelong tendency of unwittingly inspiring others’ contempt, and braces his arms on either side of the lectern. If inside this church there were an adjacent room full of wet dogs eating garbage, everyone in attendance would run to that room immediately to escape the stench emanating from this smiling clown. Suddenly, his expression distorts, to become something which can only be described as a leer.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhAt’S uP oN tHiS mOsT rIgHtEoUs AnD fRoWnY Of DaYs My BiTcHeS. :’o(</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY, GAMZEE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HaHaHaHa YoU sTiLl GoT iT bRoThEr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mY mOtHeRfUcKeR oF cOmEdY’s In ThA pRaYbLoCk! ThAt MiRtHfUl NoIsE yOu HoLlEr StIlL sLaPs My MaNg.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S NOT A FUCKING JOKE.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee clears his throat quite loudly and abruptly, sending ear-shattering echoes throughout the church. It sounds like someone just threw a toilet in a woodchipper.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NiNjAs AnD gEnTlEhOeS!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: We GaThEr Up At ThIs ShRiNe Of WoRsHiP tO wHaTeVeR fAlSe IdOlS oR mEsSiAhS tHeSe HoMiEs GeT tHeIr DeVoTiOn On FoR.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BuT tHaT’s Ok, BeCaUsE wE’rE mOtHeRfUcKiN uNiFiEd ToDaY, nO mAtTeR wHaT oUr BaD aNd DiFfErEnT bElIeFs SaY aT uS tO oUr PiEtY pAnS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: We CoMe In CeLeBrAtIoN oF tHe LiFe! :o)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd DeAtH. :o(</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Of ThE oNe AnD oNlY, a TrUlY cHoIcE pIeCe Of MaN-bItCh WhAt WhOm I hArDlY eVeR kNeW:</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHe DiRkStEr.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThEn, YoU mIgHt Be Up AnD wOnDeRiNg, WhAt PlAcE hAvE i GoT aLl OrAtInG oN tHe SuBjEcT oF tHe LeGeNd Of ThIs FiNe FeLlOw?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHaT’s A gOoD qUeStIoN mY mIrThFuL bRoThErS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i MaY nOt Be AlL uP aNd LeArNeD aBoUt HiS lIfE, bUt I’vE gOt DeEp SpIrItAl CoNnEcTiOnS tO hIs DeAtH.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: It JuSt So HaPpEnEd ThAt FaTe BrOuGhT mE tO hIs DoOrStEp On ThE vErY dAy ThAt He WeNt AnD mOtHeRfUcKiNg ChOkEd It OfF aT tHe NeCk.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: oNe Of ThE mOsT sPiRiTuAlLy AwAkEnInG mOmEnTs In My LiFe... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: In SuCh A sHoRt TiMe He TaUgHt Me So MuCh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThIs WaS nO cOiNcIdEnCe. It WaS a HiGhEr PoWeR gUiDiNg My PaTh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHeSe PoWeRs MaDe SuRe ThAt I wOuLd Be ThErE, tO rEcEiVe A gReAt WaRrIoR’s FiNaL mEsSaGe, AnD rElAy It To YoU oN tHiS dArK aNd DrEaRy DaY oF dEaTh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HoNk!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The clown thrusts his hand somewhere beneath the waistband of his pants and starts obscenely rooting around. He retrieves a piece of paper, crumpled and soaked from the rain outside, and attempts to smooth it out over the lectern. The wet paper breaks apart immediately beneath his oafish clown paws.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AwWw, ShIzZ. i GuEsS i’Ve GoT tO uP aNd WiNg It!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk’s close friends in the audience look on with anxious anticipation, eager to hear whatever important message Dirk had apparently handed down to Gamzee to be passed on. John can’t seem to find that optimism himself.</p>
    <p>Gamzee draws a big, fat breath, and begins his speech.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU eVeR wAkE uP aNd SiT dOwN tO dRoP a FaT oNe In ThE lOaD gApEr, BuT yOuR fLeSh BoDy JuSt AiN’t ReAdY tO gO aNd DoOk It OuT yEt?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The clown’s words hang heavily in the air. He scans the crowd, silent for a uncomfortable while, as if his question weren’t rhetorical and he were expecting an answer that will never come.  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHaT’s WhAt LiFe WaS lIkE fOr ThE d-MaN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: A mAn BoRn WiTh A pUrPoSe. A pLaN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: bUt ThE wIcKeD wAyS oF tHiS wOrLd StOlE tHaT aWaY fRoM hIm... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It goes on like this for some time. Members of the audience ride out the clown’s eulogy with an admirable sense of grit and determination, though visibly reacting with full body spasms every time the preacher issues another punctuating honk or deeply inappropriate turn of phrase. Karkat continues heckling him all throughout, and at one point delivers no less than thirty uninterrupted instances of the phrase “FUCK YOU.” Throughout most of the eulogy, Roxy continues attempting to urge others to settle down and give him a chance, based on the many endorsements she’s heard of his spiritual oration skills. But even she gives up on this effort when one especially boisterous honk results in Gamzee knocking over the lectern entirely, which he does not bother to pick up. Instead, he proceeds with his eulogy as if nothing happened, while openly scratching an itch beneath his codpiece.</p>
    <p>At this point, Dave has had enough, and exits the church. Karkat follows him. Gamzee inhales deeply, preparing to launch into what quite possibly will be the full body of his speech, rather than one or two mercifully concluding remarks. Roxy stands up and begins clapping loudly to bring a heroic end to the elocutionary horror show.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: WOW WASNT THAT GREAT FOLKS!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: WOW JUST WOW I KNEW THIS GUY WOULDNT LET US DOWN</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: BRAVO!!! DAMN I FEEL LIKE IF I NEVER HEARD ANOTHER WORD THIS GUY EVER SAID THATD BE FINE BECAUSE THAT WAS ALL JUST SO *PERFECT* </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ANYTHING MORE WOULD ONLY DAMPEN THIS PERFECT MEMORY HE GAVE US!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: TAKE A BOW GAMZEE AND THEN OH YEAH THE EXITS THAT WAY!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOoOoOoOoOnK.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She nudges Jake.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: (hey dude can u get up there and say somethin as like...)</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: (a palate cleanser?)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gulp! Uh... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: (he was your best bro! come on man surely u got somethin in ur heart to say)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh... Okay.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hay everybody its jakes turn!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hes got a few words hed like to say about our dear departed buddy</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: (oh for fuck’s sake.)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John mutters a few imprecations under his breath and gets up before Jake can take the stage. He’s concerned about Dave and heads for the exit, beating Gamzee there easily. Gamzee’s strolling so leisurely, in fact, he’s barely even made it off the stage yet.</p>
    <p>John pushes out into the churchyard. The rain has receded into a light drizzle, which is nice. Much less like being being trapped in a high-pressure shower and more like being sprayed with a plant mister. He looks around the largely decorative graveyard and spots Dave and Karkat huddled together beneath an eave of the churchyard walls. John begins to move towards them but stops when he notices how close together they’re standing. Dave’s got his suit jacket unbuttoned and pulled over Karkat’s head to shield him from the rain. Karkat’s the one talking—his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed, but his gaze soft. Whatever he’s saying makes Dave turn his face away, but Karkat winds a hand in his shirt and tugs him in, forces him to make eye contact. They both go still, seeming to finally realize how close their faces have gotten, how Karkat’s fingers are brushing down the length of Dave’s torso. Dave dips down so that their noses are bumping. Karkat’s eyes are so wide it’s amazing they don’t pop out. For a moment, it looks like they’re going to...  </p>
    <p>John sneezes.</p>
    <p>Dave and Karkat jump apart like opposing magnets.</p>
    <p>Oops.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uhh, hi guys!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John waves dopily and hopes that he doesn’t look as buffoonish and mortified as he feels. Dave and Karkat are still staring at each other from the corners of their eyes, warily. Something silent and tense passes between them.</p>
    <p>They make a quick recovery.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I SEE THAT EVEN YOU COULDN’T BEAR GAMZEE’S ASININE, BRUTAL AND 100% NONCONSENSUAL ASSAULT ON YOUR LISTEN CRATERS, AND ALSO THE BASIC DECENCY WHICH SAPIENT BEINGS APPARENTLY OWE TO ONE ANOTHER ON THIS PLANET.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, um, actually i listened to the entire thing.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i have no idea why i did that. now i have this whole memory in my head that i could have definitely lived without.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was just worried... because you didn’t come back.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave, are you ok?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave glances at Karkat again. He... smiles. It’s a sad smile, but it’s there.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but its ok to not be ok about this specific thing i think</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so for once i think im having like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a totally unironically normal emotional reaction to a thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which loops around back to being ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in fact im probs the okayest ive ever been objectively</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you SURE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WAS HALF A HUNDRED WORDS TO EXPRESS A THREE LETTER SENTIMENT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’D SAY HE’S DOING FINE.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hmm. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because i was thinking... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John chews the inside of his mouth and blinks down at his hands. Now that he’s paused to think a little, what he’s about to offer is a pretty weird way to console a friend after the death of a loved one. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you... want me to go back?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave quirks an eyebrow.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: go </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: back??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: with my retcon powers.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i could go back and stop him.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave says at the same time that Karkat shouts:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JOHN!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DO YOU NOT HAVE AN INCH OF GODDAMN SENSE IN THAT THICK FUCKING SKULL OF YOURS?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: come on what are my powers</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ummm... time travel?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so you dont think i wouldve already done that if i thought it was a good idea</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well ok yeah, obviously.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but if you DID do it we wouldn’t even know right now because it would’ve just made a new timeline where dirk didn’t kill himself. that’s how time travel works, right?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ehhh well actually </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave makes a wavy hand gesture that implies he’s about to jump into a rant about causality or whatever. John cuts him off.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: but!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if i retcon it...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then it’s like it never even happened!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we wouldn’t have had this horrible funeral at all.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno dude thats</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a little fucked up actually</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you think so?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirk was a complicated guy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude obviously had reasons for doing what he did</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if you go back and just rewrite his decision</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats like denying him his personal autonomy</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh. i... didn’t think about it that way.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John frowns. Dave opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s cut off by Jade poking her head out of the church window.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave!!! roxys wondering where you are</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah be right there</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what about you karkat? you coming??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES! GOD!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CAN’T A MAN STAND ON A MOIST AND DREARY PIECE OF RELIGIOUS PROPERTY TO HELP CONSOLE HIS MAIN BRO?!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JESUS FUCK, GOD FORBID WE UPSET THE CAREFULLY ORCHESTRATED FUNERAL PROGRAMMING WHICH JUST FEATURED A SEGMENT WHEREIN A DEEPLY UNPOPULAR CLOWN PISSED HIMSELF IN FRONT OF THE CLAMORING PAPARAZZI! </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh lord... you dumb baby</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat it looks to ME like youre the one third wheeling dave and johns poignant brotimes</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: so why dont you get your butt on over here???</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARGH... FINE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat stomps back toward the church, bickering with Jade his way across the graveyard. Dave adjusts his shades and puts a hand on John’s shoulder.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i get what you were trying to do</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its ok dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im ok</p>
    </div>
    <p>John nods, swallowing hard. His throat is dry all of a sudden. Dave turns and walks back into the church. Once John is absolutely sure Dave is gone, he closes his eyes, breathes in deep through the nose and raises both his hands.</p>
    <p>Nothing happens.</p>
    <p>John cracks one eye open. It’s been a while since he’s tried to do... well, anything more complicated than going out for dinner to be honest. Has he just forgotten how to invoke his game powers?</p>
    <p>Do the windy thing, he thinks to himself. A brisk breeze howls through the graveyard, rustling some leaves off a nearby tree.</p>
    <p>Nope, that’s all good.</p>
    <p>Do the... retcon thing? He thinks much, much harder than he thought about doing the last thing. </p>
    <p>Still nothing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s weird... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it was working just the other day.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He stares at his hands so hard that his head starts to hurt. So hard that he doesn’t hear the footsteps sloshing through the wet grass behind him. When Roxy taps him on the shoulder he yelps and shoots six feet up into the air.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao john its just me</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John spins around to greet her. He hides his hands behind his back like he was doing something bad with them. Which he guesses he was, kind of. Roxy shields her eyes against the rain and laughs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: doin ok up there b?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m fine!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait. b?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John lands softly, close enough to Roxy that she can slide a hand up his arm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea like short for babe</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cuz ur my babe b</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, haha. right.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John feels himself flush and runs an awkward hand through his hair. He’s still a little embarrassed to show affection in public places like this. He slips a hand into the small of Roxy’s back and feels a pang of guilt about what he saw transpire between Dave and Karkat earlier.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is dave ok?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are YOU okay?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her gaze gets distant as she stares at something over John’s shoulder. Whatever she’s thinking about, it tugs a soft smile across her face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: actually </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im more than ok</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cause ive been thinking</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy starts dancing her fingers up John’s chest.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: about you n me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and this</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She bops him on the nose. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we should get hitched</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ummmmmm... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John stares at where Roxy’s finger is still pressing down on his nose and goes a little cross-eyed as his brain tries to process what she just said.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...what???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um what WHAT?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john cmon</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: marry me</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John looks around the graveyard nervously.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: right NOW?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao totes</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were already at the church n everything</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: o-oh my god.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, are you serious??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy starts laughing so hard she has to wipe away a tear. She leans in to give John a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no LOL</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john u take everything so literally</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its fuckin adorbs</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is that... why you want to marry me?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im off the charts with all my jokes n shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and i gotta even all that out</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: with this like HUGE helping of clueless nerd :)</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ok but lets be serious here moment</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i actually do love that youre so earnest</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its cute as fuck and also</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i always know where i stand with you</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sides this whole</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: THING with dirk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its made me realize that even though were immortal</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were not necessarily gonna live forever</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lifes too short not to spend every moment with the one u love</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">That word hits John like a suckerpunch to the gut. He goes breathless with shock; adrenaline pumping through him, his blood rushing in his ears. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: LOVE me??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea john i love you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wanna marry u and spend the rest of my life with u and pop out a bunch of cute lil buck toothed babies with you</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, uh. haha, wow. roxy that’s um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s a LOT.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well you dont gotta answer rn</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just know its on the table</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He doesn’t know what to think. He so doesn’t know what to think that he’s spiraling inside his head, shaking all over, damp with sweat. Something about this doesn’t feel... right? Just a few weeks ago, Roxy was happy with Calliope, and now she wants to have his babies? John feels like he’s missing something important here, like he went for a bathroom break during the part of the movie where the plot twist happens. He should give Roxy some time, get himself some space. It’s all happened so fast that it’s suffocating.</p>
    <p>On the other hand... </p>
    <p>...on the other hand, isn’t that how love’s supposed to feel? Like a quick plunge into cold water, a feeling that grows unexamined, and then gets so big that the realization washes over you like a wave? Roxy’s unbearably beautiful with moisture clinging to her eyelashes and a smile that she’s only smiling because of how much she likes him. She likes him so much that she wants to be around him every single day! John’s stomach feels like it’s doing pirouettes. His hands come up around Roxy’s shoulders, and keep going until he’s cupping her face in both hands. He starts giggling.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, let’s... let’s do it!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy waggles her eyebrows.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ooo u want to do it??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: er... i mean... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, yeah. that too.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i meant...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: about the getting married thing.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let’s... do that!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let’s totally get married!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy practically attacks John’s mouth, she’s so excited. John shuts his eyes and kisses her back, still giddy and laughing against her lips. She kisses him until they’re both breathless, then pulls back so that she can gaze at him with glittering eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were gonna be SO freakin happy!</p>
    </div></div>
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  "16": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE FOUR</h2>
    <div class="pos-r pad-t-sm pad-x-lg--md type-center" style="overflow:visible; height:72px;">
    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            16
          </h3>
    </div>
    </div>
    </div>
    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-lg" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey terezi, guess where i am right now?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR HUM4N W3DD1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: considering that humans are the only species on earth c with the concept of weddings, technically all weddings are human weddings, so there’s really no reason to qualify it like that terezi.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH3N D1D YOU G3T SO HUNG UP ON S3M4NT1CS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when i became a real adult.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: speaking of which, no. i am not at my human wedding.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that was months ago!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you forgot! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought you said you’d try to make it back in time for it.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN 1 T4LK3D TO YOU Y3ST3RD4Y</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i knew time moved differently out there than it does here, but that’s really something else.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s been almost six months for me.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, well in that case, i guess i can forgive you for missing my wedding.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU C4N DO TH4T 1F YOU W4NT BUT 1 N3V3R 4CTU4LLY 4SK3D FOR YOUR FORG1V3N3SS H3H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 1 H4V3 NO 1NT3NT1ON OF 4POLOG1Z1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: pff, it’s not me you need to apologize to.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everyone really wanted to see you!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: kanaya, dave and karkat have all asked about you like, a zillion times.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R34LLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4 Z1LL1ON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok i’m *obviously* exaggerating for effect, but they’ve asked a lot. karkat says you’ve been ignoring his messages for literal years at this point.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, now that i’m thinking about it... why am i the only one you ever answer?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, we weren’t even that close, were we? not like you were with him.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT OV3RTH1NK 1T 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU W3R3 JUST TH3 MOST 4NNOY1NG 4BOUT B31NG GHOST3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: F4R TOO 4NNOY1NG TO 1GNOR3 H3H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: thanks terezi. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ll have that one put on my tombstone.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S PL34S3 DO, 1MMORT4L1Z3 MY P33RL3SS BRUT4L DUNK1NGS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 G3T TH3 1MPR3SS1ON TH4T 3V3RYON3 1S GO1NG W4Y TOO 34SY ON YOU 1N MY 4BSC3NC3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah, it’s seriously horrible. i’m suffering under all the positive attention from my caring friends.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOW *W4S* YOUR... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: D3FU4LT CULTUR3 P41R M4T1NG 3V3NT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: my wedding? um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: good i guess?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: really good actually.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you should have seen roxy. she was so beautiful in her dress!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, there were some awkward patches, but it was mostly ok.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4WKW4RD P4TCH3S? L1K3 WH4T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W4S G4MZ33 TH3R3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: er, yeah. but he wasn’t that bad for once.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he mostly just hung out by the punch and tried to touch jake’s ass.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jake... oh god, ok see, the worst part was when roxy had to throw the bouquet, right?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jane and jake are kinda, um, together now. </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH GOD</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and she basically ordered jake to catch the bouquet “or else.”</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was seriously afraid for him. and then he didn’t even catch it!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY D1D SH3 W4NT 1T SO B4D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1S 1T 3D1BL3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whoever catches the bouquet is the next couple to get married.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HUH? 1S TH4T TH3 L4W 1N HUM4N CULTUR3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, no... there’s no law. </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3N WH4T SORT OF B1ND1NG CONTR4CT 3X1STS SURROUND1NG TH3 BOUQU3T TO M4K3 1T SO D3S1R34BL3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: none! it’s just a thing humans do for fun.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO 1TS 4 SUP3RST1T1ON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’d call it more of a tradition... although in the case of jane and jake, superstition might be a more appropriate word.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH1S STORY H4S 4 LOT OF 3XTR4N3OUS D3T41LS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR3 R34LLY B4D 4T GOSS1P1NG, DO YOU KNOW TH4T JOHN?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: G3T TO TH3 JU1CY B1TS! WHO C4UGHT TH3 BOUQU3T? &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, well. it was jade. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...jade, dave and karkat.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4LL THR33 OF TH3M?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DO3S TH4T M34N... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. they’re all dating.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or rather... jade is dating them both.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave and karkat haven’t... exactly figured things out yet. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and as much as i love jade, i don’t actually think she’s helped matters by putting herself in the middle of it.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMM &gt;:[ </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOM3HOW TH4T DO3SNT S33M R1GHT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and that’s why it was so messed up that jade caught the bouquet!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: now i have to pretend to laugh and think it’s funny when she makes jokes about being the next to “tie the knot.”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WOW D1D SH3 R34LLY GO FOR TH4T DOUBL3 3NT3NDR3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what do you mean?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: N3V3R M1ND</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4NYW4Y SOUNDS L1K3 4 TOUGH L1F3 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4H4H4H4</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: har har. ok you’re right. things are pretty good right now if that’s the worst thing i have to complain about.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: things’ll probably work out with those three anyway. things always work out between old friends. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we’ve all known each other for too long for anything to cause a permanent rift.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOUR3 NOT 4T YOUR HUM4N W3DD1NG R1GHT NOW... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH3R3 *4R3* YOU?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH MY GOD 4R3 YOU S3R1OUS, YOU H4V3 TH3 M3MORY OF 4 CUTTL3F1SH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU OP3N3D TH1S CONV3RS4T1ON BY 4SK1NG M3 TO GU3SS WH3R3 YOU 4R3 R1GHT NOW!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m... at the hospital.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:0</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BL33D1NG? &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what the hell, terezi?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i’m not fucking bleeding.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS UNFORTUN4T3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1N TH4T C4S3 </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU OK? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heheheh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, i’m more than okay. i’m great!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not here for me. it’s for roxy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she’s pregnant!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PR3GN4NT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it means that we’re going to have a baby!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 KNOW WH4T PR3GN4NT M34NS JOHN!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T JUST S33MS... K1ND4 F4ST</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, it’s what happens when people get married!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 HUM4NS NOT C4P4BL3 OF H4V1NG S3X UNL3SS TH3Y 3NT3R 4 CONTR4CTU4L 4RR4NG3M3NT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: god damnit terezi.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL? 4R3NT TH3Y??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: of course they are!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but... marriage is what makes it special.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3H3H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH NOTH1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR3 JUST SO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let me guess.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sooo dumb, bluh bluh.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL TH4T TOO, BUT 1 W4S 4CTU4LLY GO1NG TO S4Y</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4DOR4BL3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...what?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 H4V3 TO G3T GO1NG, 1TS NOT S4F3 WH3R3 1 4M</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: GO S33 TO YOUR M4T3SPR1T3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1LL T4LK TO YOU L4T3R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, ok. take care of yourself terezi.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4LW4YS DO</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey terezi, i have something to tell you and you’re not going to believe it!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4LR34DY H34RD 4BOUT HOW J4N3 1S D4T1NG BOTH J4K3 *4ND* G4MZ33 4ND UNFORTUN4T3LY 1 DO B3L13V3 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 D3F1N1T3LY COULD H4V3 L1V3D W1THOUT S331NG TH3 V1SU4L 3V1D3NC3 HOW3V3R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait, how do you know about that?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 L13D 4BOUT YOU B31NG MOR3 4NNOY1NG TH4N K4RK4T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: K4RK4T 1S ST1LL TH3 MOST 4STON1SH1NGLY 4NNOY1NG P3RSON 1 KNOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so you talked to him?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND D4V3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST FOR 4 B1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH1S W4S 4N 1NCR3D1BLY HOT P13C3 OF GOSS1P 4ND 1 COULDNT TRUST YOU TO D3L1V3R 1T W1TH TH3 41R OF GR4V1T4S 1T D3S3RV3D</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s probably true.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the whole jake, jane, gamzee thing is freaking me out, actually.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... they’re technically my parents, and a version of jane was literally my nanna.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and now she’s... having sex with gamzee.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh, nevermind. i don’t even want to think about it.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4H4H4 1 HOP3 YOU H4V3NT S33N TH3 P1CTUR3 D4V3 TOOK</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave has a picture?!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait, never mind. i don’t want to know, and i definitely don’t want to see it.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: V3RY W3LL, YOUR LOSS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T C3RT41NLY 1S SOM3TH1NG TO B3HOLD THOUGH, 1 MUST S4Y</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whatever. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, what did you think, talking to dave and karkat?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: did they seem... happy?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOP3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, i KNOW, right?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the whole thing is such a mess, it’s hard to be in the same room with them these days.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t even know the full story because dave won’t talk to me about it anymore, and jade seems to think that everything’s going just fine.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: K4RK4T H4D SOM3 CHO1C3 WORDS TO S4Y 4BOUT J4D3S L4CKLUST3R BL4CKROM CONDUCT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... he doesn’t think the situation is great either?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: J4D3 1S D3F1NT3LY NOT 1N H4T3 W1TH H1M, 4ND 1T SHOWS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, jade doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of... hate inside her.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: in fact, it’s probably the opposite. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think she was alone for so long that it’s like she stored up this huge reservoir of love and she has no idea how to put a dam on it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think she means well, and in most ways she’s really smart, but...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: socially speaking, i think she might be...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: kind of an idiot?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS PUTT1NG 1T L1GHTLY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how does karkat feel?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3S NOT C4L1G1NOUS FOR H3R 31TH3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F 1 H4D TO G1V3 MY ASS3SM3NT OF WH4TS GROWN B3TW33N TH3M FROM MY BR13F OBS3RV4T1ON OF TH3 S1TU4T1ON, 1D D3SCR1B3 1T 4S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R3S3NTM3NT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh no.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R3S3NTM3NT C4N B3 F1NE 1N 4 SHORT T3RM BL4CK 4FF41R 1F TH3 GO4L 1S JUST TO F1LL P41LS 4ND 4VO1D CULL1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1N 4 SUST41N3D ROM4NT1C R1V4LRY 1T W1LL 4LW4YS SP3LL RU1N</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST L1K3 1N 4 C4L1G1NOUS R3L4T1ONSH1P, HOW 1TS 1MPORT4NT FOR YOU TO B3 4BL3 TO COMMUN1C4T3 W1TH YOUR K1SM3S1S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: really?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OF COURS3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4 TRU3 K1SM3S1S 1S JUST 4S MUCH YOUR L1F3 P4RTN3R 4S YOUR M4T3SPR1T 1S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh. i had no idea. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not to be culturally insensitive, but i thought it was just like, you’d meet up every once in a while to do, like...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: “hate makeouts.”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN YOU 4R3 B31NG 3XTR3M3LY CULTUR4LLY 1NS3NS1T1V3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU C4NT JUST S4Y “NOT TO B3...” SOM3TH1NG, 4ND TH3N GO 4H34D 4ND B3 3X4CTLY TH4T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T 1S 4UTOM4T1C4LLY PROBL3M4T1C</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m just asking questions!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: X3NOPHOB1C QU3ST1ONS, 1T WOULD S33M</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: man, not you too. </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TOO WH4T?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: pointing out stuff that’s “xenophobic” all the time. but in a way where you probably don’t even mean it?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: “DONT 3V3N M34N 1T”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY WOULDNT 1 M34N 1T?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1S CULTURAL S3NS1T1V1TY 4 JOK3 TO YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: er...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m just. all i’m getting at is... you’ve been talking to dave a lot, haven’t you?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 K33P MY CORR3SPOND3NC3 W1TH STR1D3R W3LL W1TH1N R34SON4BL3 P4R4M3T3RS, JUST L1K3 1 DO W1TH YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TO B3 HON3ST, MUCH L3SS TH4N YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHO 3V3N H4S TH3 T1M3 FOR TH3 NONS3NS3 OF COOLK1DS TH3S3 D4YS?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: time? you’ve got nothing but time apparently, flying around out there for god knows how much longer.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why don’t you just give it a rest already, and come back?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 C4NNOT R3ST WH1L3 TH3 M1SS1ON R3M41NS 1NCOMPL3T3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU KNOW TH1S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: seriously, it’s beautiful back here on earth c, terezi. so peaceful and harmonious! you should come check it out sometime.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1LL P4SS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4NYW4Y 4S 1 W4S S4Y1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST L1K3 W1TH HUM4N ROM4NT1C R3L4T1ONSHIPS, TH3R3 4R3 4LL K1NDS OF K1SM3S1SS1TUD3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow, you changed the subject back so fast, i think i got whiplash.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOM3 K1SM3S1S R3L4T1ONSH1PS 4R3 OF TH3 N4TUR3 YOU D3SCR1B3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT NOT 4LL OF TH3M</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 PO1NT OF 4 K1SM3S1S 1S NOT JUST TO M4K3 YOU 4NNOY3D OR 3V3N 4NGRY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3Y SHOULD PUSH YOU TO B3TT3R YOURS3LF</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3Y SHOULD SH1N3 4 L1GHT ON TH1NGS 4BOUT YOURS3LF YOU WOULD OTH3RW1S3 1GNOR3 OR D3NY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is that why... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY WH4T?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is that why you’re so determined to find her?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it is, isn’t it?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: VR1SK4 4ND 1 W3R3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UGH, 1 C4NT 3XPL41N 1T </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS JUST NOT 4S S1MPL3 4S YOUR3 M4K1NG 1T OUT TO B3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alright.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: B3S1D3S </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BETW33N US, TH1NGS W3R3 4LW4YS SO...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: weird?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DR4M4T1C!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 1 TH1NK 1V3 COSM1C4LLY H4D MY F1LL OF “DR4M4T1C” BL4CK R3L4T1ONSH1PS FOR 4 LONG T1M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F 1 W3R3 3V3R TO DO BL4CKROM 4G41N, 1T WOULD H4V3 TO B3 LOW K3Y</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU KNOW... G3NTL3 T34S1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: VAGU3LY 4NT4GONIST1C F33LINGS J4MS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOM3ON3 WHO 1 COULD BOTH TORM3NT 4ND H4V3 4N HON3ST CONV3RS4T1ON W1TH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when you put it that way, i guess maybe it doesn’t sound so bad.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4NK YOU FOR YOUR CULTUR4L S3NS1T1V1TY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 H4V3 H1GH HOP3S FOR YOU, 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ON3 D4Y, 1 HOP3 TO B3 4BL3 TO 1NTRODUC3 YOU TO FR13NDS 4ND S4Y, TH1S 1S JOHN. H3S NOT X3NOPHOB1C</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah? well...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: one day i hope to introduce YOU to people, and say, hi, this is terezi. she doesn’t suck shit!!!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:O</p>
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  "17": |-
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            17
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>hree months later, John is still thinking about his last conversation with Terezi. It’s kind of impossible not to, when Rose and Kanaya keep saying the name “Vriska” every five minutes. He really thought they were done with hearing about Vriska all the time, but apparently Rose and Kanaya were intent on breathing new life into that tradition.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Vriska, don’t chew on your chair’s dinner tray.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Darling She Is Only A Grub She Hasnt Yet Grown Her Aural Canals</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, but I believe strongly that we should get in the habit of speaking to her like an adult. It will be good for her social development.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Is That How Your Mother Raised You</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I would have loved it if my mother spoke more frankly with me. But she was...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Let’s just say, a rather awkward person.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Er. No offense, Roxy.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao none taken</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i cant even imagine all the ways id fuck up a kid in a timeline where i didnt sort out my drinking tbh</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, you weren’t awful.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I just have...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How do you always put it, dear?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: A Penchant For Melodrama</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well yeah</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ur dad made sure he got some of himself in u</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I suppose he did.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">And then everyone in the room observes a moment of silence for their dear, departed friend, Dirk Strider. Except for John, who takes advantage of the solemn distraction to anxiously tap at his phone. He’d sent Terezi a text an hour ago, when Roxy was fixing her makeup in her compact. He’s not sure why he feels the need to hide the fact that he’s talking to her. It’s not like there’s anything untoward about what he’s doing. Just texting an old friend. What’s wrong with that? Nothing at all, he thinks, as he closely monitors his silent, praying wife, ready to stash the phone in his pocket the moment she shows the slightest sign of movement.</p>
    <p>She lifts her head to speak. He’s like Houdini with that phone.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: damn i still cant believe dirks gone tho</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, it was so sudden. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But the best we can do to honor him is simply to move on with our lives.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m sure it’s what he would have wanted.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John shoots Rose a weird look. She smiles back benignly, then goes to collect her troll daughter from her booster seat. She holds baby Vriska close to her chest and leans over to give Kanaya a kiss on the cheek. The precious grub is framed between them, and the two wives are ringed in a halo of pale light at the peak of this magical moment. It should be a beautiful image, but something about it roils John’s gut. Rose sits back down, cradles Vriska in one arm, and begins to unbutton the top of her shirt with the other. John instinctively finds something else to look at. Anything. His fidgeting hands will do.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Have You Two Thought About What To Name Your Grubs</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its just one grub lol</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Thats A Relief</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Ive Actually Been Very Worried About Your Wellbeing Considering How Human Grubs Are Born</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: errrr </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: why</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Dont They Have To Eat Their Way Out Of The Womb</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Its What Karkat Told Me</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Karkat gets all his information on humanity from the movies. And Dave, which is even worse than the movies.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait a fucking minute. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what MOVIES are they watching??</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Nothing too graphically misleading, I suspect. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I equally suspect that any time there’s a human birthing moment on camera, Karkat probably turns away, too disgusted to watch, while Dave continues filling his ear with more lies about human biology.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: lol.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Then</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Was Given Inaccurate Information</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Whew</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: If that was true, how would our species have survived? We would have had a one hundred percent maternal mortality rate during childbirth.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes I Forgot How Primitive Medical Technology Was On Your Planet</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Then How Are Humans Born</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Use your head for a moment, darling.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh I See</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m sorry, John. All this girl talk must be making you uncomfortable.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: can we change the subject to something less gross and weird?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: pff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wuss</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is vriska really the name you’re going with?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya gives John an inquisitive, wide-eyed look. As if there could be no conceivable reason for someone to ask this question.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes Of Course</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Why would we change her name when she’s nearly a year old?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well it’s not like it would hurt or anything. didn’t kanaya just say she doesn’t have ears yet?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg john dont be rude</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not trying to be rude!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just think it’s a little... weird.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Dont See Why I Mean She Is Practically A Clone Of Vriska</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, yeah kanaya, i know. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s why it’s weird!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I appreciate your concern, John. But it’s not that weird to name a child after an important figure from your youth.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What were you thinking of naming your own child?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John hesitates, adjusts his glasses for want of something to do with his hands. This is a conversation he’s been dragging his heels on for months. Back when Roxy first got pregnant it was all they talked about it, but now that she’s so close to the due date, all the subject does is make his pulse go shaky.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: harry anderson egbert </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy! we hadn’t...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, i didn’t think we were decided on that.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i dunno you seemed p set on it</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He was. What’s bugging him about it is that Roxy didn’t seem to have any suggestions of her own. Rose stops breastfeeding Vriska, and hands her off to Kanaya. She comes to sit beside John, setting a hand on his knee. She speaks kindly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Wasn’t that the guy from Night Court?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: which was...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: A show that reminds you of your father.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I think that in this new world we’ve created, it’s important to carry the torch of what we’ve left behind us.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We must name the next generation for the fallen heroes that we admire.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait. we ADMIRE vriska now?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s true that Vriska was a controversial figure even at the best of times, but... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: She did defeat Lord English, John.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This remark seems to cure John of his shaky pulse problem, if only because for a moment his heart seems to stop beating altogether. It shocks him in a way that causes him to feel the planet turning under his feet. He whips his head up to look at Rose intently. She seems alert. Her gaze is precise. She doesn’t seem ill, or off, or confused at all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: no she... didn’t?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: vriska didn’t defeat lord english. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose doesn’t say anything. No one says anything. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose, no one knows what happened to lord english.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Of course we do. Vriska used the juju and her accompanying ghost army to defeat him.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Why else would we be here?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think that’s what actually happened though!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Then What Did Happen John</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... i JUST said! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no one knows!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose, come on... you’re the one who told me all this!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I told you what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: about a year ago. you were feeling bad, and asked me to come over.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and then you gave me this big speech about canon, and being like, OUTSIDE canon, and NOT canon, and other shit like timelines, and fate and...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and my anime dreams!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That’s all in the past, John.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Everything worked out in the end.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Why are you getting so upset about this?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you gave me a list of instructions and told me that i had to use my retcon powers to go back to a very specific point in time to defeat lord english when he was still just a kid.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and you told me that i HAD to do this to... to validate the sequence of reality?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i didn’t.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was all ready to go. i... i thought i was going to die, honestly. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but then YOU...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John swivels around to point a finger at his wife. It comes across as more accusatory than he means it to be.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy, you and calliope told me that i had a choice! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i MADE my choice, which is why i ended up staying.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but did it really all “work out in the end”?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if i didn’t stop lord english, then... then... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are we even really here at all???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The three gals in the room exchange a series of concerned glances. Do they truly think he’s crazy? Are they hiding something from him? John can feel himself trembling. It’s not possible that he’s remembering this wrong, is it? It can’t be. If he presses his eyes shut, he can still see the lines of the black hole cracking space apart around him. It seemed like such a big deal at the time, and then suddenly it felt like nothing at all. Why?</p>
    <p>Roxy leans over and sets a cool hand on John’s forehead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u doin ok there babe</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m fine!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You’re the ones not doing okay, he nearly shouts, but then realizes it’s just going to make him sound crazier than he already looks. He brushes Roxy’s hand away and stands abruptly, looking woozy and sweating at the temples. His skin is tight and clammy, too hot and too cold all at once.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just... need some fresh air.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: want me to come with u</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... i mean, no. i need a moment alone. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i’m just getting those um, you know...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: new dad jitters!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha, that must be it.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh of course that makes sense</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: take care of urself hon</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John grabs his coat and sprints out of the hive. He vaults into the air and follows the breeze up, coasting over the treeline and out of the troll suburb that Kanaya and Rose have made their home in. Furiously, he begins typing on his phone. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi. i know that you’ve got important stuff to do out there in paradox space, but i really need to hear from you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: on my side it’s been months since we’ve last talked, and i can’t figure out if it’s because i said something wrong, or... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if it’s because something terrible happened to you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: things here on earth are... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. The breeze that rattles over the forest seems foul, somehow. Stale, like air that’s been recycled multiple times over.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: they’re not great.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, on the surface everything is fantastic! everyone’s so happy and it finally seems like we’re all making real progress as adults.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but at the same time... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everyone is also acting crazy!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like i’m the only sane person left in this entire universe.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m the only one who seems to... care about anything?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, care about anything... BIGGER.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: bigger than like, what to name a baby, or who’s stuck in a terrible relationship with who.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, this probably sounds so pathetic.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, i’m seriously pathetic.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s so selfish of me to even be messaging you at all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve got a beautiful wife who loves me, but it’s not enough. i can’t even talk to her about what we’re going to name our stupid kid without it turning into some weird thing where she just goes along with whatever i want.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even when all i want is for her to want something different than what i want!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, wait, i take that back. our kid’s not stupid.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, ok, he hasn’t been born yet, so maybe he’ll turn out to be stupid eventually. what do i know?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway, the point is, i’m just popping off on random things at people who don’t deserve it, because i’m really upset right now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not at anyone in particular... probably just at myself.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, wow, can you believe how shitty i’m being right now?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you could be dead for all i know, yet here i am begging for your attention even though my life is perfect.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i don’t know who else i can talk to. even rose is acting weird all of sudden.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess what i’m trying to say is... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re the only thing that still makes sense to me, terezi.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: right now i... i just really need you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: please come make some sense at me...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John notices his fingers are shaking. He makes a conscious effort to keep them still, and exhales. Come make some sense at me? Good lord. He’s got to pull it together, before he blurts out something really embarrassing. He braces himself, as if splashing an imaginary glass of cold water in his own face, and reminds himself once again that he has a wonderful life. A perfect life. He’s HAPPY, god damn it.  </p>
    <p>He’s about to pocket his phone when he catches some movement at the bottom corner of the screen. It’s an indication that someone is typing.</p>
    <p>He stops breathing until the text actually appears.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OK4Y LOS3R, T3LL M3 WH4T H4PP3N3D TH1S T1M3</p>
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  "18": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            18
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ane may have stepped away from her pursuit of public office, but it’s important for any educated businesswoman to stay abreast of the political goings-on of her nation.</p>
    <p>She keeps close watch on the political landscape. She’s got people with eyes on every newspaper and website on Earth C, but she likes to watch the human news herself. It’s just such a delightfully adult thing to do, she thinks, as she spreads out languorously in front of her television. She remembers her father doing the same all the time. Well, without the luxurious silk robe and eighty-inch TV screen.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I admit I had second thoughts about calling off my presidential bid after what happened with Dirk, but... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know what, I’m surprised to say that this administration isn’t too shabby after all.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I was really worried that one of the candidates would naively roll back the troll population control ordinances once Kanaya got the Mother Grub up and running, but they’re taking a really hard line on this. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee, as ever, stands by Jane’s side, assisting her as she jots down notes about the political events of the day. When she asks for a fresh pen, he fishes one out of his codpiece and hands it to her, but he looks uncharacteristically disquieted.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GaMzEe: WhOa. ArE yOu ReAlLy AlL uP aNd SuPpOrTiNg ThAt StIcKy ShIzZ, mY wOmAn? </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me? That... what?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: iT lOoKs To Me LiKe ThE hUmAn MaN iS tRyInG tO kEeP mY pEoPlE dOwN, aLl DiScRiMiNaToRiLy AnD sUcH.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane chuckles at Gamzee’s jape. But the strange expression persists on his clownish face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThIs Be WiCkEd SeRiOuS bOo.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YaLl ReAlLy DoWn WiTh SuBjUgGlAtInG mY nInJaS?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane scoffs. The downside of taking notes by hand is that one’s wrist is bound to get a bit sore, and it’s left her short on patience for the tiresome ordeal of explaining the basic functioning of a political system to an ignorant farceur.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Gamzee, please.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m not down with doing anything of the sort.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Some of my best friends are trolls. I have no ill will towards trolls at all, and I want them to have the same opportunities and privileges as any human.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Or carapacian, or what have you.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But there are certain measures that are, realistically speaking, necessary in order to assure that these opportunities and privileges remain equivalent across the board.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: bUt BrEeDiNg CoNtRoL? i DoN’t KnOw MaN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: dOeSn’T sEeM kEePiNg In ThE sPiRiT oF tOlErAnCe AnD eQuAlItY aNd AlL tHaT, mAn.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Gamzee, you just don’t get it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s not about “equality.”</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s about equity.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YeAh I dOn’T fOlLoW, hOnK.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You see, in a system of equality, every individual is dealt exactly the same hand.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Maybe this is an analogy you would understand.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What if we lived in a world where there were only one size of shoe?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: That would be perfectly equal, if everyone had equal access to that shoe.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But would it suit everyone?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Could everyone put on that one size of shoe and receive an equivalent level of support and comfort? </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i DoN’t KnOw, As LoNg As It’S a BiG oLd ShOe It MiGhT bE aLl RiGhT mAnG.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane has to pause to huff in exasperation.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: No, Gamzee!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Everyone needs shoes that fit the size of their feet!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You need to make unequally sized shoes for unequally sized feet!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Oh WoRd? I aIn’T kNoW aBoUt AlL tHaT bOo BoO bUt If YoU sAy It’S tRuE.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Sigh. Yes, it’s true.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s the same with building laws that are conducive to a functioning, equitable society.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Some people are simply born into positions that confer upon them certain advantages, and it is the job of the government to ensure that people who are less fortunate can be “lifted up,” as it were, to match their luckier peers.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: We must offer greater assistance to some classes of people than others, to ensure that equity.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Such is the case with natural troll and human birth rates.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: sO yOu SaYiN yOu NeEd DiFfErEnT sHoEs FoR yOuR hUmAn DiCkS aNd WhAt NoT?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Precisely.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The reintroduction of the Mother Grub changes everything.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Trolls and humans don’t have identical birth rates. It’s a fundamental biological fact that natural troll reproduction is much faster than humans’.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s a matter of evolution and society!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know this, Gamzee. Your people evolved in a harsh, unforgiving world, where the slightest misstep could lead to death.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And like any animal would, your biology adapted to the circumstances.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Your Mother Grubs have the capacity to produce an unimaginable quantity of eggs at a time, to ensure that at least a few can survive to reproductive age.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And I understand that in the context of Alternian society, that worked great. Because the mortality rate was so high, only a manageable number of individuals were able to make it to adulthood.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But we have a peaceful society now, with benevolent caretakers and fair laws. No young troll is at danger of being killed by monstrous fauna. No one will be culled for being “too weak.”</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But that doesn’t change your biology.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: So what does that mean for the troll population? It would spiral out of control within a matter of generations!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You would come to outnumber humans at a factor of thousands, millions to one. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The infrastructure would not be able to keep pace. The economy would be completely destabilized. The market would be flooded with thousands of trolls who wouldn’t be able to find jobs or places to live.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Not to mention the issue of your life spans. Some of you will live for hundreds, thousands of years!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And, honestly... speaking of biology... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m not sure, if we were to loosen population controls right now, that your people have... how to say... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, let’s just say I think it would be irresponsible to gamble on whether or not the natural Alternian order will reassert itself in such a troll-dominated society.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Maybe in a hundred, two hundred years, when you’ve proven—and I believe you will, I really do—but when you’ve proven that you can coexist in a harmonious society with natural breeding, it might not matter so much exactly how many more trolls there are than humans.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WaIt. DiDn’T wE aLl Up AnD jUmP fOrWaRd So We GoT 2314 sWeEpS oF hIsToRy Or SoMeWhAt?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: With artificial breeding!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i dOn’t kNoW, bAbE. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThIs iS AlL StArTiNg tO SoUnD A LiTtLe... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: xEnOpHoBiC? :o(</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Xenophobic???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane narrows her eyes at the disingenuous buffoon. This is not the first time she has had a conversation like this with him by any stretch of the imagination. Not even someone as willfully loathsome as Makara could be this dense. What’s more likely is he’s attempting to get a rise from her. To get her a little hotter under the collar. To put her in a certain mood.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I just explained: it’s essential that these regulations remain in place so that the human and troll populations can remain proportionate.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It isn’t as if this is an issue comparable to racism within a single species, a phenomenon
    rooted solely in spurious cultural stereotypes, junk science and knee-jerk bigotry.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: There are objectively real and quantifiable biological and behavioral differences between
    our species, which absolutely must be accounted for if we are to live in a harmonious society
    together, where no species holds any advantage over another.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m trying to <em>prevent</em> xenophobia!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I MaY Be JuSt a sImPlE MoThErFuCkInG ClOwN NoT AlL KnOwLeDgE LeArNeD AbOuT ThE InTrIcAcIeS Of hUmAn eCoNoMiCs aNd InTeRsPeCiEs DiPlOmAcY, hOnK.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BuT AlL ThAt pOlItIcAl pOnTiFiCaTiNg yOu jUsT SlAmMeD DoWn iNtO My tHiNk pAn... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: CaN’t HeLp BuT tHiNk It FeElS a LiTtLe LiKe ThE bLeAtInGs Of A bItCh WhAt’S aBoUt To GeT aLl Up AnD cAnCeLeD.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Canceled??????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">And just like that, she falls right into his trap. There’s no turning back now. The salacious ritual is imminent.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me, I’m sorry. “Canceled”?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you even hearing yourself?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Who in the world gave a <em>literal insect</em> in <em>clownface</em> like <em>you</em> the authority to be “canceling” anybody?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wOw. HoNk.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, forgive me if I’m a bit nettled to hear a drug-addicted clown who murdered half of his friends tell me that I—JANE CROCKER—am... am... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: CANCELED?!?!?!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY. yOu kNoW ThAt’s iNsEnSiTiVe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aDdIcTiOn iS A DiSeAsE, aNd i cAn’t rIgHtLy hElP ThAt mY LuSuS WaS NeVeR ArOuNd tO TeAcH Me rIgHt fRoM WrOnG.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes, yes, we’ve all heard your sob story, Gam—</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BuT I DoNe gOnE AnD RePeNtEd, NoW, mY TaLl fRoStY MaMaCiTa.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I’M A RiGhTeOuS MaN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AnD AlL I EvEr bEeN TrYiN To dO Is gEt yOu rIgHt tOo, WiTh mOrAlS AnD GoOdNeSs, AlL fIlLeD uP iNsIdE yOu As TiGhT aS yOuR tAsTy HoE bAlLoOnS aRe WiTh HuMaN mOo JuIcE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: MaYbE WhAt wE NeEd iS A LiTtLe cOmMuNiOn, My wIcKeD SuCkLe SiStEr, FlEsH To mOtHeRfUcKiNg fLeSh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: bRiNg ThOsE hUmOnGoUs BaZoNgAs OvEr hErE.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Get your filthy hands off of me!!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: CoMe oN, mAmA.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: jUsT A LiTtLe hOnK To mAkE It aLl bEtTeR.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: No! I’d rather die than touch your disgusting clown baton ever again. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU sAy ThAt EvErY tImE mY bIg BuStY bAbE :o)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mAkEs A mOtHeRfUcKeR sTaRt To ThInK iT’s SoMe MoRe Of ThAt PoLiTiCaL dOuBlEsPeAk Of YoUrS, mY fInE dAiRy QuEeN.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: UGH!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">In spite of Jane’s protests, Gamzee makes a desperate play for a lusty squeeze. Jane puts up a valiant show of resistance, but Gamzee knows she has no real intent of fighting him off—it’s all part of the kismetic dance. He has his big clown mitts right on her busty bags, honking away. </p>
    <p>As soon as Jane starts screaming, the baby does too. Jake, sitting approximately six feet away, bounces the infant a little to calm him down.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I say would you mind keeping it down for tavros?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: He was sleeping and to be honest i think things here are getting a little blue for a baby.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane and Gamzee break apart at once. It’s like she’d forgotten that Jake was there at all—she scrambles to cover herself properly the moment his voice cuts through the din of sloppy, moist honking. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Darling.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Don’t worry. Th-there’s plenty of attention to go around, my love.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Would you care to join us?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Erm its ok i think its time for tavros to be fed anyway. Why dont i just take a bottle and get him out of here so you two can... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, yes, yes. Gamzee, get him a bottle, won’t you?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake, who had been sitting on the other side of the couch with sweet baby Tavros in his arms, remains stiff with his squalling infant as he waits for Gamzee to carry out his commanded task. The clown bends over revoltingly in front of the couch, full rump straining against his plush purple briefs, as if daring Jake to look away—and he can’t. Jake stares transfixed into the full moon of the clown’s buttocks, appearing virtually shrink-wrapped by the moist fabric, as Gamzee slowly descends, fingers trailing down the entire length of his leg. His codpiece bobs between his spread thighs as he grasps the bottle of milk that had been knocked to the ground in the fracas. Then he snaps right back up with a honk that nearly makes Jake rocket out of his seat. </p>
    <p>Jake’s heart is racing so hard he loses focus. He doesn’t notice that Gamzee is offering him the bottle until Jane’s angry voice wrenches him back to his senses.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Gamzee! That’s been on the ground! Get him a clean one.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee shrugs, and squirrels away the half-spilled bottle in his codpiece. He walks off and returns with a fresh bottle from the fridge, then hands it over to Jake. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Haha thanks ill just be going now. See ya. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake snatches the bottle from Gamzee’s hand and all but flees the room in as brisk a walk as he can manage. Baby Tavros calms down as soon as the rubber nipple is in his mouth. </p>
    <p>But no matter how far Jake walks down the long corridors of Jane’s mansion, the lascivious honks echo through the halls like the wails of a dolorous ghost. Nowhere is truly safe. Every little noise emanating from that cursed living room shoots through Jake’s skull like a gunshot.</p>
    <p>As Jake gently bounces the baby in one arm, he takes out his phone to text an old friend.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jade are you there?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yep!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: whats up?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Can we call?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sure jake!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade has started up a voice call before Jake can even move to do it himself. It’s such a relief to hear her voice. It’s something to focus on besides the—</p>
    <p>OHHHH! HONK!</p>
    <p>Jake winces. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: jake!!! its been a while since you called!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: is everything ok?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Yep hehe just hunky dory over here. You know how it is. Love my lady and baby and all that.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">HONK honk HONK honk.</p>
    <p>HOO HOO HOO, THIS LITTLE PIGGY WENT TO THE DARK CARNIVAL!!!</p>
    <p>honk HONK honk HONK.</p>
    <p>The sound of his wife’s rapturous howling unmoors the last of Jake’s composure. He staggers, threatening to spill soft little Tavros on his soft little head, killing him forever. It’s not safe to stand. So Jake shuts himself into the first empty room he comes across and lets himself slide to the ground against the closed door.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Anyway whats up with you? Hows life with davekat going?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh its great! im really glad i just went for it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: all of us together... it really is the best of every world</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: to be honest ive never really felt like i was cut out for monogamy you know?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: it seems silly to even contemplate keeping all my love for only one person now</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ive never really believed a person ever runs out</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Thats great to hear!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: speaking of... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: how are things going with you and jane and err... gamzee</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Haha well its not so much like that for me really.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gamzee is more janeys side piece you know.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: We dont...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im not really... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well enough about that have you been thinking of your plans for the future?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what do you mean??</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Like you know, starting a family and such.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: haha </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No really. You lot have been together a while now. You havent put any thought into the next step?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You and dave would have some real gangbuster babies im sure.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: haha im sure we would!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Not ready for it yet?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: thats not really it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: id love to have a baby like everybody else</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean everybodys been having them. i wont pretend im not a little jealous</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but... i dont think its gonna happen with me and dave</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What? Why not? </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: If you want i could give that whippersnapper a talking to.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Get him to really man up and accept responsibility.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: no! its nothing dave is doing! its me</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Huh?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: theres no way me and dave could have a regular baby together because im... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Whats wrong?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well lets just say that after all the sburb stuff its done some things to my body </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like merging with bec mostly </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Have you been trying?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: er... we cant really...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What do you think your dog genes or whatever are keeping you from getting pregnant?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: um</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: not my....... GENES exactly :\</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i dont really want to get into the specifics</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Would that rule out a union of an ectobiological sort?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i guess not</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but i dont think any of us are really interested in having a kid with ectobiology</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: it just feels...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i think weve had enough of ectobiology for one lifetime!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Heh heh fair enough.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ive thought about asking rose to help us but thats so much to ask... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What like as a surrogate? To have her carry the child for you in her womb?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah something like that</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Goodness. Have you mentioned this to her?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ummm</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yes weve talked a little about it</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What did she say?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: um haha</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i dunno its a tricky subject!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: she didnt say no</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: just that there was... stuff to think about</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I see.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But um... i might be missing something.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well dave is roses brother right?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So if he supplied the fatherhood material, wouldnt that be... ?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: lol</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What? What did i say?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: no jake, dave wouldnt be the father in this scenario!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh... oh!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Karkat then! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wait... no. Im confused again.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Arent there biological compatibility issues there? I mean with natural birth and not the ecto-whatsit machine.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat wouldnt be the dad either!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: lmao</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dont worry about it jake</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: look i gotta go ok? it was nice talking to you </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No please dont!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: huh?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dont go. Please.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: jake are you ok?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Yes im fine. Its just... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Sigh. Nevermind.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: if theres something wrong please tell me</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im here for you you know that right?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Theres nothing wrong! Sorry.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im just—</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I feel like weve been drifting apart lately is all. Because were all so busy with our new lives and such.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I just wanted to talk to you. Like the old times.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But i wont hold you up if youve got places to be.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: jake... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its ok jade! Ill be ok.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ok i really do have to go im sorry</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ill talk to you again soon ok jake? ill call you</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ok. Thank you jade. Im sorry.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: Ok....</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: bye</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade hangs up. Jake releases a rattling sigh.</p>
    <p>Honk, honk, honk, honk...  </p></div>
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            19
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: how cute do you guys think johns baby is going to be </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like on a scale of 1-11???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade rolls over and nuzzles herself into the crook of Dave’s armpit, taking Karkat’s hand with her so that it’s slung over her stomach. Dave doesn’t stop scrolling on his phone. His face is a kaleidoscope of neon, lit from beneath by the Alternian mushrooms that flare up at night with a sick, green bioluminescence, and from above by the soft glow of his social media accounts.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i still havent come to terms with the fact that johns gonna be a dad</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you dont think hell be a good one?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i didnt say that but ok since you asked</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean think about it if you were gonna rank us in order of maturity based on all the years weve known each other</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: about where would you put john</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat, lazily munching on a chocolate beetle, taps his foot against the picnic blanket. Jade moves his hand so that it’s resting subtly on the line of exposed skin above her skirt, where her tank top is riding up. He seems not to notice. Instead, he’s seriously considering Dave’s question. He picks a leg off one of his beetles and flicks it over Jade so that it lands on Dave’s forehead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BELOW ME BUT ABOVE YOU.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah exactly</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: now hes all married and pregnant and hes got a mustache</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M STILL NOT OVER THE FUCKING MUSTACHE.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: why not he looks so good!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah he looks disturbingly good</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i almost cant talk to him anymore it looks so good</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ohhhhh?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus jade dont fuckin read into it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a bro can appreciate how attractive his bro has become and maybe get a little breathless at the sight of his chiseled jawline and manly facial hair without being gay about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive just been thinking lately everytime i see him that hes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok dont make fun of me for saying this but its like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: johns a Man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not a lowercase m man but a fully grown up legit fuckin Dude with a leather briefcase and a suit that he only wears on special occasions </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: PRETTY FUCKED UP.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know right</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hmmmm...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade pokes a finger into Dave’s chin, sliding it up his jawline so that it puckers his mouth into a pout. It’s a pretty cute thing to do, if extremely immature. This might be the point Dave was trying to make, that they’re all still kind of immature. Jade doesn’t pick up on the obvious subtext in the conversation, however, because she’s been willfully undermining the subtext in her own personal life for nearly a year now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: well... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ive actually been thinking lately about how since rose and kanaya had a kid and jane and jake had a kid and john and roxy are gonna have a kid.......</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what would you think if maybe...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ....we had kids???</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHO? YOU AND DAVE?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat starts laughing. Jade flicks him in the forehead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: no stupid all three of us!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhhh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhhhhhhh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: look i know there are “issues” to sort out in terms of um....... feasibility</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but i think there are a lot of options to consider!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: maybe someone can help us out</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like.... someone we know?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: or i dont know! what about adoption!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: that could be cute! adopting a little grub!! aww... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: or a human! whatever! im not picky </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UHHHHHH IS FUCKING RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE, DON’T YOU READ THE NEWSPAPERS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE NEW ADMINISTRATION IS CRACKING DOWN ON CERTAIN KINDS OF INTERSPECIES ADOPTION LAWS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF YOU’RE SO INTENT ON IT BEING “THE THREE OF US,” WE LITERALLY WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ADOPT A HUMAN CHILD BECAUSE THE HUMAN ADMINISTRATION IS AFRAID THAT I’D...   </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T KNOW.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TEAR INTO IT, AND FEAST ON ITS ORGANS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND IN THAT KIND OF POLITICAL CLIMATE? WELL, I’M NOT SURE IT’S A WORLD I WOULD WANT TO RAISE A TROLL CHILD IN RIGHT NOW.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jokes on them ive never seen you tear into anything more complicated than a microwave dinner</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I KNOW, RIGHT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean on the other hand if we adopt a kid young enough it would totally fit in the microwave</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK, DAVE. I’M NOT GONNA EAT OUR THEORETICAL BABY.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave puts away his phone and rolls up so that he’s braced on his elbow. He meets Karkat’s gaze over the rise of Jade’s chest and smiles at him. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah dude i know </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre probably like closet dad of the fuckin year</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just waiting for his moment to shine</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i bet youd whine and complain about getting a kid til we actually brought junior home </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the moment you saw his chubby lil cheeks your face would light right up</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh... i can imagine the look on karkats face right now</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: heheh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah you know exactly the one</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like how he looks when his hot pocket finishes cooking in the microwave</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which he understands is an instrument of food preparation</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and not some sort of grim infant warming device</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BRING IT BACK TO THE MICROWAVE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cause i had more jokes to make about the subject</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OF COURSE. GOD FORBID JADE AND I ARE NOT FORCED TO LISTEN TO EVERY LETTER OF YOUR MORBID INTERNAL DIALOGUE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whatever you love it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: on the baby in the microwave front</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GOD</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: id be more worried about me being the one whod do the deed so to speak</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean its not like ive got a great demonstrative background in child rearing or anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: considering all the places i got left as a kid i wouldnt be surprised if id just put our baby in the toaster by accident or something</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like if you tally up the amount of hours i spent locked in the fridge compared to the amount of hours i spent in the american school system learning how to be normal and do polynomials</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just sayin it looks dire</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: .....</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s staring into the distance like a stopped clock, or at the very least like a dude who’s been locked in the fridge more than once in his life. Jade and Karkat exchange a private look they’ve also given each other more than once in Dave’s presence.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah so anyway im gonna stick to hot pockets i think</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you really think youd make that bad a father?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: even with me and karkat helping you?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: eh dont take this personally but im an evidence based hypothesis kinda guy and so far three way relationships in our friend group attempting parenthood...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the record aint so lookin so good</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just saying</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a clown a fascist and a male sex icon walk into a bar sounds like the start of a bad but funny joke</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but when its the start of a family thats when it gets a bit less funny to me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: poor little dude gonna be fucked up</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh come on dave</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: tavros is a cute kid!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SURE, HE IS *NOW*.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the moment cognitive function starts firing off in that kids head hes gonna be scarred for life</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: we dont KNOW that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade i know jakes like your bestie</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and also your grandfather</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and also kinda your grandson</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh also your fucking dad i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but his relationship is bad</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hey... thats...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: not NECESSARILY true...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE RIGHT, IT’S NOT FUCKING TRUE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE’S JUST BEING GENTLE HERE TO SPARE YOUR FEELINGS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HIS RELATIONSHIP IS NOT MERELY “BAD”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HIS RELATIONSHIP IS A FLAMING WRECK OF AN INTERSTELLAR WARSHIP HURTLING TOWARDS THE PLANET AT TERMINAL VELOCITY WITH THE ENTIRE CREW BRUTALLY SLAUGHTERED UPON REENTRY, SHOVED STRAIGHT DOWN THE CHAGRIN TUNNEL AND THEN IMMEDIATELY SHAT OUT THE OTHER SIDE, THUS FLOODING THE ENTIRE FUCKING NEIGHBORHOOD WHEN IT CLOGS UP THE LOAD GAPER.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade sits up and wraps her arms around her knees. Her ears go flat as she chews her lip.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: ...its not like i dont know that</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: john never shuts up about it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean, he and jane used to be close back when we all first met but last time i talked to john he....</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well, he accused her of “raping” jake</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its not like i dont worry about jake but come on! </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: were all adults</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what am i supposed to do? show up at his window dressed like the blue fairy and whisk him away from his terrible life??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: maybe that would work for a few days, but one thing i learned from dating around a lot in my youth is that no ones going to leave a bad relationship until its THEIR idea to leave</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She takes in a shaky breath and shuts her eyes. Her hair spills around her face when she leans forward to put her chin on her knees. Dave and Karkat exchange a look that is equal parts confused, miserable, and desperate. Karkat’s making a fist against the ground, digging up a handful of moss and getting dirt under his fingernails. Perhaps it’s a metaphor, he wryly speculates, for the way Jade has just dug up the emotional dirt in their relationship. Dave clears his throat quietly. One of them could say something right now if they found the nerve. But as the moments slide by, nerve remains in short supply.</p>
    <p>Karkat opens his mouth, without quite having settled on the words that will come out of it. But before any do, the sky cracks open. Instead, he lets out an undignified yelp and scuttles back so he doesn’t get hit by the sharp debris suddenly raining from above.</p>
    <p>Jade spins around and flings her arms out, using her Space powers to catch the offensive rubble and shrink it into harmless granules. They spark and clash against her fingers. She can’t quite tell what they are. They’re not rocks, or metal... they don’t even seem to be physical. </p>
    <p>Something else comes hurtling out of the hole in the sky, too fast for Jade to catch. It hits the ground with a clap of green lightning. The collision sends a geyser of dirt, rock, and vapor into the air. Dave flash-steps to shield Karkat. Jade doesn’t move, taking the brunt of the explosion face on, using her abilities to warp the energy around her so that she’s a mote at the center of the storm. When the dust clears, she’s the first to jump in the crater, trailing smoke behind her.</p>
    <p>There’s a body at the center of it. The torso is bloody, tangled, and curled into a fetal position. Its shoes are missing, but otherwise the outfit is quite familiar to her: it’s a dead ringer for her old Witch of Space uniform. Jade touches the body with the toe of her shoe, and then gasps when it rolls over to reveal its face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: its... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ME???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat and Dave stick their heads over the edge of the pit.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: holy shit</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT IN THE EVER LIVING FUCK?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: good question</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk but we should probably get her some help</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HELP? FOR WHAT?? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT LOOKS LIKE HER INTERNAL ORGANS ARE OBLITERATED. SHE’S COVERED IN MORE BLOOD THAN I THOUGHT HUMANS EVEN HAD INSIDE THEM.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well we cant just leave her in this fuckin hole man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: come on gimme a hand</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat watches as Jade stands over her own younger corpse. He notices the way her shoulders are slanted. It’s clear even from a distance that she’s shaking.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON HERE??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT SHOULD WE DO ABOUT THIS</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade doesn’t say anything. She’s staring at the body. A badly broken version of herself, probably from a different timeline, she guesses. This Jade looks about sixteen years old. Her hair is matted with blood. Her appearance is gruesome, yet also... peaceful, somehow. </p>
    <p>Dave slides down the ridge of the crater and grabs her by the shoulder.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey jade you hear us</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade wipes a hand across her cheek and looks down to find that it’s come away bloody. One of those shrunken, massless shards from the sky must have nicked her in the face. Her eyes go wide and she feels the breath go out of her for a moment. She looks directly upward. Where did this body come from?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yes dave i heard you</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Still staring at the body, Jade digs her phone out of her pocket.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i need to talk to jane</p>
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  "2": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            2
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ohn zaps back to the quietest point in the fridge’s impressively storied timeline that he can pinpoint, which is on The Land of Tombs and Krypton, T-minus about half an hour before his final battle against every dude they all had to fight to get the hell out of Dodge. As the name of the land would imply, the planet’s surface is covered in tombs, each an ancient skyscraper piercing the brilliant, gaseous thunderclouds above. But there’s only one tomb he’s come for. A simple, household refrigerator, just like the one he grew up with. </p>
    <p>He pops into canon at one end of a rooftop, up so high that the chemical storm coursing through the atmosphere sets his hair on edge. At the other end of the roof are Dirk and Dave, doing something he never thought he’d see: they’re... <em>hugging</em>. Not just regular, noncommittal hugging. They are emphatically hugging the <em>shit</em> out of each other. Dave’s face is buried in Dirk’s side, and Dirk’s got both arms around him in a way that looks like he’s never actually hugged another human being before.</p>
    <p>Sensing that this is probably something he shouldn’t be seeing, he tiptoes towards Gamzee’s would-be sarcophagus as carefully and quietly as he can, and places his hands just above the thick aluminum hull. The moment John’s palms hit the fridge, Dirk turns to look at him. His head only moves an inch. Slowly, he lowers one eyebrow and returns to his poignant and deeply personal business with Dave, as if he hasn’t observed anything worth acknowledging at all. </p>
    <p>Which, John supposes, is for the best? He isn’t trying to mess up the timeline any more than he needs to. He’s only here to steal a refrigerator that has recently been used to entomb a clown. He has enough on his plate with this idiotic heist as it is. </p>
    <p>Anyway, he decides to mind his own damn business and get this fridge back to Earth C. He zaps himself and the fridge back to the same picnic grounds he departed from, while cleverly leaving the chains wrapping the fridge behind on LOTAK. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so uh...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m back.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everyone get ready for THIS fucking guy, i guess... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">With the same delicacy that he’d use to touch a toilet bowl in a public bathroom, he grabs the handle of the fridge and pulls.</p>
    <p>Gamzee pops out immediately, sweating, gasping for breath, and smelling like socks that have been worn continuously for two weeks straight. John rears back and pinches his nose shut. Calliope shoots John a sharp look, like a stern teacher would.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HOOOOOOOOOOOONK.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: cough COUGH cough CHOKE honk CHOKE!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wheeeeeeeeeze HONK cough HONK choke WHEEEEEZE.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: ah, poor thing.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: it’s alright now. yoU’re alright.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: take a moment to catch yoUr breath, mr. clown. yoU’ll be jUst fine. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: cough HACK cough HONK hack CHOKE wheeze HONK honk HONK.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: honk HONK honk GASP wheeze GASP... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wheeeeEeeeeEeeeEeeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeZe!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOoOoOoOoOoOnK cHoKe ChOkE hAcK hOnK cOuGh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: CoUgH cOuGh HoNk HoNk SoB sOb SoB sOb... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: SoB sOb BoO hOo HoO hOo HoOoOoOoOoNk... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BoO hOo HoNk HoO hOnK hOnK wAaAaAaAaAaAh!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh dear.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: what is it, sir?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: tell Us what pains yoU. let it all oUt, friend.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: we are here for yoU. u_u</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i BeEn A bItCh AsS nAuGhTy MoThErFuCkEr. :o(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope nods knowingly, and pats him on the back. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i Up AnD dOnE sOmE mOtHeRfUcKeRs RaW.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThOsE mOtHeRfUcKeRs MoSt Of AlL wHo I cAlLeD aS mY fRiEnDs.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i PuT tHe StRaIgHt Up FuCkIn HaRsHnEsS aT tHeM aNd It WaSnT mOtHeR fUcKiN nIcE oF mE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: nOt OnE BiT. :o(</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd NoW i’M aLl At An EmOtIoNaL pLaCe FrOm SwEaTiNg My HaRd TiMe In ThE hUnGeR tRuNk.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: A fAtE tO wHiCh I sUrEly GoT mY dEsErVe On FoR.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd It GaVe Me AlL tImE tO rEtHiNk My LoT aNd GeT cOnSiDeRiNg To WhAt A rIpE pIlE oF tHe NaStIeSt GaRbAgE i BeEn My WhOlE mOtHeRfUcKiN lIfE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd I gOt My EpIpHaNy GoInG iN tHeRe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: lIkE aLl MoThErFuCkIn BaThEd In ThE rIgHtEoUs EpIpHaNiEs Yo.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: PrEtTy MuCh BaLlS oUt *ImMeRsEd* In ThE eMoTiOn BrEaKtHrOuGhS mY gOoD nInJaS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd I cAmE tO gEtTiN sOmE oF mY rEaLiZaTiOnS dOwN rIgHt FuCkInG lOcKeD.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: lOcKeD tIgHtEr ThAn I wAs LiKe A bItCh In ThAt FrIdGe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AnD tHoSe ReAlIzAtIoNs BeInG sOmEtHiN aLl MoThEr FuCkIn ThUsLy Of SoRtS:</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’M a BaD, bAd MaN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aNd I’m HeRe To FuCkIn *ReDeEm* My MoThErFuCkIn SeLf.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HoOoOoOoOoNk.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope, eyes closed, continues with her sympathetic gestures. She pats him on the back, nods very slowly, issues an “mm-hm” now and then. Only while he is distracted by his own sobs does she steal a glance at her phone, tipping the fact that she too wouldn’t mind if this redemptive soliloquy could hurry itself along. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThEsE rEdEmPtiVe FuCkIn EuReKa ThUnDeRcLaPs AlL bAnGiNg At My ThInK pAn... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: GeTtInG mE tO gO aLl LiKe, BoO hOo, I’m BaD, i’M bAd!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhAt I’m SaYiNg AbOuT iS tHe RaW sHiT i DiD gOt SoMe ExPlAnAtIoNs To MaKe YoU sEe ThE tRuTh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ThE tRuTh ThAt My GnArLiNeSs HaD a MoThErFuCkIn TeNtFuL oF *rOoT cAuSeS* yA gOtTa InDuLgE mE aT.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: lIsTeN uP bOyS aNd HoEs, CaUsE hErE cOmEs A bUnCh Of NoIsE tHaT’s MoRaLlY fUcKiN mItIgAtInG aS sHiT.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOoOoOoNk.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: (oh jesus.)</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: (shh!)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I bEeN aLl LiKe. AbUsEd AnD sTuFf, HoMiEs.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: As A cHiLd, I gOt MoThErFuCkIn NeGlEcTeD oN bY a StErN oLd FaThErLy GoAt.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I wAs A dIsApPoInTmEnT oN hIm, AnD cAn’T sAyS i BlAmE hIm FoR aBaNdOnInG tHe ShIt OuT oF hIs UsElEsS kId. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I wOuLdA mOtHeRfUcKiN dOnE tHe SaMe ShIt At Me If I wAs A bIg CrUeL gOaT.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: sO ThAt ExPlAiNs LiKe, PrEtTy SuRe MoSt Of My CrImEs In A wAy ThAt MaKeS a MoThErFuCkEr WaNnA tAkE hIs FoRgIvEnEsS oUt FoR a FuCkInG sPiN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHeRe’S oThEr ReAsOnS tO cOnSiDeR, LiKe... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ShIt ThAt MaKeS tHiS rEdEmPtIoN aRc FuCkIn TiGhT lIkE aN uNcRaCkEd ElIxIr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: LiKe, HoWs My PuRpLe BlOoD mEaNt I gOt ThE cUlTuRe PrEsSuReS pUt On Me To Be A SaLtY dAmN jEsTeR fOr LiFe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhAt aBoUt ThAt HaNd ThE mEsSiAhS dEaLt Me, My BiTcHeS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: a MoThErFuCkEr’S gOnNa EnVy ThAt LiKe A wIcKeD cOd RaSh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: So HoW cAn I fUlL aNd TrUlY fUcKiN gEt BlAmEd On FoR, wHeN iT cOmEs To A lITtLe BiT oF sUbJuGgLaTiOn I gOt CuLtUrAlLy HoRnSwOgGlEd Up To DoInG, aNd AlSo TrAgIcAlLy GoAt AbUsEd WhIcH nEeDs To MaKe YoU sHeD a TeAr FoR tHiS mOtHeRfUcKeR, lEsT yOu WaNnA bE aS aTrOcIoUs As Me.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AnD sUcH iS wHy I’m GrAbBiNg HoLd Of My RePeNtAnCe As FiRm AnD sErIoUs As I wOuLd A wHoRe’S tItTy!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: My ReDeMpTiOn ArC iS tRuLy ThE dAnKnEsS. i MeAn It HaRd, AnD i’M gOiNg SiNcErE aT iT lIkE oNe SaD aNd SoRrY bAdBoY mOtHeRfUcKeR.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: fRoM tHiS dAy FrOnTwArD, i PlAn To GeT mY pLeDgE oN tO bE a ChAnGeD cLoWn. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: TrUlY a NeW aSs MoThErFuCkEr, ThAnKs To My NeW fRiEnDs. :o)</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: bravo!!! ^u^</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: fuck yea</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">While John’s two friends are busy hugging it out with arguably the worst person he has ever met in his life, he tiptoes a few yards away from the group and slips his phone out of his pocket. There’s only one person in the universe who can truly understand what John’s going through right now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey terezi, you around?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU W4NT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you wouldn’t believe what’s happening just behind me right now.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 PROB4BLY WOULD</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no you won’t.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: check it out... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John discreetly holds his phone over his shoulder and takes a snapchat of Gamzee sobbing in Calliope’s arms. Roxy is beside them, nodding along solemnly. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOLY SH1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know, right?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3S CRY1NG L1K3 4 L1TTL3 WR1GGL3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: GO OV3R 4ND G1V3 H1M 4 K1CK 1N TH3 CODP13C3 FOR M3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can’t.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN, 1M 4SK1NG YOU TO DO 4 S1MPL3 F4VOR FOR 4N OLD 4ND D34R FR13ND</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DO NOT B3 D1FF1CULT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, i don’t think that would go over well.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everybody’s taking this all weirdly seriously.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: apparently we’re going to let him have a “redemption arc”?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, it’s...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, what is there to even say?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s literally the dumbest fucking idea i’ve ever heard, but what can you do.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SHOV3 H1M B4CK 1N TH4T FR1DG3 4ND THROW 1T 1N TH3 OC34N, 1S WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: pretty much.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY 4R3 YOU 1D1OTS 3V3N BOTH3R1NG W1TH TH1S FOOL 4G41N</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: don’t ask me. this is a calliope thing.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH GOD</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess she roped roxy into it... so now i’m just going along with it too.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t even care actually. i mean, he smells awful, but... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;XO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: guess that’s just what’s happening now. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the asshole clown is back. life goes on.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T D1DNT N33D TO THOUGH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT FOR H1M, 4T L34ST</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: speaking of life...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how’s it going out there.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: F1N3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PR3TTY BOR1NG, FLY1NG 4ROUND 4ND STUFF</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU KNOW HOW 1T 1S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 S34RCH CONT1NU3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: any sign of her yet?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’ve been gone, like...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: a really long time, you know.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SUR3 YOU S33 1T TH4T W4Y</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: FROM MY PO1NT OF V13W, 1TS 4 L1TTL3 D1FF3R3NT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4NYW4Y, NO TURN1NG B4CK NOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everybody misses you though.     </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: probably even... *shudder*  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: gamzee.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UGH!!!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL, TH4T S3TTL3S 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 MUST N3V3R R3TURN. SORRY 3GB3RT &gt;:[</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha, i never should have told you about his shitty redemption arc.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i blew it!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YUP &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4NYW4Y, GOTT4 GO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: N3XT T1M3 W3 SP34K, YOU OW3 M3 4 R3PORT OF 3X4CTLY ON3 PUNCH 1N TH3 CLOWN D1CK</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BY3 DORK</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Smiling, he pockets his phone and heads back to the Gamzee pity party. Gamzee’s sobbing so performatively that many carapacian civilians have stopped to watch. By the looks on their faces, not a single one of them has ever been exposed to such clown grief. Pulled away from Calliope’s embrace, he’s now addressing the gathering crowd about the importance of genuine repentance.</p>
    <p>Calliope comes to stand with John, her hands folded behind her back and her expression peaceful.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: thank yoU for this, john.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re welcome?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Something feels different, but he can’t put his finger on it.</p></div>
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            20
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW, SURE FEELS WEIRD TO JUST BE HANGING OUT WITH ALL THESE ASSHOLES WE WERE TOTALLY GOSSIPING ABOUT JUST TWENTY MINUTES AGO. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat is loudly whispering to Dave, leaning a bit too intimately into the curve of his chest for two dudes who are dating the same girl, but not each other.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i always knew our gossip sins would catch up with us eventually</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: SHH both of you!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade brushes past them holding her dead teen-self under the armpits, while Jake brings up the rear, stripe-tighted ankles in hand. He shoots Dave and Karkat a big, toothy grin. Dave nods back. Karkat continues to look somewhat seasick, keeping his eyes high so that they don’t accidentally graze teen-Jade’s impaled chest. </p>
    <p>Jake and Jade take the corpse up the winding, white staircase toward Jane’s bedchamber. The Crocker mansion is a dazzling maze of marble halls polished to a mirror sheen. It’s the kind of place where footsteps echo from one end of a floor to the other, and even the pillows are lined with literal silver thread. There’s a peaked skylight at the top of the foyer that splits the morning sun like a prism, spilling multicolored dots across every surface below. Amongst those dots are drips of teen-Jade’s blood. It’s so dark on the spotless tile that it looks nearly black.</p>
    <p>Dave stays with Karkat by the door. They’re waiting to meet Rose, Kanaya, John, and an extremely pregnant Roxy, who all show up together with baby Vriska, who’s really been coming along in her metamorphosis cycle lately. She now has both aural cavities and opposable thumbs, and she’s making good use of the latter by reaching out to mash her hands against the face of any adult foolish enough to enter her range. She grabs one of Karkat’s little nubby horns when Kanaya passes by. He reacts pretty much the same way he would if it were actual-Vriska tugging on any part of his person. He flails and grouses, making a few strangled sounds of impotent rage. It gives everyone a good giggle on a dark and confusing day.</p>
    <p>John hangs back with Karkat and Dave while the girls go upstairs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, hey. how are you guys doing?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh you know just enjoying a nice night out with our girlfriend when another teen version of our girlfriend plummeted out of the sky and bled all over our picnic pizza</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: picnic pizza?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah its like normal pizza except that you eat it while sitting on a tablecloth in the fucking grass</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh cool. i’d never thought about doing that. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just bring sandwiches to my picnics like a dumbass.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then again, the last time i went to a picnic, i ate...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, never mind what i ate. but it sure wasn’t pizza.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: your loss bro its the only way to picnic out</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: STOP TALKING ABOUT PICNIC PIZZA YOU ASSHOLES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS IS IN SUCH POOR TASTE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah hes right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway like i was saying we were in picnic pizza heaven when fucking space tier jade from like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess seven or eight years ago? </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: basically face planted in a field next to our romantic tripledate</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: damn.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH, IT WAS PRETTY BAD TIMING.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or extremely good timing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont know yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the conversation was veering kinda </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE WERE IN THE “RELATIONSHIP REALTALK” ZONE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ANYWAY, CAN WE STOP DWELLING ON THIS SHIT AND JUST GO UPSTAIRS?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">As they ascend the staircase, they’re greeted by the horrible, bone-rattling sound of a toddler screaming its head off. In the room, little Vriska Lalonde is pulling on little Tavros Crocker’s thick black hair, while Jake Crocker laughs and scratches his head awkwardly. Jane looks quite irritated. Gamzee Makara-Crocker is at her side, serving as her ever-faithful shadow, holding her arm to steady her as she tries to revive teen-Jade’s corpse.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vitriol leaks from every letter of his name. John and Dave exchange a knowing look: who’s supposed to be the kismesis here, again?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Would you take Tavros out of here? Please?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well golly jane i just thought it would be invigorating for the boy to interact with someone else his age for once.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, he doesn’t need to do it in here. Especially not when I’m trying to work!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY nOw ElIxIrTiTs, YoU oUgHt To ChIlL.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YeLlInG aT yOuR mOtHeRfUcKiNg MaTeSpRiT iS...  </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: bAd FoR tHe BlOoD pReSsUrE, bAbE.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, I’m sorry. Is a clown speaking right now?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s the darndest thing. I could have sworn I just heard a nearby, offensively odiferous clown offering some advice when no one asked for his opinion.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: woah janey u doin ok</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane wipes perspiration off her face and sighs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I... I don’t know.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately, trying to run my business, raise a child, and manage the political situation indirectly through various corporate machinations...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Why are the children still in here?!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Take them to the playroom. Now!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Aye aye maam!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake scoops up the squabbling children and holds them as far apart as possible to stop Vriska from biting Tavros’s ear off. It’s just one of the unfair advantages she has over him and his blunt, human teeth. John and Dave part to let Jake go by. Quite sorry blokes, he whispers as he takes his leave.</p>
    <p>Jane clutches her hands around teen-Jade’s thin shoulders, looking the corpse over with an expression of absolute sorrow. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I don’t know why, but I’m having an extremely difficult time reviving her.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Where did she even come from?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The living Jade shakes her head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: we have no idea</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its like the sky just opened up!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Obviously She Is From Another Timeline</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Darling Can You Perhaps Shed Some Light On This</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose sucks on her lower lip. It takes her a moment to respond. Her fingers close around the neckline of her dress as her gaze sweeps across the room. She looks over each person present, but avoids making eye contact.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I haven’t the faintest clue.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It could be anything.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John quirks an eyebrow at her. She doesn’t sound confident. Not like she did a month earlier when she claimed that Vriska had defeated Lord English.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, something is blocking my Life powers.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s as if she has... a sort of poison in her. Not a literal poison, mind you. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: If it were as simple a matter as there being something in her bloodstream, I could revive her lickety-split. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s deeper than that.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s like... a poison eating away at the very core of her being. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s attacking her on... perhaps this sounds crazy, but...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: A metaphysical level??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: huh?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What’s so odd is that not only can I not bring her back to life, she also, somehow, doesn’t feel entirely dead.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i wonder if that has something to do with me? </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like, being here???</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: How so?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well... all of our selves across infinite timelines are actually just one self right?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like... one ultimate self distributed across multiple bodies </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: so in multiple places and states at once</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: every jade that exists is like a light being shined through a thousand cracks in the timeline</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but if were outside the place where that light is being split from... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: maybe only one of us can exist</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and thats why shes stuck in this horrible state :(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy places her hand on Jade’s head and gives her a little scritch between the ears.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i thiiiink that janey was just bein melodramatic jade</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not ur fault</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade reaches out to take her own corpse’s hand. She remembers being this age, being heartbroken, still newly godlike in her abilities, and on the verge of fighting a battle that could change everything. She can’t believe how young she looks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: what should we do with her?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy claps her hands together.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hate to be the one who says what were all thinkin but...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sounds like its time for another funeral lmao</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: lmao??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy, jade is dead, and you’re probably going to give birth within the week!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah so we gotta start planning this one right now</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cmon guys</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: how longs it been since we were all together like this?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy looks around the room searchingly with a big, bright grin. Karkat snorts from the far corner of the room where he’s been pouting the whole time.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M SORRY, WAS THAT A RHETORICAL FUCKING QUESTION OR WERE YOU GOING SOMEWHERE WITH IT?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: it was not rhetorical at all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the last time we were all together was</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dirks funeral!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Roxy, at the time, we were mourning the death of a dear friend... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: nothin like the death of someone we love to bring us all together again</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: weve all been so busy with being pregnant and birthin a thousand trolls and the political situation that regulates the troll birthin...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we dont even have time to catch up anymore :(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s eyes flutter wide beneath her spectacles. Unbidden, her gaze flickers to where Rose and Kanaya are standing shoulder to shoulder, very much in stable, devoted, interspecies Love. Kanaya catches that gaze, and holds it, for a very long, tense moment.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Um. Roxy... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya interrupts, tone clipped and dry.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Perhaps We Should Not Talk About That Particular Subject</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If Your Concern Here Is That We All Continue To Be In The Same Room Its Probably Best We Avoid Bringing Attention To The Reasons That It So Rarely Happens</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: aw cmon politics should never get between friends</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UH, EASY FOR YOU TO FUCKING SAY.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade interjects, tiredly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat... lets not ok?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean, not now?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT WHAT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT THE GIANT FUCKING TRUMPET BEAST IN THE ROOM?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT HOW KANAYA, TEREZI AND I WORKED JUST AS HARD TO CREATE THIS WORLD AS ANY OF YOU, BUT OUR PEOPLE DON’T EVEN GET A SAY IN HOW THEY GOVERN THEMSELVES?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT HOW THE CRIMES OF ALTERNIA ARE HELD UP TO UNFAIR SCRUTINY ANY TIME A TROLL WANTS TO FUCKING DO OR SAY SOMETHING ON THE NEWS, BUT WE’RE NOT ALLOWED TO GENERALIZE HUMANS BASED ON THE WORST THINGS THAT HAPPENED IN YOUR HISTORY?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT HOW ALTERNIA WAS BASICALLY THE SACRIFICIAL FUCKING MILKBEAST UPON THE ALTAR THAT THIS UNIVERSE WAS BUILT ON, BUT YOU ALL ACT LIKE WE’RE SO LUCKY YOU DEIGNED TO ALLOW US TO EXIST ALONGSIDE YOU INSTEAD OF JUST LETTING US FUCKING DIE OUT THE WAY IT WAS INTENDED?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um excuse you karkat but no one acts like that</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH? NO ONE???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat pushes off from the wall, furious, practically spitting flames. He points at Jane, his whole arm quivering.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I LISTEN TO THE FUCKING NEWS, YOU KNOW. I’VE HEARD ALL THE ARGUMENTS, THE ONES BASED ON THE POLICY ADVICE YOUR CORPORATE THINK TANK FEEDS THE PRESIDENT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DO YOU THINK THAT IT’S BEING BROADCAST AT A FREQUENCY ONLY HUMANS CAN HEAR OR SOMETHING? DO YOU THINK WE’RE THAT STUPID?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: EVEN I CAN TELL THAT THE ATMOSPHERE IN THE TROLL KINGDOM IS CHANGING, AND I HAVE NEVER ONCE WILLINGLY HAD A CONVERSATION WITH MY NEIGHBORS. EVERYONE’S STARTING TO GET SCARED. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE STARTING TO GET PISSED.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane folds her hands in her lap. Her voice is ice-cold, and varnished to a shine.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Is this meant to be a threat of future violence, Mr. Vantas?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m not sure menacing me is making the most compelling case for your political claims.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOLY SHIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU ALL FUCKING HEARING THIS?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes, Karkat, we are all most definitely hearing this. It’s somewhat unavoidable with you shouting it all at the top of your lungs.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SORRY, I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE KIND OF DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO HEAR ME, WHAT WITH YOUR HEAD SHOVED ALL THE WAY UP YOUR *BIG*, **FAT**, ***ASS***!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: woah damn</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee steps out from behind Jane, putting himself between her and Karkat. He raises his hands in a calming gesture</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hEy BrOtHeR cHiLl OuT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK OFF GAMZEE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wOaH wOaH, kArKaT mY DUDE wHy ArE yOu AlL lAsHiNg OuT aNd ShIt? </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i ThOuGhT wE wErE mOtHeRfUcKiNg GoOd.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO, WE ARE NOT “MOTHERFUCKING GOOD.”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE WILL NEVER BE “MOTHERFUCKING GOOD.”</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yO c’MoN mAn I mOtHeRfUcKiNg ApOlOgIzEd AbOuT gOiNg AlL oVeRbOaRd WiTh ThE mAlIcE aNd MuRdEr AnD sHiT. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: a MoThErFuCkEr ReDeEmEd HiS mOtHeRfUcKiN sElF!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Y’aLl CaN’t GeT sAlTy WiTh YoUr HoMiE nO mOrE. tHaT bE aLl ThE rUlE oF rEdEmPtIoN, mY bRoThErLy BiTcH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY THE “RULES” ARE, DUDE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T CARE IF YOU PROSTRATE YOURSELF AT MY FEET AND LICK THE FUCKING DIRT OUT FROM UNDER MY TOENAILS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T FUCKING TRY TO DO THAT BY THE WAY. I’M OBVIOUSLY BEING FACETIOUS. IF YOU ACTUALLY TRIED TO TOUCH MY FEET WITH YOUR DISGUSTING, ROTTEN SMELLING TONGUE I WOULD PROBABLY BE FORCED TO REACH DOWN MY THROAT AND PULL OUT MY OWN PUMP BISCUIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WAS ALSO ME BEING FACETIOUS. MY POINT IS, DON’T TOUCH ME, DON’T SMILE AT ME, DON’T WINK AT ME, DON’T HONK AT ME, DON’T DO *ANYTHING* IN MY DIRECTION, GOT THAT?!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE ARE *****NOTHING***** TO EACH OTHER, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME, “““““BROTHER”””””?????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee gets up from where he had been crawling across the floor in preparation for some righteous attritional toe sucking. He looks positively crestfallen. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: kArKaT... yO tHeRe’S gOtTa Be SoMeThInG i CaN dO.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NEVER IN THE WILDEST DREAMS OF YOUR SOPOR SOAKED PEABRAIN WILL WE BE “MOTHERFUCKING GOOD,” GAMZEE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH THE GODDAMN ENEMY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE I STILL HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT WHAT YOU DID.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK YOU EVEN DID WRONG IN THE FIRST PLACE!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: woah ok karkat i get ur all fired up about politics and stuff but lay off gamz ok</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes, can’t you see that he’s sincerely trying to have a redemption arc?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i get if u dont wanna forgive him that totes your business</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but you gotta at least admit that hes makin an effort here</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOnK.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S!!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat points at Jane again, then at Roxy, and then at Gamzee.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK YOU, AND YOU, AND ESPECIALLY YOU.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IN FACT, FUCK ALL OF YOU. I’M LEAVING!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat whirls around to leave, but Dave tries to stop him, hands on his shoulders. Karkat wrestles out from his under his gentle grip, hissing. He jabs Dave hard in the clavicle, hard enough that Dave is forced to take a shocked half-step backwards.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT PART OF “ALL OF YOU” DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, STRIDER?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU AS DEAF AS YOU ARE STUPID?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave folds out of the way, stunned and compliant. Jade gapes at her stunned boyfriend, and the empty space in the doorway left by her other boyfriend.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave what the FUCK did you say to him downstairs?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nothing?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: tbh i think hes been holding all that in for a while</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat leaves a stunned silence in his wake. Jane fuming silently to herself, Kanaya and Rose exchanging a knowing look about World Politics, John chewing his lip and mulling about how Karkat is probably right, and how if he were braver, he would have backed him up.</p>
    <p>This unpleasant spell of poorly attuned togetherness is interrupted by Jake looking all toothsome and fatherly with Tavros asleep in his arms, and a placated Vriska riding his broad shoulders.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By jove chaps what was all that commotion?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It was nothing, Jake. Go back to the playroom.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no wait</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jake were havin another funeral</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we dont got much time so im appointing you officially third in charge of the planning committee </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: after me and callie obvs</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, roxy, are you really serious about this funeral idea?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah why wouldnt i be?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: christ.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m all for like, honoring the memory of this departed version of teen jade we barely know, but...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re SO pregnant!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea im pregnant as shit but i dont see anybody else steppin up to the plate </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Roxy, I understand the sentiment, but are you really sure it’s...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Appropriate?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yup</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its even more appropriate now</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: after all the bullshit thats happened we need a good bash for the sake of team unity</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Admit To Still Being Ignorant Regarding Many Aspects Of Human Culture </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But A Funeral Is Not What I Would Call</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: “A Bash”</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao thats cuz youve got no imagination kanaya</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well make sure its lit AF right jake</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Golly i do love me a good soiree no matter the circumstance.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Id be chuffed to the nines to be your third man on this one rox.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: then its official</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: this time next week well corpse party like its the end of the world!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: er</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: again!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane pushes up her spectacles so that she can pinch the bridge of her nose.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jane">JANE: How is it that no matter how hard I try to keep the foolishness in my life confined exclusively to my romantic partners...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I invariably find myself surrounded by clowns regardless?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOnK.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "21": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            21
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">I</span>t’s raining again, coming down in a frigid torrent. John is a pallbearer this time around. Teen-Jade is so light, he and Jake alone carry the coffin with ease. Together, they trudge through the ankle-deep puddles while their friends line up on either side of the stone steps that lead into the cathedral.</p>
    <p>It’s just them this time—Earth C’s very own dysfunctional collection of Old Gods. John can’t say he misses the clangor of a shameless press hounding them from the edges of what is supposed to be a somber ceremony. But the smallness of the congregation under the tall, gothic ceilings makes Roxy’s attitude at the pulpit all the more absurd. She leads John and Jake into the building and down the center of the nave, humming happily to herself the entire time. An equally effusive Calliope trails behind her, carrying a bouquet of purple flowers. Despite Roxy’s insistence that this sad event could only bring them all closer together, the group is sitting in chilly segments on either side of aisle, pointedly not interacting. Karkat is sitting all on his own about six pews behind Jade and Dave. Gamzee is hanging out by the door, having been banished there by Jane like a wet dog. No one in the cathedral can blame her, because he certainly smells like one.</p>
    <p>Roxy, bathed in pink and gold light from the stained glass behind her, spreads her arms and begins to speechify. She practically has to shout to be heard over the roar of the rainstorm outside.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thx everyone for joining us today</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we are gathered here to honor the memory of alternate universe jade</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: alas we hardly knew her</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: by which i mean we didnt know her at all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cuz she fell out of the sky like a week ago and was already dead</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but i think that based on our long acquaintanceship with alive jade we can safely assume that she was totally rad</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: (ugh)</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so were all here to contemplate the vast cruelness of the universe that such radness was plucked in its prime</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: psst callie the roses</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh, of coUrse!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope begins plucking the petals off her bouquet and tossing them in a fluttery, uneven arc over Roxy’s impressively coiffed hair.</p>
    <p>John facepalms audibly in the crowd. He’d spent the entire morning giving one more go at talking Roxy out of the entire affair, but she was stubbornly dedicated to her artistic vision. You gave it the old college try chap, Jake said to him earlier as he waxed his mustache in the mirror. But its better for a man to just let his wife do whatever she wants. I promise youll experience less pain that way old boy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: pUrple roses traditionally represent love at first sight, however these roses are actUally red roses that we prepared Using a blUe dye.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: the blUe rose is the most elUsive and mysterioUs of all flowers.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: the combination of red and blUe in this context is meant to evoke the dUal natUre of death, in that there is nothing more mysterioUs and impossible to comprehend than the vast void of the afterlife, bUt also there is nothing that makes Us appreciate the life and and love that we already have than the mystery of death.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: while death is terrifying, there is always joy to be foUnd among the sorrow. each time we witness death, we fall in love with the important people in oUr lives all over again.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope is gazing at Roxy with glassy eyes. She sniffs as she plucks the last petal from her rose. A breeze washes through the cathedral from the crack in the door at the end of the room, brushing the petal off-course and causing it to get stuck in Roxy’s over-sprayed hair. Calliope reaches out with a visibly shaking hand to remove the plant offal, but she does not draw back. Instead, she lets her hand graze down the side of Roxy’s face and cup her cheek. Roxy puts her own hand over Callie’s and holds it.</p>
    <p>John tilts his head and squints at the image in front of him. Hmm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: woah callie thats a beautiful metaphor</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: aw, thank yoU roxy. u_u</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dont sound so humble it is v v deep</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i jUst can’t take credit for external inspiration.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao cmon callie youre the literal muse</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yes, bUt yoU’re...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This very tender scene is cruelly interrupted by the sound of the cathedral door slamming open.</p>
    <p>Everyone whips their heads around to see, of all people, Aradia hovering in the foyer. Her wings radiate a soft, ephemeral glow that paints the walls around her pink and red. Sollux is with her, feeling his way into the church along the grain of the door. He’s soaked head to toe.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh no did we miss the entire corpse party</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i hope not</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: yes that w0uld be *such* a tragedy.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh shush you</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: the tragedy is what i dont want to miss!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat jumps to his feet, eyes so wide they’re practically popping out of his head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARADIA?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOLY SHIT... SOLLUX?!</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: hey l0ser. it’s been a l0ng time.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S BEEN A...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S BEEN A “LONG TIME”?! </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME?! IT’S BEEN MORE THAN A FUCKING HUMAN DECADE! </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE DEAD.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: no i wasnt dead</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO, I MEAN LIKE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: “GONE FOREVER”??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I THOUGHT THAT YOU TWO LITERALLY DIDN’T EXIST ANYMORE!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR AT THE VERY LEAST WERE TRAPPED IN A DEAD UNIVERSE PERPETUALLY COLLAPSING INTO ITS OWN ASSHOLE.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: 0h. n0pe.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FINE! </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WALTZ IN HERE WITH NO EXPLANATION WHATSOEVER. SOUNDS ABOUT FUCKING RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S NOT LIKE YOUR SUDDEN AND UNEXPLAINED PRESENCE IS ANY LESS OF A JOKE THAN THIS “FUNERAL” WE’RE HAVING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, WHY STOP AT SOLLUX AND ARADIA?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MAYBE FUCKING NEPETA IS ABOUT TO POUNCE FROM BEHIND THAT GROTESQUE STATUE OF THE HUMAN SUFFERER T-POSING OVER THERE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NEPETA, ARE YOU THERE? COME ON OUT! THE CORPSE PARTY WOULDN’T BE THE SAME WITHOUT YOU!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: SHOOSH everyone!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: there will be a reception with cake n candy after the service</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u all can have ur poignant reunions then</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: before we unite in tearful togetherness we gotta unite in tearful loss</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait... there’s more?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought that nice speech callie made was, like...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: pretty much the funeral.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol no </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: callie and i were just gettin started</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh my god...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: anyway where was i?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: how the infinite mystery of death makes Us appreciate the love we have!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: right</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy starts giving the second act of her eulogy. Aradia glides to the floor and sets her feet on the stone tiling, elfin and weightless. She sidles up to Gamzee and jostles him in the ribs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: so i see you managed to get out of the fridge</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i DiDn’T jUsT gEt OuT oF tHe FrIdGe, I wAs SeT fReE sIsTeR!</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i see</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wHeN tHe DoOr Of ThAt FrIdGe pOpPeD oPeN iT wAs LikE i Be AlL sEeIn ThE lIgHt AnD sHiT.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: well yeah</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: that’s what happens when s0me0ne 0pens a d00r t0 a t0tally dark encl0sure.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: fuck, i can’t believe y0u’re still this stupid.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: 0h wait i can.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: nO bRoThEr, It’S a MoThErFuCkIn MeTaPhOr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: A mEtApHoR fOr ThE mIrAcLe Of rEdEmPtIoN!</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: redemption</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yEaH cHeCk It ThE fUcK oUt. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i DiD My MoThErFuCkInG rEdEmPtIoN aRc. :o)</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: is that so</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i BeEn DoInG aLl KiNdS oF gOoD dEeDs At ThE lOsT mOtHeRfUcKeRs. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: pReAcHiNg ThE hOlY wOrD. mAkInG oUt WiTh OrPhAns.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh hmm</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: isn’t it “kissing 0rphans”? </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: let him talk sollux</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i EvEn GoT a HeAlThY mUtUaLlY fUlLfIlLiNg kIsMeSiS gOiN oN wItH tHaT fOxY hUmAn BrOaD uP fRoNt.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia turns to look in the direction of his lecherous ogle. She observes the bored-looking woman who she recognizes to be Jane. Aradia looks her up and down, and arches an eyebrow in approval. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: its so nice that you believe all that gamzee</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i think i can honestly say</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: im reasonably happy for you?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg quiet in the back already!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were tryin to have a beautiful and solemn proceeding up here</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh im sorry</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i do agree that its a beautiful corpse party</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but i think it would be even MORE beautiful if we could you know</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: actually see the corpse?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD ARADIA, WHY ARE YOU STILL LIKE THIS?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy smacks herself in the forehead, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. Of course, how could she forget the fucking corpse?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh lol ur right i cant believe that slipped my mind</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey jake a lil help?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im like hella pregnant here and shouldnt be doing any heavy lifting</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake leaps from his seat, very enthusiastic to be freed from the ice-cold grip of Jane’s perfectly manicured hand. He jumps onto the stage and begins unlatching the coffin while Calliope throws more rose petals for some reason. Living-Jade slumps in her seat a bit, beginning to look green.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: ughhh...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo babe its ok</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: easy for you to say! youve got practice with this kind of thing!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just remember its not actually your corpse</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean technically it is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it both is and isnt your corpse at the same time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which yeah the longer you think about it like that the more fucked up it gets</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but also when you objectively think about it the combined multiverse is a huge tangle of interrelated but totally random events and its only chance that this specific life is the one you ended up living</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you and that corpse could have just as easily switched places</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but also that would never actually happen because its not how paradox space works</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway my point is that nothing really matters so chill out</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: um, i love you with all my heart dave but youre REALLY not helping right now</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">With a grunt, Jake pries at the coffin. The lid creaks open and hits the side of the pulpit with a loud crack. The noise reverberates through the entire cathedral, shaking dust off of the unused pews and rattling the iron in the stained-glass windows. Outside, a clap of thunder follows.</p>
    <p>Aradia vaults into the air and flits over the pews to get a better look at the body. Teen-Jade remains in the bloody Space outfit she crashed to Earth in, since nobody was willing to dislodge the huge, otherworldly shard from her chest in order to change her. But Roxy has done the corpse’s makeup beautifully, and fashioned her a lovely flower crown. If not for all the blood caked down her front, and her conspicuous impalement, she’d look like she was merely sleeping.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: now this is more like it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i cant look... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: here</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave slings an arm around her shoulders. She starts to snuggle in, but Dave is absolutely not initiating physical contact here for the purpose of getting his cuddle on. Instead of cradling Jade in his arms, he uses his hands to cover her eyes. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: uhh... what... are you doing??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: emotional support yo</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Dave. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: id like to see you do better</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Me Too Actually</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m sorry, but I’m not the one whose questionable consolation tactics are on trial here.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: this isn’t a trial! it’s a fUneral!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha, they’ve got a point rose, you gotta admit.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: A point about what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re not great at consolation? just saying.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh You Dont Know The Half Of It</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Excuse all of you, but I’m an excellent advice giver.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: umm nobody said anything about advice giving rose...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah, the advice is top notch. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but you’re kind of a weird person to like... cry in front of?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no offense.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the first time i ever got upset in front of rose irl, she put her arms around me and it was so awkward that i had to ask her if she was hugging me or reaching for something on the shelf behind me.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: everyone, we’re getting rather off track... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I was doing both for your information.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the first time rose hugged me it was such a disaster we didnt make eye contact for like a week after</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Jade Come Here I Shall Hold You In My Arms</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: thank you kanaya at least ONE of you knows how to treat a lady in distress!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Agreed. I’ve always felt that Kanaya has done an exemplary job of providing a model for compassionate, empathetic behavior, which others of her kind would do well to follow.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m sorry, Mr. Vantas. Do you have another unsolicited political opinion you’d like to share with everyone?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CONSIDERING THE SHIT GEYSER THAT JUST SHOT OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE CANNON, I’D SAY MY OPINION IS PRETTY FUCKING SOLICITED RIGHT ABOUT NOW.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: EVERYONE!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: be qUiet!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope yells so loud that her voice becomes a hollow, howling shriek. The glass in the candelabras above her shatters, snuffing out the candles and filling the choir with blue smoke. She gasps and covers her mouth with both hands, shrinking beneath the startled looks she’s receiving from the rest of the funeral-goers. </p>
    <p>Slowly, she lowers her arms, staring at her hands in shock. This time, she whispers:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: please. roxy gathered yoU all here for a reason.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: at least listen Until the end.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: after that yoU can argUe all you want.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy comes back to the pulpit and wraps an arm around Calliope’s shoulders.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: look everyone im not dumb ok even tho i act like it sometimes</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know whats goin on here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: that were all drifting apart</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and i know thats just a normal part of growing up and making new families</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and i guess learning that some people have unbridgeable divides on political stuff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i can accept that things arent gonna always be the same as when we first met</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: specially with dirk gone</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: damn...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: even though its been more than a year i still feel it like he died yesterday</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what callie said earlier about death being mysterious and full of love is true</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i dont know if i ever would have gotten up the courage to marry john if dirk hadnt died</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sometimes i think about what it would have been like if he was still here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think we can all agree that if dirk didnt kill himself there would be some big differences in the lives of people here in this room</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i cant say if theyd be good or bad</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe when it comes to this kind of thing... like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: infinite probability and multiple universes and shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: good and bad dont matter</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres no better or worse just different</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: even with dead jade here whos to say that the world she came from was actually worse than ours?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: she probably died a heroic death doin something incredible </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we probably only have the great lives we do right now because of her sacrifice</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the universal odds of us all being alive and healthy and together like this are so infinitesimally low that its literally impossible for us to understand with our limited linear consciousness</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: isnt that amazing??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so even if this is the last time were all ever in the same room like this</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think its just incredible we could be here in the first place</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: out of a sempiternal number of possibilities we are the only incarnation of this exact specific moment in all of existence</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think that we should all look around and be super grateful for what we </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wh... what we</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wh... wha...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whoah fuck</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy’s voice starts to crack. She staggers off the podium, clutching her bloated stomach. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: roxy? are yoU okay?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: of course im not ok i just WENT INTO FREAKING LABOR</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John scrambles to his feet.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s happening, oh my god!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my GOD!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg john are you just gonna keep shouting oh my god or are you GONNA HELP YOUR WIFEY OUT </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: OH MY GOD!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John stumbles up the stairs to the pulpit, holding his head with both hands. It’s actually Jake, still dutifully standing next to the corpse, who catches Roxy under the armpits when she topples backwards. He passes her off to John, who whips up a cushion of wind for her to recline on.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: doing ok there, sweetheart?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ugh whyd i let you put this thing inside me</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: don’t worry roxy! we’ll get it out as soon as we can!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: er, by “it,” i mean our child. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we probably shouldn’t be talking about him in dehumanizing terms before he’s even born, huh?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: seems like kind of a bad omen?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg.......... john SHUT UP</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i need like six gallons of demerol STAT</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lets GOOO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: right! going!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John swoops his wife up in his arms and starts scrambling down the aisle. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: wait! i...  </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i woUld like to be there as well!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hurry up then!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope begins sprinting after John and Roxy but doesn’t make it two steps before something stops her in her tracks. A feeling that crawls under her exoskeleton. She stands deathly still for a moment, and then turns to face the coffin. Something about the corpse has transfixed her. She curls her fingers around the rim of the casket and leans in, studying teen-Jade’s peaceful face.</p>
    <p>Suddenly, the corpse bolts upright. Calliope yelps and falls on her butt. Adult-Jade screams. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By jove!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus fuck</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Hair veiling her face, teen-Jade sets her hands on her chest and dissolves the shard bisecting her ribcage. The wound does not heal, but it doesn’t bleed either.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: jade! yoU...  </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yoU’re alive!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: or, Um,</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yoU’re not dead!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It takes the corpse a while to reply. Everyone waits for her to speak. When the words leave her mouth, they send a chill through the cathedral air. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i am not jade.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Slowly, Jade raises her head. The stage makeup Roxy applied earlier is running down her face in dark rivers. Her eyes are solid black. Even more than black, it seems. They are hollows penetrating deep into a field of absence so profound, it’s hard to imagine a single photon has ever crossed through its infinite expanse. Meeting her gaze is like peering into a realm where light goes to die. Calliope finds the sensation disturbingly familiar.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: then who...  </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: who are yoU?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you know who i am, calliope.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: we met once, years ago.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you were dead, and so was i.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope now understands exactly who is speaking to her. She tenses up, scuttles backward, and begins tumbling down the stairs into the aisle. She starts running before she’s even up on both feet, clawing the carpet ragged in her desperation to escape the cathedral. The congregation watches her go, but no one moves to help her, or even looks in her direction. In her wake, she leaves a primal, echoing wail. The door closes thunderously behind her. Her scream can be heard beyond the doors, growing quieter as she recedes into the distance.</p>
    <p>Kanaya adjusts the buttons on her very fashionable mourning gloves and sighs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: This Certainly Is A Turn Of Events</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ill say</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: at first i was underwhelmed with the proceedings i have to admit</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but that was quite the twist</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: this may be one of the best death related celebrations ive ever seen :)</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: t0p five at least.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Teen-Jade floats out of her coffin with measured grace. Adult-Jade shudders as her reanimated duplicate passes by. She slides back into Kanaya’s comforting arms and hides her face in the crook of her neck. Teen-Jade directs her pitch-black eyes toward the arched marble ceiling, and gazes skyward with a sort of intensity and purpose nobody in this crowd has seen in years. It’s as if her glare is passing through the roof of the church and continuing unimpeded through the partitions of this very plane of reality itself. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you’re undoubtedly surprised.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but these events were not unpredictable at all.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: this is exactly what i have been expecting to happen.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She spreads her arms and speaks in a voice as deep and dark as the void.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and while i cannot say the same thing for the rest of you, </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i, at least, am exactly where i am meant to be.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake meekly raises his hand, now treating the botched funeral as something closer to a classroom setting.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Hey uh.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Not to come off as a total idiot here but...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Who were you supposed to be again?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She directs the powerful vacuum of her hollow glare towards the total idiot. She regards him for a moment, radiating a sense of disdain for what may very well be the greatest living source of ignorance she has ever encountered in her many eons of existence.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: my name is calliope.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i am the muse of space.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and i have entered this body to protect your world.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "22": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE FIVE</h2>
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            22
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    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-lg" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3Y JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: T1M3 FOR YOUR R3GUL4R CH3CKUP H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. hey.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: “OH H3Y”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PR3TTY T3P1D R3C3PT1ON FROM 4 GUY WHO H4S 1N TH3 P4ST B3GG3D D3SP3R4T3LY FOR 3V3N 4 SCR4P OF MY 4TT3NT1ON </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m glad to hear from you. it’s just... i dunno, a lot’s happened recently.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sort of numb from all of it.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO T3LL M3 4BOUT 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are you my therapist now?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO 1M JUST 4 S1MPL3 G1RL WHO LOV3S TH3 T4ST3 OF YOUR SUFF3R1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SO HUNGRY OUT H3R3 4LON3 1N P4R4DOX SP4C3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PL34S3 NOUR1SH M3 W1TH YOUR P4TH3T1C M1DL1FE 3NNU1</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s not midlife ennui! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not even thirty yet, come on.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: also... um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m married? so... yeah.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LOL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO3S TH4T H4V3 TO DO W1TH 4NYTH1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: err...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nevermind. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so what’s up with you?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH S4M3 OLD S4M3 OLD</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T 4R3 YOU DO1NG R1GHT NOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. i’m at harry anderson’s birthday party. </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOUNDS 1MPORT4NT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: M4YB3 1 SHOULD L3T YOU GO TH3N</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... it’s fine. i can talk for a bit.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND L34V3 H4RRY 4ND3RSON H4NG1NG?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WOW 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUD TH1NK 4N 3LD3RLY M4N L1K3 YOU WOULD KNOW MOR3 4BOUT D3CORUM TH4N M3, 4 ROWDY YOUTH!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: harry anderson is basically just a baby who doesn’t understand anything.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: a baby, kind of like YOU.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SO WHOS H4RRY 4ND3RSON?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh! that’s me and roxy’s son.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH COOL H3 GOT BORN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah terezi. he got born like three years ago.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS B33N TH4T LONG?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, wow is right. where the hell have you been?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LOST</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: lost... how?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like literally, physically lost?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or metaphorically lost.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BOTH 1 GU3SS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH NO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3 US3 P1TY1NG 3LL1PS3S 4T M3 JOHN 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry! it’s kinda hard not to when every time you go i have no idea if i’ll ever talk to you again.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OK YOUR3 OBV1OUSLY NOT 1N 4 PL4C3 TO T4LK R1GHT NOW</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 D1DNT CONT4CT YOU B3C4US3 1 W4NT3D TO D34L W1TH YOUR W33PY S3P4R4T1ON ANX13TY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOW 4BOUT 1 M4K3 TH1S 34SY FOR YOU 4ND JUST LOG OFF </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, please don’t go!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry for being all... human and weepy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m actually in a pretty ok place for once, i think?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: C4LM DOWN 1 W4SNT F1N1SH3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L1ST3N... 1LL T3XT YOU B4CK 1N F1V3 M1NUT3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TLL G1V3 YOU SOM3 T1M3 TO 3MOT1ON4LLY PROC3SS THE H4RROW1NG 3XP3R13NC3 OF 4CTU4LLY H34R1NG FROM M3 4G41N &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: promise me it’ll only be five minutes?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because i worry about you!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just don’t want you to leave me hanging for another year, making me wonder if you’re dead.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: please??</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UGH!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: F1N3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 H3R3BY SOL3MNLY SW34R UPON TH3 BOOK OF DUMB N33DY LOS3RS TH4T 1 W1LL T3XT YOU 1N *3X4CTLY* F1V3 M1NUT3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whew. THANK you!</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OK 1TS F1V3 M1NUT3S L4T3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT T3LL M3 4NOTH3R TWO SW33PS H4V3 P4SS3D</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nah, just a couple of weeks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh boy, what a couple of weeks though.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you would NOT believe what’s happening right now.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4V3 1 3V3R NOT B3L13V3D WH4T W4S H4PP3N1NG WH3N YOU S41D 1 WOULDNT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, but to be fair this one is especially wild.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: here wait, let me take a picture.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">-- <span class="john">JOHN EGBERT</span> sent <span class="terezi">TEREZI PYROPE</span> the photo “ghostrain.jpg” -- </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T TH3 4CTU4L FUCK</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it started a few days ago. the sky above the capital of the troll kingdom just cracked open and ghosts began raining down everywhere.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, now that i think about it, i guess it started three years ago when a dead teen version of jade fell from the sky and crashed into the ground during a picnic.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HUH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that only affected our group though. this whole thing with the troll ghosts has been a *huge* international incident. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the political situation surrounding trolls was already tense enough without adding a gigantic population of immigrant ghost trolls to the mix.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W41T, WH4T H4PP3N3D?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, well... because of what we know about alternian history...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the government decided it was probably a bad idea to let trolls reproduce freely, especially considering how different our planet is from alternia.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 SUPPOS3 TH4T M4K3S S3NS3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W1THOUT ST4T3 S4NCT1ON3D CULL1NG, TH3 TROLL POPUL4T1ON WOULD QU1CKLY DOM1N4T3 TH3 PL4N3T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 34RTH C DO3SNT STR1K3 ME 4S TH3 SORT OF PL4C3 TH4T WOULD T4K3 K1NDLY TO 4 LOT OF CULL1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. that was part of the government’s official argument.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: “it’s either this, or culling.”</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but it didn’t stop there. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: also a bunch of laws have been passed that restrict the kind of jobs that trolls can have. like, they’re not allowed to serve in the government or rise past a certain rank in the military. they can’t even be judges!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: G4SP</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know. it’s pretty bad here.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: CONS1D3R1NG TH3 GO4L 1S TO L1M1T TH3 SPR34D 4ND 1NFLU3NC3 OF TROLLS, TH1S 4LL S33MS L1K3...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: QU1T3 4N 4LT3RN14N SOLUT1ON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well... jane is sort of a key political player now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she’s not “in” the government, exactly. but she has so much money she may as well BE the government.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: her company can do basically whatever it wants. and it seems more and more like what it wants is to make sure the politicians are saying exactly what it wants them to say.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4LW4YS SUSP3CT3D SH3D B33N SW4Y3D BY TH3 COND3SC3 MOR3 TH4N SH3 3V3R L3T ON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. i guess she was.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: although... i dunno, for some reason it doesn’t feel right to me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i KNEW a grown-up version of jane. she was my nanna. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i never met her until she came back as a sprite. but she just seemed like a kindly old grandma who liked to play pranks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not a... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: G3NOC1D3 F4N?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not even close!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just can’t believe how fast everything deteriorated.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT T3LL M3 3V3YON3S JUST T4K1NG TH1S LY1NG DOWN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: of course not! kanaya and rose are both heavily involved in grassroots activism right now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and karkat...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he’s gone completely off the grid!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: at first we all assumed that the reason he ran away was because he got fed up with his shitty poly relationship.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: which was probably part of it, honestly. but now i keep seeing his face on all the resistance posters! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think they may have actually put him in charge?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4LW4YS KN3W H3 H4D 1T 1N H1M</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave’s heartbroken though... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY DO3SNT D4V3 JUST GO 4ND JO1N H1M TH3N</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he worries about jade i guess?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: J4D3 WOULD B3 F1N3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SH3S TH3 MOST R3S1L13NT OUT OF 4LL OF YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sigh. you know how dave is.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LOY4L TO 4 F4ULT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. he...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: holy shit, hang on. i gotta take another picture.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">-- <span class="john">JOHN EGBERT</span> sent <span class="terezi">TEREZI PYROPE</span> the photo “PBandJ.jpg” -- </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T TH3 FUCK 1S TH1S?!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heheheheh.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT TYP3 YOUR L4UGHS 4T M3 4FT3R TR1CK1NG M3 1NTO LOOK1NG 4T TH1S 4BOMIN41TON</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought you might find it interesting. :-)</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY WOULD 1 *3V3R* W4NT TO S33 G4MZ33 M4K1NG OUT W1TH T4VROS 4G41N???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: again?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UGH D1SGUST1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1N PUBL1C 4ND 3V3RYTH1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, it’s always in public.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this is how gamzee helps people have their “redemption arcs.”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BY M4K1NG OUT W1TH TH3M???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, not always. sometimes he has them make out with each other. usually he just feeds them milk out of that stupid baby bottle he keeps with him all the time.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think it’s supposed to be like, some completely idiotic form of baptism he made up.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway, speaking of tavros.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what do you think about the morality of kidnapping someone if they’re really unhappy and possibly also being abused?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, so like, if you kidnap someone and the situation you’re kidnapping them into is way better than the one you kidnapped them out of, that’s not morally wrong, right?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU TRY1NG TO G3T M3 4LL 4FLUST3R3D W1TH SUCH H1GHLY ILL3G4L SW33T T4LK</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ARE you flustered?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 M1GHT B3, 1F 1 THOUGHT YOU WOULD 4CTU4LLY BR34K TH3 L4W </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey, i could totally do it!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1LL B3L1EV3 1T WH3N 1 SM3LL 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, i guess i’m gonna do it then!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SUR3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m totally going to do it! next time we talk, it’ll be me telling you all about my successful and highly illegal kidnapping venture.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T3V3R YOU S4Y</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4NYW4Y, N1C3 HUDDL3 3GB3RT, BUT 1 H4V3 TO GO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait! </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re going already?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you barely said anything!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you just listened to me ramble on about earth c’s problems.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1SNT TH4T HOW TH3S3 CONV3RS4T1ONS USU4LLY GO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess it is.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but it doesn’t have to be like that, you know.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMM</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what’s going on with you?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: D1D 1T OCCUR TO YOU TH4T M4YB3 TH3 R34SON 1 C4LL YOU 1S B3C4US3 1 W4NT 4 BR13F R3PR13V3 FROM “WH4TS GO1NG ON W1TH M3”?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, that makes sense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just don’t want you to feel that you’re like, my psychiatrist or whatever.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: AWW TH4TS CUT3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT WORRY 4BOUT M3 JOHN </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU W3R3 BUGG1NG M3 1D JUST STOP T3XT1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: cool. if i’m not bugging you, then... can i ask a favor?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS C3RT41NLY W1TH1N YOUR POW3R TO 4SK M3 4 F4VOR</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 C4NT PROM1S3 TO FULF1LL 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh, now i feel even dumber for what i’m about to ask.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know if i even wanna do it now.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4RGH! OUT W1TH 1T 3GB3RT!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ummm...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: F1N3! 1LL DO 1T, WH4T3V3R 1T 1S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST SO YOU C34S3 TH1S M4DD3N1NG N3RDBOY 1NS3CUR1TY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, ok!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: can you...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: take a selfie?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and... send it to me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, i probably sound so creepy right now.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4H4H4H4H4H4H4</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey, don’t laugh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: look, it’s just that... after all the talking we’ve done over the years... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re pretty important to me, terezi. and with everything getting so weird, i’ve been getting scared lately.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so in case things go to shit over here, or things go to shit wherever you are...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just want to make sure i have something to remember you by.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so will you do it?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Terezi doesn’t answer, which is what John was expecting. He frowns and pockets his phone, blinking at the sudden brightness above him. The sky is ripped open in a dozen places, spilling ghosts and razor shards of unreality. John shields his face against the neon glare and scans the park for his family. Roxy and Calliope usually come listen to Gamzee preach, and John’s long since grown tired of trying to talk them out of it. The best he can do at this point is tag along to make sure that young Harry Anderson isn’t hearing all this utter nonsense without the tempering influence of his skeptical father. It’s the responsible, adult thing to do. </p>
    <p>Well, it would be the responsible, adult thing to do if John were actually doing it. Instead, he just spent the last ten minutes surreptitiously texting Terezi under the hem of his suit jacket. Now he’s lost track of his wife, his son, and his wife’s sort-of-ex-girlfriend in the enraptured throng of all these brainless clown worshippers. The crowd is mostly ghosts, but there’s a substantial number of carapacian and human citizens out here tonight as well, straining to get a good look at the newly “redeemed” acolytes. </p>
    <p>John’s eye wanders toward the center of the crowd’s focus. Looks like a conversion is taking place right now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NoW We wElCoMe iNtO ThE DoPe aRmS Of mOtHeR ReDeMpTiOn tHiS lOwLy PeNiTeNt WhO’s AlL kInDs Of SoRrY aBoUt HiS pAsT dEeDs.</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: oh yeah im vvery redeemed</p>
    <p class="feferi">FEFERI: )(mm are you s)(ore?</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: fef you dont believve me</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: wwhat do i havve to fuckin do crawwl on the fuckin ground at your feet </p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: snortin and snufflin at your shoes like a mushroom sniffin porkfiend</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: sizin up those covvetous swweaty delicacies stuffed wwithin</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: like a couple of premium shrimp loavves garnished wwith ten exquisite pygmy soiree wwieners</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: im a wworm fef</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: im the lowwest of the wworst</p>
    <p class="feferi">FEFERI: Okaaay. If t)(at’s really )(ow you feel, i guess i can... accept your apology.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NiIiIiIiCe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NoW tHiS iS wHaT i’M tAlKiNg AbOuT. AlL tHiS fOrGiVnEsS aNd ShIt Up In ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg HoUsE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: aFtEr AlL, wHaT’s A lItTlE</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: MURDER </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BeTwEeN mOiRaIlS?</p>
    <p class="feferi">FEFERI: I guess t)(at’s true! It )(appens to t)(e best of us. 38)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU bOtH aRe So ClOsE tO tHe ReDeMpTiOn NoW.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: fIrSt, A LiTtLe RiGhTeOuS sPlAsH oF tHe NaNnA nEcTaR tO cLeAnSe ThAt DaNkNeSs FrOm YoUr SoUlS...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee takes out a baby bottle and flicks it, covering them both with little drops of milk, as clergy does with holy water. He then takes a swig from the bottle himself before returning it to his codpiece. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NoW... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: kIsS, mY mOtHeRfUcKeRs.</p>
    <p class="feferi">FEFERI: Ummmm... </p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: FINALLY</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: pucker up fef and plant one on me</p>
    <p class="feferi">FEFERI: 38\</p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: you gotta its the rules</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHe MoThErFuCkEr’S rIgHt. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: It AlL bE fUcKiN cRiTiCaL tO bOtH yOuR rEdEmPtIoN, tO kIsS aNd MaKe Up :o)</p>
    <p class="eridan">FEFERI: Sig)(. If it’s for redemption, t)(en...  </p>
    <p class="eridan">FEFERI: Very well. </p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: oh fuck yeah </p>
    <p class="eridan">ERIDAN: RUB A DUB DUB COME GIMME A GLUB!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John makes a disgusted face as Gamzee grabs the two trolls by a horn each and mashes their faces together. One of them looks extremely into it. The other... not so much. John would have been transfixed by the spectacle for longer if his phone didn’t start buzzing in his pocket again. He fumbles it out of his coat and checks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">-- <span class="terezi">TEREZI PYROPE</span> sent <span class="john">JOHN EGBERT</span> the photo “H3R3.JPG” -- </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He looks around, then presses “accept,” embarrassed to realize how fast his heart is beating. Before he can look at the photo, a familiar voice breaks through the din of the crowd.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yo john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: over here hon!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John puts his phone away quickly. Roxy’s holding Harry Anderson up on her shoulder. John can see his son’s face, grinning and bright-eyed, bobbing above the crowd. He returns the smile and starts to make his way toward his wife.</p>
    <p>Just then, a dark shadow passes over the park. The crowd falls silent as they raise their heads to watch a drone ship pass by overhead. Its design is insect-like, splitting into many jagged branches, each decked out with weapons and cameras. It’s completely silent, and encased in armor with a bright red finish, smooth and seamless. It’s often cited by Jane as the crown jewel of Crockercorp’s various military contracts with the government. </p>
    <p>John reunites with his family and takes Harry Anderson from Roxy. The toddler buries his face in John’s chest to escape the horrible sight crawling across the sky above them. Calliope clasps her hands together and stares at the ship with a terse expression. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: it’s getting less and less UnUsUal to see those in the troll kingdom, isn’t it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can’t help but think the government’s getting ready for something big.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao you worry too much</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: janeys got her head on straight shell show you yet</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh, let’s not talk about this right now.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea ur right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its gettin late anyway we should head home</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: see you next week callie?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh. yes. always, roxy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">That night, after he and Roxy put Harry Anderson to bed and Roxy retires to their room for the evening, John goes to his office and prints out the picture of Terezi. He doesn’t have any nice photo paper to put it on, so it comes out too dark with the colors all smeared. He scrubs the printer history settings when he’s finished.</p>
    <p>When his anxiety is assuaged, he flops down in the spinny chair at the center of the room and studies the picture. Terezi doesn’t look that much different from how he remembers her—a little more worn, maybe, thinner and older and more tired, but it’s her. She’s smiling, and holding up her hand in a cheeky wave that suggests neither a greeting or a farewell. The light from the phone screen is reflected in her glasses. John can’t see her eyes.</p>
    <p>He folds the picture into quarters and slips it into his wallet, behind Harry Anderson’s baby photo. Then he turns off the light and goes to bed.</p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            23
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: honey u ready to go?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, sweetheart... give me a second!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John finishes fixing his tie in the bedroom mirror, taking a moment to check the hallway door in the reflection. Roxy hasn’t come looking for him, which is good because he’s still got a few things to prepare and he’d rather she didn’t see the items he’s about to pull out of their closet. </p>
    <p>He hasn’t told his wife what he’s planning, because he doesn’t want to be talked out of it. Typically he rankles at the prospect of spending time with Jane and her family. So Roxy was surprised when he agreed to hold Harry Anderson’s fifth birthday party at Jane’s mansion. But she didn’t question him about it. In fact, all she did was tip her head at him and blink a few times, her long eyelashes catching the light, making her eyes look like mirrors. It was disconcerting for reasons that he couldn’t put his finger on. It’s not like Roxy had ever been argumentative, exactly. He just seems to remember someone from his youth who was somewhat more contrarian in spirit than this person he’s married to now. </p>
    <p>Back when they were dating, John thought she was acting a little off. Not quite in a bad way, but perhaps a little too “in love,” too fast. At least she still seemed like herself most of the time. But since the wedding, every year that goes by, she seems to become just a little more conciliatory. Not just toward him but toward life in general. She indulges Harry Anderson liberally and almost thoughtlessly. She doesn’t care that her best friend is slowly turning into an executive overseeing the corporate arm up the puppet ass of a ruthless dictatorship. She still thinks Gamzee is being sincere about all this “redemption” bullshit, even though he’s been casting an increasingly dark and hungry shadow behind Jane: a malicious royal vizier to her burgeoning imperial persona. John’s been frustrated with it in a quiet, guilty way, because he loves his wife. And even more than that, he loves their son. When he doesn’t think too hard about all this stuff, it seems perfect. </p>
    <p>But sometimes John can’t help but lie awake at night, staring at the dark ceiling until he loses the grip on his “perfect life” entirely. He starts to fear that if he closes his eyes, he might reopen them to discover it was all an illusion: Harry Anderson, Earth C, Lord English’s alleged “defeat”... or maybe, stretching even further back than that. The trolls, the game, everything important and exciting that’s ever happened to him. Was it all a lie? Like some big prank?</p>
    <p>No... at least some of it had to be real. Dave, Jade, and Rose are real. Their friendship is real. At least, it used to feel that way. He needs to believe it still is. And what about Terezi? She’s real too, and John’s got that picture to prove it, burning a hole in his wallet. Yet he keeps it there, because at least that feels like something. It’s the same feeling that makes him do subtle things to push against his wife’s placid demeanor. He never quite tries to start a fight. But at this point, he wouldn’t mind having one either. At least it might help reassure him that she’s real too. </p>
    <p>If she doesn’t get upset after what he’s about to pull today, then...  </p>
    <p>John doesn’t know what he’ll do.</p>
    <p>He goes to the closet and unhinges the bottom of the drawer where he keeps all of his identical blue ties. In this secret compartment are some tools: graphene wire, a multi-tool screwdriver, molding plaster... John’s so focused on finding places in his coat to hide all these things that he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: dad... what are you doing?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John spins around, startled. It’s just his kid, though, already looking uncomfortable in his tweed jacket and knee socks. John kicks the closet door closed. He already has everything he needs anyway.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: just getting your gifts, harry anderson! it’s your birthday after all.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: ...but i already opened all the gifts from you and mom.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: dad... are you telling a fib?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ummm... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John ruffles his son’s hair and shoots him one of his patented Egbertian winks. He decides then and there that a good father wouldn’t need to keep any secrets from his son. No, a good dad will always let his son in on the joke, no matter how much trouble he might be about to get himself in.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: harry anderson, don’t tell your mother but... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we’re getting a new addition to the family today!</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s little Tavros Crocker who opens the door to Jane’s opulent mansion. He’s still so short that he has to stand up on his toes to reach the knob. He stares up at his visitors with a serious expression, the prescription on his spectacles distorting the size of his pupils so that they look like big, wet, depressing sinkholes. John’s heart wrenches at the sight of him. He’s so young, but he always looks so somber and sad. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Oh,,, hallo folks, </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: You’re a mite early don’t you think?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, nope!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave and Jade materialize behind everyone, he in a pressed red suit, she in a glittering Space dress. They’re both holding gifts wrapped in spare printer paper. Dave adjusts his sunglasses and smirks at Harry Anderson.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you were exactly thirty seconds and like sixty eight nanoseconds early</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh eff off dave </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ur gettin even cornier than john and youre not even a dad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk my guy harry over there seems to be enjoying my material</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: heh heh it’s like you’re a living atomic clock!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: man i love this kid </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what kind of five year old is into atomic clocks</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn every time i see him i just wanna pinch his cheeks and tell him about what things were like when i was his age and shit</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: heheheh if you like kids so much dave why dont you just BUY one?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh jade i know that what you think you were doing there was like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: smoothly inserting the idea of us one day adopting kids into the conversation</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but what you actually just described is literal slavery</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is both illegal and bad</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sigh......  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: maybe YOURE the one whos illegal and bad</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ever think of that???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nope never once crossed my mind</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway john roxy you heard the lady can we buy your kid</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no! he’s not for sale. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Um,,, do you all want to come in or not,,,?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros has been waiting patiently for the adults to finish talking the whole time, like he always does. He leads everyone inside with a stoic countenance more befitting of a footman than the firstborn son of the planet’s wealthiest family. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sooo</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wheres ur mom and dad</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: They’re still in,,, uh,,, auspistice counselling,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: W, with,,, uncle gamzee,,,</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh woof</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: woof is right</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: hey tavros! is vriska here?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Er,,, </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: unfortunately, harry anderson, rose and kanaya aren’t on speaking terms with your aunt jane and uncle jake anymore.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: why not?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy sighs loudly through her nose. She hates talking about this shit.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cuz of the political situation</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what’s... a political situation?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Mother has been advising the human government that they should do their best to,,, uh,,, exclude trolls from the seats of power in all branches of public service and,,, uh,,, aunts rose and kanaya don’t like it because some of the legislation in the works could,,, erm,,, delegitimize their marriage,,,,,,,</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: um... i have no idea what any of that means, ha ha.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The adults exchange confused looks. It’s more than a little jarring that this five-year-old kid seems so well educated on the intricacies of xenophobic political policy. But then again, this is Jane’s son, they remind themselves.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Anyway,,, wh, why would you WANT vriska to be here,,,?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Why ruin a nice birthday party?</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: um duh...  cause she’s super fun!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: She’s not fun,,, she’s mean,,,,</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, to you, cause you’re a wuss.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: harry anderson egbert!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: don’t call other kids wusses!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey whats even wrong with being a wuss</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: harry my dude you need to unplug from toxic masculinity</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: from... what?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what have you been teaching this kid</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave, sometimes i really can’t believe this is the adult you chose to become.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its actually great isnt it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess so...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave ruffles Harry Anderson’s hair. It’s nice that Dave is so woke and great with kids, but that really does invite the question of why he and Jade don’t have any yet. There’s still something sad and wistful about Dave at the moment, as he pointedly avoids letting Jade take his hand while they’re led into the game room. Jade and Dave still laugh and trade barbs with each other like old friends, but there’s something disconcertingly sterile about it. John can’t help but think about the last time they were all together like this in Jane’s mansion, and the look on Karkat’s face when he stormed out of the foyer.</p>
    <p>Everyone settles down in the game room except Tavros, who stands by the door with his arms folded behind his back as if waiting to be ordered around. Harry Anderson is opening his gifts from Jade and Dave when a door upstairs slams open so hard it rattles all the crystal glasses arranged on the nearby table.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: You are such an unbelievable dunce, Jake English!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I can’t believe that I work so hard and have to come home to your feckless tomfoolery every day!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: My goodness...   </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What gives you the right to talk to me that way?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s side of the conversation is too far away to hear, but Gamzee’s unmistakable mush-mouthed voice floats down the hallway between the sharp edges of Jane’s shrieks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: And you’re not even... you’re not even proficient in bed anymore!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What is even the POINT of you if...  </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY hEy.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: cAlM yOuR tItS bAbY.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: SILENCE, CLOWN.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros stares at his feet, wearing a strained expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: It’s fine,,, my parents are kismeses after all,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane storms downstairs. Her guests are completely silent as the sound of her heels echoes down the hall. She steps into the room, her face still twisted in rage and disgust. The moment her eyes fall over her gathered friends, however, her expression changes like someone flipping a switch. She smiles, looking cordial and perfectly pleasant, fluttering her lashes like there’s nothing in the world more important to her than being an excellent host.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh. Hello everyone.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m sorry that I was not able to greet you at the door. I had some pre-appointed business to attend to.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I trust that Tavros led you all inside without trouble?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Yes ma’am,,,</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Good boy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane pats him on the head as she goes by, patronizingly, like you’d pet a dog. Or Gamzee.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Harry Anderson, my dear! </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: auntie jane!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane stoops down to her knees and throws her arms open. Harry Anderson bolts across the room and throws himself into her ample chest, nuzzling into her cheek as she laughs and ruffles his hair fondly. John turns his head aside so that no one sees the queasy face he’s making. Jane is, unfortunately, Harry Anderson’s favorite aunt. She gained his affection the same way she gains everyone’s affection: she fucking bought it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Look at you! You’ve gotten so big and strong since I last saw you!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i grew a whole three inches!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes, I can see that. You’re going to be quite the strapping young man before we know it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Since it’s your first milestone birthday, I’ve instructed my staff that you are to be spoiled like a little prince today!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Right now they’re finishing off your cake. It’s a recipe I invented just for you!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: gosh!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And I’ve got your present all wrapped up too!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s too big to keep in the house, however, so after cake and tea we’ll go see it in the backyard.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: you’re the best, auntie jane!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh no... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jane. please don’t tell me you commissioned one of those drone thingies for my son.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane rises to her feet, huffing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: And if I did, John, what would be the problem with that?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you saying that you don’t want to assure your son’s safety? In troubled times such as these, one can never be too careful.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: roxy, back me up here honey. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s no way you’d be ok with that, right?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy fiddles with one of her earrings and casts her gaze around the room, looking at every and any thing but her husband. Dave and Jade have also developed a profound interest in the patterns woven into the expensive carpet under their feet.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: er</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well i cant say im comfy with it but</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: janey means well john and itd be rude to just refuse a gift from my bestie like that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: besides ur just ASSUMIN she got harry anderson an imperial drone</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: she never said that was what it was</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: did u jane</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s tight-jawed silence confirms that she did, indeed, have a literal instrument of government oppression crafted for their son on the momentous occasion of his fifth birthday. John has to pinch his nose and practice controlled breathing to keep himself from getting mad for real. Getting in an argument right now would totally fuck up all his plans.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok. fine. you know what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t care.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: rly</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah! it’s... it’s whatever. i get it. jane’s just trying to show that she cares.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know I do adore little Harry Anderson.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what i DO care about, however, is that cake.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and not eating it, i mean.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nothing personal, jane, it’s just that i’m not the biggest fan of cakes.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: instead, i was wondering if maybe i could go visit the trophy room? you know, the one where jake keeps all the memorabilia from that dumb show he used to be on?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You mean “Poppin n’ Hoppin’ Pistol Lockin’ With Jake English”?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or do u mean “doing the charleston with notable social figureheads: stars versus enemies of the state with your host jake english”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that ones still running isnt it</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Unfortunately, yes.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, yeah... that’s DEFINITELY not the one i was talking about.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh! you probably mean “afternoon gilly gaffy amongst the common folk with your host j. gishy gun mcgee”</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, god! these all sound so bad.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean the one with dirk!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You mean the classic prime time program, “Rumble in da Pumpkin Patch”?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah! that one!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ew... why do you wanna go look at stuff from rumble in da pumpkin patch???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why not?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i dunno, it just seems kind of morbid with dirk dead and all, dont you think?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: also that show was REALLY gross</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i support jake in whatever he does but it was so... so.....</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sweaty</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno. i just feel like it was an important cultural milestone, and i missed it all by being mopey and depressed for like five years straight.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so what do you think, tavros? wanna show me all about your dad’s glory days?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros blinks up at John in surprise. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, I can take you there, John.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: NO!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... no, that’s fine. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’d like some time to get to know my nephew.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or, uh... cousin?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ecto brother?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: omg dave i just realized that when we get married thatll make john and rose siblings in law</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: which is funny since i guess john is technically already your father in law</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yup thats totally what our friendgroup needs </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: to be even more incestuous </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what does incestuous mean?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: it means that everyones rly good friends harry anderson</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just a dumb fancy word for bffs</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its a big hard word for grownups tho so feel free to unknow it now sweetie</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats totally it</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Um,,,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey tavros.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let’s go, buddy!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John sets a hand on Tavros’s back and pushes him out of the room. When they’re upstairs together, far enough away from the party, Tavros wrenches his hands together and asks:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Uncle john,,, what’s the real reason we’re up here,,,?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. i could see that you were getting uncomfortable.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t like being around big crowds like that, do you?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: ,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but you don’t like to be alone, either?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: ,,,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, not in this house at least. i wouldn’t want to be alone here either. it’s not a very nice place to live, is it?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I’m,,,, uh,,,, not sure i understand your meaning, uncle john.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: here, come with me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John grabs Tavros by his chubby wrist and begins dragging him around a corner, from one featureless white hallway into another.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: This isn’t the right way,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know. hey tavros, why don’t we just go to your room for a minute?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Oh,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros tugs on John’s hand and leads him back a few steps. With his free hand, he pushes a door open, revealing a large, tidy bedroom. Four-poster bed, perfectly arranged bookshelf, not a single toy out of place or on the floor; the room obviously belongs to a five-year-old judging by the colorful wallpaper and irreverent, clown-themed bedsheets, but there’s nothing in it to suggest individualized expression of a developing personality. </p>
    <p>Tavros sighs, his facial expression unchanging. He looks resigned. To life in general, as well as whatever it is he’s expecting from this particular situation. Wait... what <em>is</em> he expecting from this situation, having been led away to a secluded part of the house by an adult? What has he been taught to expect?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: tavros...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is everything ok? </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: ,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Yes, uncle john,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Why do you ask?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you just seem...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sad?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I feel okay,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: It is a happy day, after all,,, it’s harry anderson’s birthday,,, </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: There is good reason to be happy,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but what about YOU.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you ACTUALLY happy about it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: about... everything going on here?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I suppose,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: My mother tends to get displeased when i’m unhappy, so,,, </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sigh.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John walks a little further into the room, inspecting the surroundings. He can hardly find a single fault. Not a wrinkle in the sheets, nor a...  John looks down. He takes a step back to set his foot on the part of the floor he just stepped on. He lifts it again, with some tacky resistance tugging at the sole of his shoe. The floor is sticky here, like the floor of a movie theater. He bends down to touch it, and give it a sniff. Just as he thought. Faygo. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: tavros... does gamzee ever come into your room?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Possibly,,,?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: He so often is found to be in,,, so many places,,, </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John glances under the bed, then sees it. A half-finished bottle of Faygo.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: isn’t that his faygo there??</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Oh,,, my, no,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Please, uncle john,,, don’t tell my mother,,, </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: tell her what??</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: The faygo is mine,,, my uncle gives it to me sometimes,,, my mother strictly forbids it, of course,,,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John nervously ponders this response, and everything about the boy’s life it could be implying. He takes a deep breath, and becomes very serious. He places a hand on Tavros’ shoulder, and looks him directly in the eye.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: tavros, listen to me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you... getting... bad touched by your uncle gamzee?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros seems taken aback by the question. Then appears thoughtful.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Oh,,, uh,,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: No?? </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: But, yes,,, i can gather how you might draw that conclusion,,, </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you can?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: It just seems like a thing that would eventually happen to me, does it not?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A look of sadness washes over John’s face. A sadness deeper than either kind he could summon for the previous two funerals he’s attended.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: what would make you say that?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Well, i think,,, </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: For the same reason that led you yourself to wonder, uncle john?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: He is a very,,, very bad clown uncle,,, but i think i am not allowed to say or think such a thing,,,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why not?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Because,,, uncle gamzee has undertaken his redemption arc,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: With a spirit of great sincerity, i’ve been told,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: So,,,,, the truth is, no matter how i may feel about him,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Mother tells me that he is not actually bad,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: And therefore,,, anything he does cannot truly be considered bad either,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Otherwise, we are not respecting his repentance,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Or the others he has saved,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros sighs again. John makes no effort to disguise his look of grave disapproval and sorrow. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I don’t want you to worry,,, too much, though,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: His occasional sojourns in my room are not of any especially ill intent,,, i don’t think,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: He has told me in confidence that his intention is to train me,,,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: TRAIN you???</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Yes,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: In matters of combat,,, philosophy,,, life,,, love,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I suppose to behave the way a mentor does, as he sees it,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Anger wells up in John anew. He gets to his feet in a flurry—a literal one. A gust of wind whisks through the room, clattering open the closet door and rustling a perfectly arranged stack of papers off the desk. They flutter through the room like dead leaves caught in an autumn storm. Soon the room is howling with his sustained winds.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s IT!!!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: tavros, start packing right now.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Packing,,,?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. one bag with some of your clothes, your favorite toys and books, that kind of thing. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I don’t understand,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: tavros. i have to get you out of here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: *NOW*.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Uh,,, what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m going to take you away so that you can live with me, harry anderson, and your aunt roxy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you wouldn’t have to live here anymore. no more being alone all the time. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no more weird troll maids, or listening to your parents fight...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and no more “uncle” fucking GAMZEE.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: That does sound jolly good uncle john,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then what are you waiting for? start packing!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Well,,, i would, except that we can’t go out without tripping the security,,,</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Mother has taken great precautions to make sure i never,,,,,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: don’t worry, kid. i came prepared.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John produces his screwdriver and a length of wire from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: we’re leaving through that window, one way or another.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros takes in a sharp breath before spinning on his heel and stumbling toward his closet. John catches the ghost of a smile on his face before he turns and that’s all it takes to turn the pounding of his heart from terrified to thrilled. Yes, what he’s about to do will probably send shock waves through their already fragmented friend group. But Jane’s the one who started it. She brought this on herself.</p>
    <p>John starts opening the window, using all the tricks he’s memorized from tutorials on the deep web to bypass the security bolt. He whistles to himself, thinking about how happy Tavros is going to be with him, Roxy, and Harry Anderson. Jane barely even seems to like the kid. But Jake does. Jake loves him, even though he was totally trapped into this unhappy relationship because of the pregnancy. So it seems to John the only way to save Jake from this unspeakable prison is to subtract the only thing he cares about. </p>
    <p>Roxy will be mad at first, but John is certain that she’ll... she’ll what? Acquiesce? Is that really what he wants? He considers with a sense of guilt how exhilarating it would it be if she finally fought him on something. John starts laughing to himself when the window pops open suddenly. No alarm goes off. The deep web was right. </p>
    <p>Fresh summer air rushes in and fills John’s lungs. His head swims with the giddy, high feeling of being on the verge of getting away with some shit. Wow, is this why people commit crimes? It feels so good. He can’t wait to tell Terezi that he’s done something so BOLD and 1LL3G4L. He starts laughing louder. Tavros is laughing too, quiet and cautious at first, but picking up steam as he begins to taste the sort of freedom he never allowed himself to imagine.</p>
    <p>John turns, shocked to see Jade standing in the bedroom doorway. She looks like a shadow with her dark hair hiding her face. John can’t tell what kind of expression she’s making under there. She speaks softly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: john...... what are you doing?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nothing!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: just, uh... fixing this damn broken window, is all.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She twitches her dog-ears and raises her face. Her mouth is a neutral line, but her eyes are burning furiously.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i heard everything</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The two of them stare at each other for a long time. John isn’t sure how he’s supposed to read this moment. He used to know Jade better than he knew anyone, but in recent years she’s passed him by, just like the rest of the world. Tavros is cowering in his closet, fiddling with the strap on his backpack.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, what are you going to do?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: tell jane?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade flinches like she’s been hit. She flicks her tail, breaks eye contact.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: john... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i wouldnt do that to you</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: youd probably end up on jakes stupid execution dance off show</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then are you gonna help me?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She shakes her head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i cant do that either</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you know that this is just going to make everything worse right???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jade, i don’t know where you’ve been these past few years, but i don’t think things CAN get any worse!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, even today, jane was up here hollering at jake about how his dick doesn’t work right when she KNEW we were all waiting for them downstairs!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i know... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but all youre going to do by kidnapping him is piss everyone off</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Excuse me dearest aunt but,,, is it kidnapping if i badly would like to go?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: see!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: siiiiiigh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i understand where youre coming from but i dont think youve actually thought this through</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yes i have, because i’ve been planning it for years.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know that i’ve been pretty, um... flakey in the past? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but this is really important. i know what i’m doing.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade sighs in frustration and pushes back her bangs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: john, jane is one of the most POWERFUL people on the ENTIRE PLANET!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: do you REALLY think that you can keep him away from her if she wants to get him back???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im sorry but you just dont know them like i do</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if you know them so well, jade...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then you know why i have to do this.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im on your side here! i know that jane hasnt been the best parent... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but stealing somebodys child???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: there has to be another way :/</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A gust of wind blasts in through the window and blows back Jade’s hair, leaving it all mussed over her shoulders. John points at her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: if there was another way we would have found it by now!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but there isn’t one, because everyone’s been all... brainwashed by marriage, or whatever the hell happened over the last few years that made things be this way!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s like everyone just talks past each other all the time!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: john... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m the only one who ever seems to realize that something... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that something’s WRONG!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I would really be chuffed if the two of you,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even you, jade!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re not listening to me right now!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: ,,,would stop quarreling and listen to me for a spell,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s why karkat left!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because you didn’t listen to him!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: just like you don’t listen to dave!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what the fuck, john?!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: this isnt about me and dave</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yes it is!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, not directly, but cosmically, yeah it is!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: cosmically?????</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you KNEW that dave and karkat were in love with each other, but you went ahead and totally messed with their relationship anyway!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wh... what!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jade, don’t pretend you have no idea what happened.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i.... i cant believe.....</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: john thats such a low blow!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you dont know the first thing about me and daves relationship!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know more than you think i do!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know that you pressured them into that whole relationship. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know that they both hated it, and only went along with it because they care about you and felt obligated! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and jade, i love you, but honestly, how does that make you any different than jane?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im nothing like her!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, you’re nothing like the jade i used to know either!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The wind in the room picks up. It skates against the walls, dislodges books from the shelf, gets under the bedsheets and balloons them off the mattress.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: the jade i used to know was caring and selfless! all you ever wanted was for your friends to be safe!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you weren’t this... this SELFISH!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh? is that what this is about john??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you dont like it now that im not some helpless princess in a tower anymore???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you dont like that im doing things for MYSELF now?????</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what the hell are you talking about?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: seriously, jade... i don’t even know who you are anymore!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i can certainly say the same for you right now!!!!!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Aunt jade,,, uncle john,,, you should really, uh,,,,,,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John and Jade stop. There is another shadow cast in the doorway. A much darker one. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She says in a sugar-sweet voice.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: But what the FUCK is going on in here?!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Oh,,, no,,,,,</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: jane!! haha!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: we were just</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Hollering at each other so loudly that everyone in the darned house can hear you?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, like you’re one to talk.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: John, I know that we have not been as close in recent years as we were in the past, but I would like to think that at the very least our familial relationship would make it so that you felt you could talk to me face to face if you think that my method of parenting is insufficient.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you sure?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you really want to know what i think?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh no........</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Please, John. Illuminate me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A lash of wind whips from window to door and down the hall in time to meet the rest of the partygoers, now including Jake Crocker himself. They’ve all come upstairs to investigate the noise. Tavros flinches when a book slams against the closet door, two inches from his face. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wats going on</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know, jane. i feel like if i really speak my mind here, it might be dangerous.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how do i know you won’t have the secret police come and arrest me in the night?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s where this is all going, right?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: your whole... thing with the trolls?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: If you have something to say, then say it plainly, John.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: fine.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think that you had bad intentions to start out with, jane.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: in fact, i think that you probably honestly thought that you were doing what was best for the world.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’ve always been a perfectionist, right? but over the last few years you’ve morphed into a complete control freak!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and it all started with your relationship with jake.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you forced him into a relationship when dirk’s corpse wasn’t even cold!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: (Er i would like to point out... )</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m sorry, but you’re calling me a control freak? Dirk was the control freak.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: After he died, I distinctly remember loosening up, in fact!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I let go! I was actually RELIEVED to hear he died!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: uhh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: janey wut</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Okay, that was a misleading statement. What I really meant was—</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jane, you’re missing the point!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: (...that jane and i were involved in a romantic dalliance at the time of his death...)</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dirk is dead. this isn’t about him anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re the one cheering the government along as it marches toward genocide!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: John, I hardly think you’re qualified to opine on the nuances of the current political situation, thank you very much. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ha! is that how you talk to your husband too?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: He’s actually, at the moment, my kismesis. And if Jake didn’t want any of this, he shouldn’t have knocked me up.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Hello chaps i am right here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah, like that was suuuch an accident.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: can you honestly say that he wanted any of this!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The wind rises with the pitch of John’s yelling, turning Tavros’s bedroom into a miniature tempest. The gale upends the bookshelf, snaps open the toy box, and sends all the debris spinning in every direction, smashing against the walls and bedposts. John doesn’t seem to notice, encased in his own cyclonic armor. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh my god i am so sick of all this domestic relationship shit every fucking day</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can we talk about something else for once</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah dave, i’m sick of it too!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s my point!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: then john can you just</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stop all this windy shit at least </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no! i can’t!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can’t stop, because i’m not the problem!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you saying that I’m the problem? That’s extremely reductive.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, yeah, there are lots of problems!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i’ve got to say, jane, you kind of ARE the problem?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: a lot of this awful garbage revolves around you!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re the one always selling everybody on gamzee’s “redemption arc,” which is TOTAL BULLSHIT!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: putting him on billboards, organizing “redemption rallies,” and, and...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: John, the people need something to believe in, if we are to live in an organized society. You simply wouldn’t understand.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and letting him... letting him sleep in your and jake’s bed! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and feeding him that... that weird MILK all the time!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: UGH!!!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Hey! My relationship with my loyal auspistice is none of your business, let alone who it is I decide to share a bed with. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: isn’t it?! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you sure go out of your way to shove it in everyone’s face!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: John, that is just uncalled for.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s bullshit, jane!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: all!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: BULLSHIT!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The wind surges again. The window bangs open so hard that it smashes against the pane, sending shards of glass whipping through the storm. Everyone cowers from the rain of sharp projectiles. John catches what he’s doing when he sees how terrified the kids look. He shuts his eyes and digs his fingernails into his palms, doing everything in his power to calm himself down.</p>
    <p>When he opens his eyes again, the room is completely destroyed. Tavros is all the way in his closet, clinging white-knuckled to the edge of the door. Everyone else is clustered around the doorway. Jade stares at John with a dark expression. After a beat of silence, Harry Anderson starts crying.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... i... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy won’t meet his eyes. Dave won’t either. John turns to Tavros, opens his mouth to apologize, but the kid just ducks deeper into the closet, trembling.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sor—</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: No one wants to hear it, John.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John staggers back a few steps, toward the broken window. His vision is blurring beneath a pool of angry tears that he can’t hold back anymore. He wipes his face with both hands, all sloppy and clumsy, the way he used to cry when he was a kid. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he’s jumped through the open window. The sky outside is dark.</p>
    <p>He flies higher and higher, high enough that the air starts to get thin and chilly. Up here, the Human Kingdom looks so small. He can see the sun setting over the curvature of the Earth, a brilliant arc of orange and red. It’s like looking down at a little toy city, a ship in a bottle. That’s what the world feels like now: a tiny, fake model planet living inside a bubble. Look too hard, and the illusion cracks around the edges. Like the black hole in John’s anime dreams. There’s a trembling in his hands that he hasn’t felt in years. He looks up at the glimmering stratosphere and imagines piercing through it. Would that pop the bubble, he wonders? Or would he go hurtling through space, forever?</p>
    <p>He’s contemplating that—just flying up as far as he can, until he flies into the sun or stops existing or whatever—until he realizes that his phone is buzzing in his pocket. He takes it out, almost drops it because of how cold his hands are. His breath is frosting in the air as he looks at the screen. The color of the text sends a jolt through his blood. With shaking fingers, he answers the text.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU TH3R3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 R34LLY N33D TO T4LK TO SOM3ON3 R1GHT NOW</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. me too.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "24": |-
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            24
          </h3>
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    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-lg" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the timelines are interacting again.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ooh do you hear anything interesting</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: don’t be s0 n0sy aradia.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia throws her legs over the edge of the ancient meteor facility and kicks them out into open space. Far below her feet, the meteor is wildly overgrown. It landed here millions of years ago, after its fateful three-year journey when it hosted several trolls and humans as they had a variety of critical coming-of-age experiences. It will stay here for millions more years, where it will remain indefinitely on a barren, desolate Earth C, waiting to host a single cherub child, chained to its bedroom. But for now, it hosts these three. </p>
    <p>Dead-Jade, whose body also happens to be hosting a cherub at the moment, is doing the same thing she does every day: sitting with her legs crossed and her eyes closed, using her still-teenage body to scry into the abyss. The light from the outer rim of the stratosphere casts her face in powdery blue light. It’s certainly a more becoming avatar for Calliope, most would find. The Calliope who Roxy calls a friend, in her moments of greatest self-reproach, would die for a body like this. The version of Calliope who’s been dead for eons, however, waiting for exactly this moment in history to reinstate her corporeal presence, couldn’t care less about her host’s appearance. It is simply serving as a functional vessel for the crucial role she now must play. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: what would you classify as interesting?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh the usual</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: death... romance...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: astounding feats of destruction and chaos</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: tell us whats happening in the dream bubbles oh great muse :)</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: please d0n’t.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: very well.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: let’s see.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4H4H4 1 TH1NK 1M DY1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh no!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what happened?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOTH1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS TH3 PROBL3M</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1V3 B33N OUT H3R3 FOR SO LONG 1 C4NT 3V3N R3M3MB3R HOW MUCH T1M3 H4S P4SS3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M OUT OF SUPPL13S 4ND 1 H4V3 NO 1D34 WH3R3 1 4M</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 1M ST4RT1NG TO TH1NK SOM3 R3LLY CR4ZY TH1NGS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L1K3 M4YB3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: none of it’s real?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOW D1D YOU KNOW </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been thinking the same thing too recently.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: lots of crazy, crazy things.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and keeping them to myself is making me FEEL crazy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so the thoughts just get... crazier.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: I C4NT R3M3MB3R TH3 SOUND OF 4NYON3S VOIC3 BUT MY OWN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, your voice is pretty unforgettable.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU N3GG1NG M3 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um. maybe?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PR3TTY H4LF 4SS3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1M FL4TT3R3D YOU TH1NK MY VO1C3 1S 4DOR4BL3 </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i was obviously implying that your voice was annoying!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: come ON.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 GOT TH4T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT S1NC3 1T W4S 4 L4M3 N3G, YOU W3R3 4CTU4LLY SUGG3ST1NG TH3 OPPOS1T3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH1CH M34NS YOU TH1NK 1TS CUT3, R1GHT &gt;;]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry your honor, but the defense would like to plead the right to, um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: stop talking about this.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: F1RST OF 4LL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4S 1V3 4LR34DY 3XPL41N3D ON NUM3ROUS OCC4S1ONS </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: “D3F3NS3” 1SNT 4 TH1NG 1N MY CULTUR3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 3X4CTLY WH1CH C4NDY 4SS3D L3G4L TR4D1T1ON 4R3 YOU TRY1NG TO R3F3R3NC3 H3R3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, i don’t know? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just said a thing that sounded kinda lawyery. you know, as like, a joke?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you do remember jokes still, terezi? or did you forget those too...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M JUST CUR1OUS 4BOUT TH3 P4TH3T1C4LLY SOFT L3G4L TR4D1T1ONS OF YOUR OLD PL4N3T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ON3 C4N 4T L34ST HOP3 YOUR N3W PL4N3T H4S F1GUR3D OUT 4 JUD1C14L SYST3M TH4T H4S MOR3 T33TH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i think earth c has been getting there, lately.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU H4V3 NO 1D34 HOW MUCH TH1S W4RMS MY PUMP B1SCU1T TO H34R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, i’m glad at least YOU’RE getting a kick out of it. </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PL34S3 JOHN, 1 DONT H4V3 MUCH 4NYMOR3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST L3T M3 H4V3 TH1S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: for someone who’s suffering so much, you sure seem like you’re still full of piss and vinegar out there.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you SURE you’re dying?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SUR3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia leans over and sticks her nose in dead-Jade’s face. She watches how her eyebrows wrinkle at the center, just a little bit. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: so</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what do you see</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: nothing i would describe as interesting.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: please stop distracting me.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok if thats what you really want</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: aradia c0uld y0u st0p fucking b0thering her.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: what are we even d0ing here, serving as like, </p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: the attendants f0r this super ancient and wise g0ddess, 0r whatever the fuck she is...  </p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: if all y0u’re g0nna d0 is get in her face and hassle her ab0ut whatever c00l shit is g0ing 0n in her visi0ns.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok im sorry im just really curious!</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: no sign of her yet?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, seriously. it’s been years here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when are you going to give up and accept that she’s probably... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PROB4BLY WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dead.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, vriska’s dead, and none of us are going to see or hear from her ever again.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not even you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and you know what i think?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think that even if you DID find vriska, it wouldn’t matter!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because i don’t think she even deserves your friendship anymore.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if she cared about you as much as you care about her, she wouldn’t have fucked off like this forever.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: driving you crazy with doubt and uncertainty, making you chase her through infinite nothingness until you almost starve to death...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she would have at least given you the courtesy of closure!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4HA</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS NOT WH4T VR1SK4 1S L1K3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. i guess not.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so why are you still trying so hard?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia stretches her arms over her head and yawns. She launches from her perch at the edge of the meteor facility with a little somersault, coasting through the air so that she’s level with Sollux’s face. She gives one of his horns a light tap, to affirm her proximity.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: she talks in five word sentences so even im still in the dark about what it is shes really trying to accomplish</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: from what ive pieced together she needs to stay in these trances or were all doomed</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: aradia, being d00med is all i used t0 ever talk ab0ut.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: even i’ve chilled 0ut 0n all that shit n0w.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: so you dont believe her?</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: ehhh, shrug.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: all i’m d0ing here is keeping y0u c0mpany. like usual.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the work is important.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: see?</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: 0k, the least she c0uld d0 is tell us WHY we’re all d00med.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: doomed is not a word i would use to describe the condition of those on this world.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: even if my work is unsuccessful, the stakes for everyone here have nothing to do with the issue of mortality.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: to frame the matter that way would be misleading. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: to the extent that it is my naturally endowed duty to defend the innocent from wanton acts of destruction, from degradation and dissolution,</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is also my duty to tell the truth to those i protect.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and the simplest statement of truth for all of you to know is this:</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: we are the lucky ones.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope lets out a long, thin sigh from between the teeth of Jade’s corpse. It’s more for effect than anything, as corpses don’t actually need to breathe.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: we are the ones fortunate enough to live in a reality that is beyond the influence of the prince.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: wh0 the fuck is the prince?</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1V3 N3V3R TOLD 4NYON3 TH1S B3FOR3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT 4NYON3 WHO C4R3D 3NOUGH TO L1ST3N 4T L34ST</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT FOR 4 LONG T1M3 1V3 F3LT L1K3 TH3R3S SOM3TH1NG WRONG W1TH M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L1K3 1M M1SS1NG SOM3TH1NG 1MPORT4NT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 TH1NG TH4T 3V3RYON3 3LS3 H4S TH4T 4LLOWS TH3M TO B3 S4T1SF13D W1TH TH3 W4Y TH1NGS 4R3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L1K3 TH3R3S 4 HUG3 VO1D 1NS1D3 MY H34RT 4ND 1LL N3V3R H4V3 WH4T 1 N33D TO B3 H4PPY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT BY MYS3LF 4T L34ST</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DO3S TH4T SOUND STUP1D?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like that too.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve felt that way for years. like... maybe i died?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or maybe everyone died back in the medium and i’m the only one who realizes it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like i’m that kid in the movie where bruce willis is dead as a surprise at the end.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: except ghost john crawled back inside my skin and he’s wearing it like a halloween costume.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and that’s why there’s a huge hole inside me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe that’s why it feels like you’re the only person who understands me anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because we’ve both got big, howling ghost holes inside of us.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and talking to each other makes it feel less lonely.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s what we did, terezi. we filled each other’s holes.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R3R34D WH4T YOU JUST WROT3 DUMP4SS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh. terezi, get your mind out of the gutter!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought we were having a serious moment here.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4M S3R1OUS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 TH1NK TH1S 1S TH3 3ND FOR M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M D1ZZY 4ND S1CK 4ND 1 C4NT SM3LL STR41GHT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 F33L L1K3 1 COULD JUST L4Y DOWN 1N TH1S 3NDL3SS S34 OF NOTH1NG 4ND JUST GO TO SLEEP</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4T TH1S PO1NT 1T WOULD 4LMOST B3 4 R3L13F 1F 1 D1DNT W4K3 UP</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t have to do that terezi.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you could just come home.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: please. please come home.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3N WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: umm, i dunno. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we hang out and stuff?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN YOU ST1LL DONT G3T 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 34RTH C 1S *NOT* MY HOM3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you really miss alternia that bad?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 D1D FOR 4 LONG T1M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: MOR3 TH4N K4RK4T 4ND K4N4Y4 D1D 4T L34ST</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1 H4V3 NO 1D34 4NYMOR3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4LT3RN14, VR1SK4, SGRUB</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SO CONFUS3D 4BOUT WH4T 1 W4NT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UGH, 1 THOUGHT TH4T NOT K1LL1NG H3R WOULD M4K3 M3 F33L B3TT3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1NST34D 1TS L1K3 1 R3TCONN3D 4 HUG3 CHUNK OUT OF MY SOUL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 3R4S3D 4N 4CT1ON OF R3GR3T 4ND GR13F...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND JUST TURN3D 1T 1NTO SOM3TH1NG 1 C4NT STOP CH4S1NG 4FT3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: M4YB3 WH4T 1 D1D W4S N3CESS4RY TO S4V3 3V3RYON3 3LS3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1T SUR3 D1DNT S4VE M3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so maybe that means...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the only thing left to do is let her go?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: I C4NT JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOT 3V3N WH1L3 1M ON D34THS DOOR, 4PP4R3NTLY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 TH1NK 1TS T1M3 FOR M3 TO GO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: GOODBY3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, don’t go!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: please, please don’t do this!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if you just go off and die, and i never hear from you again...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think i can handle that!!!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: STOP TH1S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR3 3MB4R4SS1NG BOTH OF US</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, if you had no intent of ever coming home... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why did you even bother calling me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you really telling me that you didn’t want me to talk you out of it???</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 R34LLY D1DNT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then what DID you want?!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L3TS S4Y...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 JUST W4NT3D TO G1V3 YOU TH3 COURT3SY OF CLOSUR3</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dead-Jade’s eyes slowly flutter open. She gets to her feet and brushes down her skirt.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: are you done working for the day</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the work is never finished.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: not until i am able to deal with the prince myself.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: and when will that be</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The meteor is passing beyond the fall of night. Dead-Jade, standing half in light, half in darkness, looks up at the sky. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: not soon enough.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "25": |-
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            25
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SWIFER</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SWIFER CAN YOU...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat winces as the ground above him shakes and a scattering of dirt and debris rains down from the roof of the cave. His fledgling rebellion has found cover in the spiderweb network of tunnels running to and from the troll capital originally built to accommodate the transit of incestuous slurry from the boonies to the Mother Grub. Though technically regarded as a critical infrastructure project, the caves have never been used or appropriately surveyed by the world government. Back when all were on better terms, Jane was gracious enough to believe the maps Kanaya handed over were anything approaching accurate. With the tunnel entrances at the brood pit sealed, the rebellion was safe for now. But the presidential drones were testing the grounds relentlessly: closer and closer every day now.</p>
    <p>It’s not the dirt that’s bothering him. Dirt is something you get used to, living hand-to-mouth inside a cave. It’s that persistent fucking leak directly above his desk that is driving him to distraction.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SWIFER!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Swifer Eggmop pokes her head into the chamber.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Aye aye Commander! What’s up?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat pinches the bridge of his nose.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FOR THE LAST TIME, DON’T CALL ME THAT.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Why not, Commander? Yer the Commander, ain’t you?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO, I AM NOT THE “COMMANDER.”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DID I EVER ASK TO BE IN CHARGE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DID I EVER ACCEPT AN OFFICIAL APPOINTMENT FROM SOME OSTENTATIOUS MILITARY BOARD?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HAVE I EVER SUCCESSFULLY LED A CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE INCREASINGLY OPPRESSIVE REGIME THAT WE SUFFER UNDER ON A DAILY BASIS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS IS CATEGORICALLY AND CATASTROPHICALLY: FUCK. NO.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Well gee, Commander. I think it’s more of a symbolic title, representin’ how much faith everyone has in you.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT FUCKING FAITH?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AS JUST DISCUSSED I HAVEN’T DONE A DAMN THING TO EARN ANYONE’S FAITH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO FAR ALL THIS “TROLL REBELLION” HAS AMOUNTED TO IS A WHOLE LOT OF DICK ALL, WITH AN ADDITIONAL SIDE SERVING OF JACK SQUAT, FOLLOWED UP BY A FINAL COURSE OF GETTING TO WATCH OUR TOP ANALYST, CLIPER BORDEN, BEING FORCED TO DANCE TO AVOID LIFE IMPRISONMENT IN A LABOR CAMP ON LIVE TELEVISION AND MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF HIMSELF.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat gestures toward the display screen showing a commercial for the next episode of <em>Doing the Charleston with Notable Social Figureheads: Stars Versus Enemies of the State, with Your Host Jake English.</em> Swifer’s taciturn broodmate Cliper is indeed making an absolute fool of himself in the recap from the previous week’s show, failing to keep time with the jaunty beat and struggling to knock his knees together with the required vigor. The fact that he is shackled at the wrists doesn’t seem to be helping.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Poor Cliper.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: He could record a stat like nobody’s business but no one ever taught the boy how to dance.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: If only we knew, this all coulda been avoided.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DANCE IF HE DOESN’T WANT TO.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT SWIFER.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Oh.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT WHAT’S THE POINT IF I CAN’T EVEN SAVE ONE OF MY LIEUTENANTS FROM MORTIFYING PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT FOLLOWED BY A LIFETIME OF HARD LABOR IN THE CAKE MILLS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF I CAN’T PROTECT MEMBERS OF THE SO-CALLED RESISTANCE FROM THE FICKLE AND CRUEL VAGARIES OF JANE’S INSANE, PASTRY-BASED SHADOW DICTATORSHIP, HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT THE COMMON PEOPLE?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Swifer frowns and tugs at the kerchief around her neck.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Golly. Look Commander. That’s a big question that I think you gotta take up with someone more in the know than myself.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: I just swif the floors.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, YEAH. RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SPEAKING OF WHICH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE LEAK IN THE CEILING?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat throws both hands in the air melodramatically. A drop of stale water plops off one of his nubby little horns.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU KNOW, RIGHT ABOVE THE PLACE WHERE WE KEEP ALL OF OUR FRAGILE LOGISTICS EQUIPMENT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO FIX THAT A FUCKING WEEK AGO?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Well sir you told me to “take care of it” and I sure as heck took care of it!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THEN WHY IS IT STILL LEAKING?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Oh. By “fix” you meant that you wanted me to plug the crack!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK I MEANT?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: I thought you meant for me to mop up the water that had gathered...  </p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: And then use that water to swif the bejeebus out of the floors.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Which is, by all accounts, what I did.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat gapes at her, open-mouthed. She grins back, unaware of any mistake on her part. The only thing he can do is bury his face in his palms.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU KNOW WHAT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M GOING TO GET SOME FRESH AIR.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BY THE TIME I GET BACK I EXPECT THE HOLE IN THE CEILING TO BE “““SWIFED””” THE FUCK CLOSED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR AT THE VERY LEAST</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: PUT A FUCKING BUCKET UNDER THE LEAK OR SOMETHING.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Sir! Oh my gosh! A bucket? Sh-should we be seen...  </p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Consortin’ with a bucket? </p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: *Together*??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GROW THE FUCK UP, EGGMOP.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He stalks past his blushing assistant with a belabored sigh. Karkat has lived with humans for so long that he’s grown used to seeing buckets regularly defiled. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes Jade has used more buckets to grow snap peas in her living room than any troll has used for the purposes of reproduction in the entire history of Earth C. The bucket taboo is largely emblematic at this point. An empty signifier for an endangered culture.</p>
    <p>As he stomps through the winding tunnels, thinking very hard about this incredibly tragic thing, his speaker crab crackles to life.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Was A Lot</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH SHIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE STILL ON THE LINE.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: We Hadnt Finished Our Conversation About The Clandestine Transportation Of The Mother Grub</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Which I Hope You Realize Is Still An Operation Of Grave Importance At Least On Par With The Terrible Threat Of The Leak In Your Office </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SORRY. I KIND OF HAVE A LOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Can See That</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Please Do Not Be So Hard On Swifer She Really Does Try Her Best</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH. I KNOW.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TO BE HONEST THAT WASN’T ABOUT SWIFER AT ALL. OR EVEN ABOUT THE LEAK.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes Karkat That Was Obvious</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose And I Have Been Following The Dance Off Tribunals Very Closely This Month</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Your Lieutenant Does Not Have A Chance</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But Do Not Let It Weigh Heavily On You</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Everyone Who Joins The Rebellion Knows That Being Exiled To The Cake Mills Is A Very Real Possibility If They Are Caught</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Includes You Karkat</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If You Bear The Responsibility For The Lives Of Every Member Of The Rebellion Youll Crack Under The Stress</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And As Much As You Are Loath To Admit It</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Are The Face Of This Movement</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I HATE IT, BUT YOU’RE RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK YOU, YOU’RE ALWAYS RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: As My Wife Likes To Tell Me Often</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH. FUCK HER, SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT TOO.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOW THE HELL DO YOU TWO TOLERATE EACH OTHER?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Quite Thoroughly Enthusiastically And Often</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW. UGH. OK. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S ENOUGH OF YOU FOR TODAY.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh I Am Sorry I Did Not Mean To Rub My Interspecies Happiness In Your Face I Understand That Its A Sore Subject</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE ONLY THING THAT’S SORE IS MY EAVESDROP FUNNELS FROM LISTENING TO YOUR ENDLESS MOTHERING.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Karkat I Am Sure That If You Were To Just </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Call Dave And Ask Him To Join You...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW, IS THAT ANOTHER CAVE-IN I HEAR HAPPENING SUDDENLY ALL AROUND ME?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Would Be At Your Side Instantly</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: KANAYA WE’RE BEING OVERRUN BY IMPERIAL DRONES! IT’S HORRIBLE! THERE’S DEATH AND FIRE EVERYWHERE, AND ALSO I CAN’T HEAR A FUCKING WORD YOU’RE SAYING, SO IF YOU WERE TO EVER TO ATTEMPT TO REFERENCE THIS CONVERSATION IN THE FUTURE I WOULD HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO IT WOULD PROBABLY BE BEST FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED IF YOU’D DROP THE SUBJECT AND NEVER MENTION IT AGAIN!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Okay Karkat Have A Good Walk Ill Talk To You About The Mother Grub Tomorrow</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Goodbye And Take Care</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH. YEAH. YOU TAKE CARE TOO. TALK TO YOU TOMORROW.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat makes extra-triple sure that he’s actually hung up on Kanaya for real this time, by fiddling with the tiny claw on his speaker crab until it’s in the off position. The action of tuning his outdated wristwatch is interrupted by another earthquake rumbling around him. This one sounds different, however. He knows the sound of a drone strike like the back of his hand by now. It’s a low, creeping bellow that pulses through the ground in waves. This sounds more like an impact that left a crater. The last time something struck the planet that hard, it was Jade’s creepy undead corpse.</p>
    <p>Karkat runs for the nearest exit and cautiously pokes his head out into the clearing above. There’s a figure in the smoke: her stumbling silhouette includes an unmistakable pair of horns. She takes two steps out of her crater before falling flat on her face again. Karkat runs to help her, putting her arm over his shoulders and dragging her out of the dust cloud from the impact.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MEENAH??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Meenah blinks up at him with a pair of eyes that seem different to him somehow, but he can’t put his finger on it. He has to admit, it’s been a long time since he saw her. She seems singed, woozy, but mostly undamaged.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: woah shouty mcnubs that you</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UH, THAT’S STILL NOT MY NAME. BUT YEAH.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nice</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FIGHTING LORD ENGLISH?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DID THAT WORK OUT OR... WHAT?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nah it was a total wash</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat continues inspecting her without much concern for coming across as weird. He knows something’s off about her, he just can’t figure out what. Then a reflective gleam catches his eye. A gold ring on her finger. He glances back up to look in her eyes. They aren’t blank, like all the other fallen ghosts’ eyes are.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WAIT A MINUTE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALIVE???</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: yeah bitch</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: im back 38)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT RING?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WAIT, YOU DIDN’T...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MEENAH, DID YOU ROB CALLIOPE?!</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: who</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE GIRL WITH THE HIDEOUS GREEN SKULL FOR A HEAD.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WAS HER RING. I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION SHE NEEDED THAT TO LIVE!</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: oh</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nah man</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: its not hers i got it from some other total sucker</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHO???</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: dont matter</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: complete bonehead chump you aint be hearin from again</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MEENAH, ARE YOU FUCKING LYING TO ME.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nubs i wouldnt do that to you</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: not after all this time</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: ya girls fine this shits my own damn ring</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: capisces? </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat side-eyes the revived heiress, flinching only slightly at that last pun, before offering a reluctant nod. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: what are you up to?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WELL...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S LIKE, A WHOLE FUCKING EXPLANATION.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: splain awave nubby</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M SORT OF IN THE MIDDLE OF STAGING A WIDE SCALE GRASSROOTS REBELLION AGAINST AN INCREASINGLY AUTHORITARIAN GLOBAL HEGEMONY THAT IS OPPRESSING OUR PEOPLE.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: hmm</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Meenah leans in, assessing Karkat with a rapacious, shark-toothed grin. It seems that whatever she’s seeing in this older, battle-hardened version of Karkat impresses her. She starts laughing, big and bright. She slaps him so hard on the shoulder that he nearly falls down.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ACK.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: now thats what im TALKIN about</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: yeah i could use a new seacond in command</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ACTUALLY, YOU’D BE *MY* SECOND IN COMMAND.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO OFFENSE OR ANYTHING, BUT MY FACE IS ALREADY ON ALL THE POSTERS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE THE MOST CONFIDENCE IN YOUR COMMAND ABILITIES CONSIDERING THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU, YOU WERE TALKING BIG ABOUT HOW YOU WERE GOING TO TAKE DOWN LORD ENGLISH, AND NOW YOU’RE EATING DIRT ON OUR SHITTY NEW PLANET LOOKING PRETTY FUCKING DEFEATED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT TO BE HONEST, I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: oh yea no problem</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: ill be your fuckin second guy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU WILL?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: flip yes</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: yeah dude just point me at where the actions at i dont even give a fuck</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: water the orders boss </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK THIS IS LIKE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT EVEN SURE HOW TO SAY THIS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M ACTUALLY REALLY FLATTERED, AND KIND OF SINCERELY HONORED THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WANT TO FOLLOW ME?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S LIKE, COMPLETELY NOT AT ALL WHAT I... </p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: youre ruining it dude</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK. SORRY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HEY!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FISH ASSHOLE!</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: who me</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES FUCKING YOU. THE FALLEN FASCIST DIPSHIT WITH THE STOLEN RING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GET THE *FUCK* IN LINE, BEFORE I *PUT* YOU IN LINE!</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: oh</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: oh wow</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: Y-ES</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: Y---ES SIR!!! 38D</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat reaches out and takes her hand. She has a very firm handshake. So firm that Karkat winces an eye shut when she squeezes and hopes that she doesn’t notice how much his smile has turned into a grimace. </p>
    <p>Above them, the sky tears open again, and again. A new wave of ghosts pours in from Meenah’s doomed assault. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: well here comes the caviarlry </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE WHAT?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: the cavia—</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M ALSO FUCKING ORDERING YOU TO STOP MAKING GARBAGE FISH PUNS FOREVER.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "26": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            26
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ohn stares at his phone for a while, thumb pressed to the space just below the “send message” button. He realizes he’s not dwelling so much on the content he’s hesitating to send—which now that he’s looking at it, seems no less vapid than anything he tends to bother Terezi with online—as he is on the nature of this correspondence they have, and his peculiar semiannual need to bother her in this way at all. What is this relationship they have, he wonders? Does he even care that much? Does she?</p>
    <p>But if he doesn’t care that much, and there’s nothing to it, then why does he do it? Why does he seem to put care into the nonsense he badgers her with? He supposes he could ask the same of many features of his life. Why does he care? Why does he put the time in? When you can’t shake the feeling that nothing here has much intrinsic meaning—or rings as “canon,” to drop a term he has to admit has worn out some welcome in his vocabulary—how does one justify even leaving the house?</p>
    <p>He thought he was over this. That he got his moping out of his system those first few years on Earth C and then started getting his life on track. He got married, he had a kid. That fixes everything, right? He wonders if his intermittent check-ins with Terezi have less to do with her personally and more to do with gravitating toward someone who’s still out there. Someone who can still lay credible claim to functioning as an agent of relevance. A person who hasn’t entirely forfeited their volitional integrity just yet. Like a guy with a wife and a kid.</p>
    <p>Heh, not a bad joke he just told himself, he has to admit. But it’s not satisfying, because it’s probably not the answer. The truth is, he thinks he just keeps texting Terezi because she’s the only one he knows who isn’t here.</p>
    <p>John drifts aimlessly through the atmosphere for hours, thinking, but not thinking. The forest below grows thin, alien. He floats past the border of the Troll Kingdom, where the grass starts to get sparse and gray, and sets down in a quarry surrounded by bare, thorny bushes. Instead of flowers they’re sprouting throbbing yellow pustules. John touches a branch and one of the pustules bursts, leaking mustard-colored slime everywhere. How could you be homesick for a place like this, John wonders.</p>
    <p>Then he remembers Terezi once told him about the place she grew up in. A quiet forest of blueberry and cotton candy. A canopy so dense she had to walk minutes from her house to be exposed to the sun. Even Alternia had beauty in it. But John is sure that Earth C probably replicates it the same way it replicates everything else: thin and garish and fake, fake, fakity FAKE. A bad photocopy with the ink settings turned to high contrast. A sunrise that casts no shadows.</p>
    <p>He’s been contemplating this melodramatically for maybe ten minutes when the sky rips opens above him and flashes violent waves of red and green across the landscape. Having dead trolls deposited from the sky like this is far from unusual these days, but what comes plummeting out of the rips in space above this time isn’t troll-shaped at all. It looks more like a meteor—a flash of metal and fire screaming toward the planet, trailing thick black smoke behind it. It outpaces the flames for a moment, and John recognizes it. It can’t be. There’s no way. And yet, there’s no mistaking it.</p>
    <p>It’s his father’s car. A whole ton of white metal oxidizing in the heat, the windows all smashed open. If anyone’s in there, he can’t make them out. John feels like he watches the car descend and crash against the earth in slow motion. It hits the ground with an impact that reverberates for miles. </p>
    <p>He’s never moved so fast as he does to reach the crater. He skids to a stop at the rim: below, the car is twisted and steaming, curled into horrible, jagged edges, but the back half is mostly intact. He sends a thrust of wind through the back of the carriage to blow both doors off and crawls inside to examine the seats. Just to make absolutely certain no one was in it when it crashed. The metal of the frame is still so hot that the air around it is sizzling, but John doesn’t care.</p>
    <p>The back seat is a mess. It’s smeared with... shaving cream? With little bits of... something, strewn about. He pinches some of the dry, brown, flaky substance, and sniffs it. Is this... tobacco?</p>
    <p>Mingling with the shaving cream, there are red bloodstains. But no flesh, or bones, or anything signifying the remains of a person. John puts a hand to his chest and sighs with... relief? Disappointment? He has no idea what he was hoping to find in here. Not his father, right? That would be stupid. Who needs to put eyes on their own father’s corpse twice in one lifetime. But then, he sees it.</p>
    <p>A streak of teal, smudged along the top ridge of the seat cushion, at the center of a red, bloody handprint. With wide eyes, John reaches out and runs his thumb over it. It chips under his nail, the same consistency as human blood. The same color as Terezi’s text.</p>
    <p>He rubs the flaky crust between his fingers. He only stopped talking to her a few hours ago. Time passes differently out there, as he’s often reminded. She was so sure she was dying. Was this it? Was this how she —</p>
    <p>John reels back, nausea striking him in the pit of his stomach. What kind of twisted coincidence is this? Why is he finding this now? If Terezi was here, why? Who was she bleeding with in the back of his father’s car?</p>
    <p>It finally hits him. Not just that he hasn’t seen Terezi in years, or that he’s never going to see her again. It’s that he never <em>was</em> going to see her again. It was over before it began. </p>
    <p>John’s body is drenched in sweat. He staggers away from the mangled car, his eyes stinging from the heat. He rips his glasses off and looks up at the sky, an unfocused and unspecific field of color and possibility. It looks like a flat canvas to him, yet behind its flatness he knows it stretches back through an infinite expanse of pointlessness, a limitless field of uncaring. It seems to mock him. </p>
    <p>He points his eyes at the sympathetic dirt instead. The soft earth seems to beckon him, and he finds himself sinking to his knees, fingers digging into the disrupted soil. It’s still warm, humming with energy from the car’s meteoric fall. The sight of his arms stretched out in front of him warps in his blurry field of vision, bending and shimmering in the dying light.</p>
    <p>John realizes he’s crying when the first wet droplets fall onto the backs of his hands. They mingle with the dirt around him, turning the comforting earth to sticky mud. He doesn’t get it, and he never has. </p>
    <p>A choked sob forces its way out of his chest. His fingers flex into claws, gathering up dirt into his shaking fists. He bears down until his knuckles turn white and his fingernails press sharply into the flesh of his palms. The pain makes him feel real.</p>
    <p>All he’s ever wanted is to be fucking real.</p>
    <p>Then, as if not quite finished with the sky just yet, he turns his gaze upward to give it one last angry look. He feels consumed in that moment by the acuteness of his physicality and the overwhelming scale of his cosmic irrelevance. His lungs fill with air, and he releases all his years of pent-up frustration and anger and guilt and doubt and weakness and pain and misery in a blood-curdling shout that sounds more like it’s from the mouth of an animal than a man. John screams at the merciless sky until his throat is raw and he has no energy left even to cry. </p>
    <p>No one hears him, and if they had, it wouldn’t matter.</p></div>
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  "27": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE SIX</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            27
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>en years have gone by.</p>
    <p>Two minutes before midnight, a teenage boy crosses beneath the neon lights of the Trollish slums, stepping quick and sure-footed atop the cracked pavement as if this is a path he’s walked many times. He’s got on a coat two sizes too big and a brimmed hat pulled down to hide his distinctive buck-toothed grin. Above him, Jane Crocker’s face beams out from a holographic propaganda display, reminding the populace that curfew is in fifteen minutes.</p>
    <p>This boy would like to say that he’s too cool and daring to care about curfew, but the sound of Jane’s cloying, prerecorded voice rising above the noisy streets sends an involuntary shiver down his spine. Luckily, the girl he’s come to meet does not suffer from the same instinctive Jane-based anxiety. She doesn’t have many fears or inhibitions at all. About a block from where they usually meet, she swings out of an alleyway and yanks him in by his elbow. He lets loose a shrill, unmasculine noise right into her mouth before she shuts him up with a kiss.</p>
    <p>After a few minutes of extremely novice make-out action, Harry Anderson and Vriska part, both wet-mouthed and short of breath. Harry Anderson wipes a bit of blood off of his bottom lip. Vriska pokes him in the chest and hisses.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What took you so long????????</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: hey, give me a break here vris. my auntie has guards breathing down my neck day and night.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ugh. How’d you get out this time?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Harry Anderson rolls his eyes. He has beautiful eyes. He’s a pretty successful combination of his parents’ genes, all things considered. He’s got his father’s infectious grin, his mother’s long eyelashes, and his “auntie’s” unusually blue eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: fucking gamzee.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: he was all like:</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: Yo HaRrY mY dAwG, yOu Go OuT aNd GeT yOuRsElF uP a SlIcE oF tHaT pRiMe BeEf VrIsKeT, mY oNe TrUe HoMiE. lOvE iS wHaT mAkEs ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg EaRtH sPiN oN iTs AxIs. ThAt, AnD bEiNg PoLiTiCaLlY nEuTrAl, BrOtHeR.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska doubles over laughing at Harry Anderson’s impressively spot-on imitation of Gamzee’s mulish lilt and vaguely lewd posture. Harry Anderson starts giggling too. He can’t help it. She’s so pretty and her laugh is both cruel and infectious.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: god! he always makes sure to point out that he’s politically neutral in literally every sentence that comes out of his mouth, even though he’s *definitely* still fucking my aunt.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ugh, so l8me.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: This is all so l8me!!!!!!!! All in all, such a Deeply Unsatisfactory state of affairs!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yeah. i hate sneaking around like this. i wish i could see you every day.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: or even, like, tell my mom that i have a girlfriend so she can stop pestering me about it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska hooks two fingers under the hem of Harry Anderson’s shirt and reels him in close. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: In thaaaaaaaat case...  </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Why don’t we run aw8y and join the rebellion together, Harry Anderson? Wouldn’t that be Terribly Rom8ntic????????</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: We could be wild rebels in love, like Karkat and Meenah!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Isn’t their story GR8? I get so inspired thinking about it.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: oh, i don’t know if i could pull that off vriska... i don’t really have the, y’know, rebellious *stature* of someone like karkat vantas.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Pffft, ahahahahahahahaha. He’s Extremely Short in real life, you know!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i don’t know if that’s actually true? i think it might just be something people assume because of, y’know, his personality. like he’s overcompensating or something.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, i don’t *remember* him being that short.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh yeah? The last time you saw him you were like three years old. Get real, Harry Anderson! </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: oh? and when’s the last time *you* saw him?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: ... </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: ha ha! :p</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska shoves Harry Anderson. Not playfully. He hits the bricks behind him with a soft ‘oof,’ then keeps laughing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERON: oh my god, vriska, you always talk so big but you’re not any more of a rebel than i am!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh shuuuuuuuut up. You don’t know shit, Harry.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: My moms are totally gonna get me a Prime Commission in the Resist8nce when I turn sixteen!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yeah yeah, whatever you say.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It’s TRUE!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: But until then, guess we’ll never know whether it’s an official f8ct that Karkat is short or not.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i guess so! </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: but anyway i wasn’t talking about his height. i was talking about the eyepatch.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, i believe in troll rights and everything...  </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Um, I should HOPE so.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: ...but not enough to lose an eye over it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska snorts at him condescendingly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Don’t be ridiculous Harry. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She pushes him up against the wall again and kisses him hard.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: If we really do end up absconding from our mediocre Hot Teen Lives to become rebels, then OBVI8USLY I’m going to be the one with the Extremely Dashing And Sexy eyepatch. H8h8h8h8h8h8h8h8!!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: hmm its getting pretty bad down there</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: wh0 cares.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: this is 0fficially s0mething we d0n’t care ab0ut, right?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i dont know</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: is it </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: this world is inconsequential.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well there you have it</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia lies with her chin in her palms and looks over the edge of the meteor station. Under the shade of night, the cities of the Troll Kingdom form a twinkling filigree over the rocky landscape below, a hundred rivers of gossamer lights in all the colors of the hemospectrum. Jane’s fleet is so massive that it blots out the lights of the capital. Is this what Alternia looked like from the sky as well? Aradia lived far from the city, and that all seems so long ago anyway. Sollux comes to stand by her, popping open a can of fizzy drink.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: karkats really going to fight that war isnt he</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: yeah.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: i didn’t think he had it in him, but apparently all it takes f0r him t0 bec0me the her0 he was meant t0 be was f0r things t0 get extremely fucking stupid.</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: like, WAY m0re stupid than usual.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yes</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: it really is too bad hes reaching this heroic apotheosis of his in a world that doesnt matter</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: please do not mistake the essence of my words for indifference.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: when i said that this world was inconsequential, i was talking objectively. we’ve moved far beyond the realm of canon relevance, but on a subjective level we can view this world as a glass bubble.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: fragile, solitary, with a surface uncracked.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the actions, struggles and feelings of its inhabitants are certainly not inconsequential to them. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: while abstracted heavily, and fully freed from all forces of narrative gravity, these events still represent possibilities that slept within the hearts of all who reside here.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Sollux tosses Aradia a can of fizzy drink. She catches it without looking, cracks it open and takes a long, refreshing sip of the hissing liquid.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: hm</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: in that case i guess we should keep watching</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">On Earth C, months go by at a breakneck pace. Teens fall in and out of love and hate. Alliances change, revolutions fully germinate, wars commence. And somewhere within that mess, John Egbert is the best man at Jade and Dave’s wedding. He lasts nearly two hours before he gets a ruinous case of the sniffles.</p>
    <p>The event is being held semi-clandestinely in the mansion of one of Jake’s wealthy television exec friends, staged as a “reunion party” for whichever one of his old, stupid television shows people get nostalgic about these days. It’s a smokescreen meant to throw the human government off the scent of political radicals like Rose and Kanaya partying just twenty miles from the seat of power. Jake claims there’s no way they’ll find them, but John sometimes gets the feeling that the whole planet’s bugged. After nearly ten years of unfettered monetary interference in the upper echelons of the global hegemony, could something like this possibly fly under Jane’s radar? It can’t, right? John likes to think she’s not so far gone that she’d tip off the government to send troops to arrest her friends and family on the occasion of her ecto-daughter’s wedding. </p>
    <p>So he smiles his way through his best man duties, then smiles his way again through the gallows-humor speech Rose gives at dinner, backlit by the flames of the Imperial Drone factories churning away on the horizon. He wears a possibly genuine expression for a few moments as he dips down to give Jade a kiss on the forehead. She looks beautiful in her dress, and Dave doesn’t look especially uncomfortable beside her. There is still joy to be found on the eve of a war, Rose says in her speech, but John found precious little to be happy about in this world even before everything went off the fucking chain. He is conspicuously unaccompanied. Not alone, of course: he’s been put in a honored seat at the head of the wedding party with Jade to his left and Rose to his right. But Jade is with Dave, and Rose has Kanaya and their daughter, and everyone knows that John has lost his family to Jane Crocker.</p>
    <p>Well, not literally to Jane Crocker. What drove Roxy away was him being depressed and just an all-around huge wet blanket who was impossible to live with. John is totally ready to own the fact that he was a bad husband, but maybe not the fact that he was a bad enough husband to drive his wife to passively support a brewing genocidal dictatorship. She looks happier, though, whenever he’s caught sight of her behind Jane—Calliope faithfully at her side—in any of the propaganda broadcasts that Jane passes off as business press conferences. By the time Roxy finally cut things off between them, he hadn’t personally seen her smile in years.</p>
    <p>John has no idea how Harry Anderson is doing, but he definitely caught Vriska texting him under the table when he got up to get another flute of champagne. She’s texting Tavros in another window, which is weird, but probably not as weird as John craning his neck to read messages over a teenage girl’s shoulder. The idea that Rose’s shitty daughter has more contact with his son than he does makes his eyes start to itch. He wanders out onto the ballroom balcony so that no one else has to see him cry for a second time tonight. It’s a balmy evening, and John can smell the oil burning at the forge across the harbor.</p>
    <p>There’s someone else occupying the balcony already, and it’s not one of the party guests. A shadow, standing with its back to the ocean, arms crossed, gaze fixed firmly on the ballroom windows. John takes a step closer and immediately recognizes Karkat’s nubby horns and distinctive shoulder-hunch. Of course.</p>
    <p>John snorts back his tears and jaunts forward with a jolly wave.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hi, karkat!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat blinks and looks up, startled out of his thoughts. He’s grown gaunt since John last saw him in real life. In his Alternian military fatigues, and his admittedly bitchin’ eyepatch, he looks almost imposing. Kind of dashing, actually. When he opens his mouth, however, he’s just the same old Karkat.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HI AGAIN IDIOT.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are you doing standing out here alone like a creep?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat’s frown gets deeper, and he picks at the red cording that runs down the breastplate of his uniform.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I REALLY SHOULDN’T BE HERE.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why not? you were on the guest list.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, HMM, I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE THINK ABOUT IT FOR TEN SECONDS, JOHN.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John chews his lip and thinks about it for ten seconds.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess this would probably be pretty hard to watch if you were still, you know, all heartbroken about it.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I WOULDN’T SAY THAT I WAS STILL “ALL HEARTBROKEN” ABOUT IT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John joins him at railing and bumps his shoulder. Karkat groans and runs a hand down his face, obviously still a little “all heartbroken” about it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S JUST THAT BREAK UPS ARE HARD, AND OFTEN HAVE UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES THAT CAN LINGER FOR YEARS.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re telling me. when my wife left me, she took an entire political faction with her.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: those chess guys sure do love roxy, don’t they?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH, THE CARAPACIAN-HUMAN ALLIANCE HAS BEEN CAUSING US NOTHING BUT PAIN TO BE ENTIRELY FUCKING HONEST.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO ONE WANTS TO BE AGAINST THE *CARAPACIANS*. THEY’RE HARMLESS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE FACT THAT THEY DIDN’T EVEN GET TO VOTE ON WHETHER OR NOT THEY SHOULD RATIFY THE TREATY REALLY COMPLICATES THE MATTER. THE WHOLE THING IS A DISASTER ON JUST ABOUT EVERY LEVEL.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. sorry about that.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD JOHN, STOP BEING SO FUCKING PATHETIC FOR JUST A MINUTE. COULD YOU DO THAT FOR ME?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know. that’s a pretty big favor you’re asking me there, karkat.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LOOK, I DON’T PERSONALLY BLAME YOU FOR ANY OF THIS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FIRST OF ALL, FOR YOU TO HAVE HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH A MASSIVE SHIFT IN GEOPOLITICAL ALLEGIANCES? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT PROBABLY WOULD HAVE REQUIRED YOU LEAVE YOUR FUCKING HOUSE FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: good pep talk. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m 100% over my separation now. thanks karkat.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JOHN, SERIOUSLY THOUGH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU DO HAVE TO GET OVER ROXY EVENTUALLY. WITH EVERYTHING THAT’S GOING ON, CAN YOU REALLY AFFORD TO WASTE ANOTHER FIVE YEARS MALINGERING IN YOUR BEDROOM LIKE A PIECE OF FUCKING GARBAGE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU KNOW</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE REBELLION COULD REALLY USE A GUY LIKE YOU.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if you think that i haven’t been given the exact speech you’re about to give me, except about six or seven times the length, then you don’t know rose lalonde.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK. THEN WHAT’S THE FUCKING PROBLEM? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU HATE WHAT THE GOVERNMENT IS DOING AS MUCH AS THE REST OF US DO!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John turns around so that he can rest his elbows on the bannister. The angle of the moon is cutting a sharp stroke of light over the water, like a blade descending from the night sky to shear the harbor in half. He takes a despondent sip of his champagne and sighs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno. it doesn’t seem responsible, really... to dedicate my life to something so important when i’m in a place where i can’t even find the energy to think that getting out of bed in the morning is “important.”</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: in fact, it seems like it would be a pretty fucking selfish thing to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what if i get distracted because i’m sad?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what if i fuck up by staring too tragically into the distance on an important mission, and i get killed in a stupid way?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JOHN, AREN’T YOU TECHNICALLY IMMORTAL *SPECIFICALLY* IN CASES OF “GETTING KILLED IN A STUPID WAY”?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. but you aren’t. and neither are most of your followers.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat’s expression turns hard, regretful. It’s a frown made of granite, or some other manly kind of rock that chips easily when dropped. His one eye is glinting bright gold, reflecting the light from the party. He opens his mouth to say something, but is distracted by movement from inside the ballroom.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH SHIT. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HERE COMES DAVE. I HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He fumbles with something at his wrist, and out pops a grappling line. With unexpected smoothness, he hitches it over the edge of the balcony and leaps the railing in a single, elegant bound. John watches him rappel down the cliffside until he disappears beneath the precipice shadows. Wow. Karkat grew up to be kind of cool. Who would have guessed?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no john dont do it</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John spins on his heel to see Dave in the doorway, holding a bottle of champagne. He looks smart in his three-piece tux, but he’s still sporting the same old Stiller shades, which always serve to remind John how hard it is to believe this guy’s almost forty. Jesus Christ, are they seriously almost forty? Yes, they’re technically immortal—that doesn’t mean the encroaching milestone isn’t making him feel dizzy nonetheless. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh? don’t do what?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh you looked pretty bummed when you left the reception and then i find you staring at the ocean like you just snorted six lines of powdered midlife crisis off the bathroom counter</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so i guess “the joke” was like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: haha dont literally commit suicide at my wedding dude lol</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not to commit suicide at my fucking wedding is pretty obvious</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but in retrospect i guess its not that funny</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but seriously john dont kill yourself </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i wasn’t going to kill myself!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: id miss you and also itd bum out jade pretty bad and i have so thoroughly hitched my star to that yifftrain in case you havent noticed</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yifftrain?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah man you see she-</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t wanna know!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway, i was just, uh...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John decides it’s probably better not to mention what he was actually doing. And definitely not to mention who just rappelled off the balcony with alarming stealth and grace.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...appreciating how pretty the view is.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hm yeah i love the sight of the military industrial complex destroying the landscape in the evening</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: come on, that’s obviously not what i meant.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave comes to join John at the bannister, gazing out over the water with a look at least as existential as John’s. John isn’t sure what to say about that, so he wiggles his empty glass, looking for another shot of sparkling social lubricant. Dave tops him off before taking a long swig off the bottle himself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you okay, dude?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: eh</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: having been married once before, i gotta say... it’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno jade and i have been together so long this all just feels like</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave shrugs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whatever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was sort of hoping that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean considering that were working together in the rebellion and everything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was hoping that karkat would show</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John looks down and twirls the stem of his glass between two fingers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so you’re still not... um, over that? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the whole karkat thing?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean will i ever be over it??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the way i felt about him probably isnt the kind of shit you just get over</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you just sorta </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: live with it </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no matter how it turns out</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but hes with meenah and im with jade and the whole worlds gone fucking batshit so whats the point in looking backwards now </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: right?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John swallows a lump down his throat. Terezi’s picture is still in his wallet: faded, dog-eared, marred by ragged white lines down the center from being folded and unfolded so many times, deep enough to be called valleys at this point.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: right.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: right</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">They fall silent for a moment, soaking up the atmosphere, sipping their booze, contemplating the suckiness of being an adult. Dave lets out a soft laugh and slaps John on the back. John swallows his champagne wrong and starts coughing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo dude thanks for being my best man </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: *cough* oh. th-thanks, man. no problem!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cuz you are</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ya know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre my best bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my main man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my most devoted dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cheers john</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: cheers, dave. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">They toast, lip of the glass to rim of the bottle. The sound rings out above the noise of the party inside. It rises up above the ocean, to where the stars are turning and dawn is already breaking on some other part of the planet. That’s how the years pass. Faster and faster the longer it goes. For those living on this iteration of Earth C, like John and Dave, it appears to be an illusion of age, an old adage about perception changing the older you get. The days get shorter the more the regrets pile up.</p>
    <p>But that’s only part of it. Above this Earth, the dead cherub is still meditating, waiting for the day when she can have her own heroic apotheosis. Waiting for the day when she can confront the one she calls the Prince. And on this Earth, John is just waiting for the day that feeling finally stops. That feeling that he’s still waiting for something, and the even worse feeling that years ago, he missed his only chance to put an end to it. If you stand on a very high hill at dawn, you can watch your shadow move in an arc around you. </p>
    <p>Ten years to the day he last spoke with Terezi, John finally gets rid of her photograph. He stands at the top of a very high hill, rips it into six pieces and lets the wind carry it away. Whatever else happens now...  it doesn’t matter.</p></div>
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            28
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>hat being said, it’s very rude, all things considered, for Karkat to start a war on Harry Anderson’s birthday.</p>
    <p>John’s floating above the outskirts of the Human Capital, letting the breeze toss him to and fro. He’s hanging upside down in the air watching the first stage of the Troll Rebellion’s forward assault begin to establish their defensive position along the border. Despite the government’s paranoid crackdown on troll reproduction, they’ve ended up vastly outnumbered anyway thanks to the incalculable deluge of troll ghosts pouring down from the sky over the last decade. Someone with political opinions might think that this entire quagmire was one of the human government’s own making.</p>
    <p>John isn’t really on record as “having political opinions,” but he does think that the government approached this entire subject like it was trying to hold on to a water balloon by squeezing it too tight, and now it’s about to explode in their faces. He’s wondering if he should go see his son one last time before that happens. The battle is shaping up to be a pretty serious engagement. Both sides armed to the teeth, with all modern military technology at their disposal. Warships, laser guns, laser cannons, laser mines. Laser mines? Would those be mines that shot lasers, or lasers that tripped mines? John hasn’t been keeping up with the recent innovations in weaponry, although he has noted that the lock industry has finally started to take off. Dave said that this was all to be expected in a war economy. But John tuned out most of his analysis, which is what everyone does when Dave starts talking about the economy.</p>
    <p>A flash above the clouds catches John’s attention: another ghost, falling down from wherever it is they come from. John follows after the light with an exhausted sigh. The novelty of dead trolls falling from the sky has really worn off over the years. But he might as well go warn the new arrival that they’ve landed in the middle of an imminent warzone. He sets down at the edge of the crater and peers through the smoke. </p>
    <p>He recognizes the ghost immediately, because he sees a younger version of her almost every day.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: vriska?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska’s face snaps up, eyes blazing. Eyes. Actual eyes, with expression, color, pupils, and everything.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait. you’re... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alive??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John skids down the side of the crater and helps her sit up. He wasn’t imagining it. She’s extremely alive. And extremely wounded. And above all, extremely Vriska. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god. you’re not just “vriska”...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re *actually* vriska!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re like, literal, for real, actual vriska!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska shoves John away and staggers to her feet. There’s a bleeding gash on her head and something lodged in her chest. It appears to be the same material as whatever was piercing the center of teen-Jade’s corpse. She’s bleeding bright blue all down her side, but her expression is wild.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What the F8CK are you t8lking a8out?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Where am I????????</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I c8n’t 8e here! I h8ve to go 8ACK!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: back where?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I need to see what happened! </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I NEED TO KNOW HOW IT TURNED OUT!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how *what* turned out?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: vriska, you’re bleeding horribly, and talking total nonsense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we need to get you some help.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She whirls around and grabs John by the shoulders. She starts shaking him, voice cracking with crazed desperation.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I need to go 8ack!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I need to SEE!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I NEED TO SEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!</p>
    </div></div>
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  "29": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE SEVEN</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            29
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i see him.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ooh is it the prince</p>
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: fucking finally.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: no.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: :/</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope animates the puppet body she inhabits, the same one that has not aged a day since it crashed here, and rouses it from perfect, corpse-like stillness. Dead-Jade unfolds from her meditation pose and pushes to her feet in an elegant sweep.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is the one i have been waiting for all these years.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: we have run along parallel lines for what may as well be eternity, but my gravitational well has finally ensnared him.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and now he is due to fall into this world.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dead-Jade folds her hands behind her as she rises into the air, body language delicate, purposeful. Aradia hitches her arm around Sollux’s back to lift him up, and follows Jade’s body out into the open air. She casts her pitch-black eyes down to watch the dark clouds of battle beginning to form above the Human Capital below. Sollux frowns.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="sollux">SOLLUX: are y0u sure y0u want t0 g0 d0wn there? it seems like it’s ab0ut t0 get wild.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes. more than you can possibly imagine. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the chaos war is about to begin, and our window of opportunity is narrow.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: we must be there when he falls.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: come with me.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "3": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            3
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>es, something feels <em>very</em> different.</p>
    <p>Dirk’s hands begin to shake, so violently that he drops his screwdriver into the chassis of the battle bot he’s working on. It clangs around for a bit, landing somewhere that will doubtlessly be very inconvenient to retrieve. It doesn’t matter. There’s no more time for rap battles, or politics, or wacky hijinks of an adventurous nature. There’s no time left for anything.</p>
    <p>Moisture beading at his temples, Dirk staggers away from his workbench and braces himself against the wall. His knees are weak, head spinning, palms so sweaty that the concrete feels smooth under them. He nearly drops his phone while attempting to dramatically autodial Jane’s number through the haze of his trembling, sudorific stupor. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey, Jane. Bad news.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Cancel everything.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Excuse me, what?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All plans.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Cancel them. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s over.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What’s over, Dirk?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I just told you. Everything. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Because we’re canceling it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Dirk, are you quite okay?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, I’m cool. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You sound terrible.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s unlike you to call quits on a caper like this without offering a lengthy diatribe on it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh yeah, I forgot to mention.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Lengthy diatribes are over too.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They’re canceled.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane gasps loudly, without a hint of irony.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I don’t understand.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Don’t worry about it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Just do what I say.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He hangs up on her and brings up his contacts so that he can text Jake and cancel all their televised fights for the foreseeable <em>forever</em>. He then blocks Jake’s number, because if it’s not worth explaining to Jane, it’s definitely not worth explaining to Jake. Then again, nothing is ever really worth explaining to Jake. Jake’s number is barely even worth storing in his phone, if Dirk is being perfectly honest. </p>
    <p>Through the workshop window, Dirk can see the sun touching the horizon. Ah, exquisite: he takes a moment to appreciate the sublime synthesis of the atmosphere and the existential crisis he is currently experiencing. The sun is setting both physically and metaphorically right now. <em>Not bad</em>, he thinks, then corrects himself, because while there is always time to delight in the volatility of causality, the whole situation is actually and for real <em>astonishingly</em> bad.</p></div>
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  "30": |-
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            30
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">A</span>s Jake traverses the length of Jane’s ship, he suspects he has never carried more dread in his heart than he does in this moment.</p>
    <p>The burden of the call he just received weighs so heavily upon him that it’s a struggle to propel himself each step forward. He wishes that someone else had gotten the news, but there’s nothing that can be done. He has to be there for his wife, even if he knows saying what he needs to say will be hard for both of them.</p>
    <p>The doors to the ship’s bridge slide open to permit him entry when he approaches. Jane is standing by the navigational stations, engaged in some sort of confabulation of doubtlessly critical importance with her eternal shadow, Gamzee Makara. Jake’s already miserable mood drops further at the sight of him—no matter how long this arrangement carries on, it never seems to get easier to stomach.</p>
    <p>Jane is dressed to the nines in her signature blazing-red power suit, her freshly polished designer pumps glinting in the varied lights of the Crockercorp ship command controls. The full entourage of the Crocker conglomerate is fast en route to a business conference that Jane insists is of the “utmost importance” to the impending negotiation of an array of paramilitary contracts with the government, and she would be the first to tell you that looking your best is one of the most critical parts of arbitration. </p>
    <p>She doesn’t immediately acknowledge Jake’s presence when he approaches. He has to conspicuously clear his throat before Jane turns her attention away from Gamzee, and even then she only dignifies Jake’s appearance with a fleeting glance. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Do you need something?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well... i have some terrible news i’m afraid. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What is it, Jake? I’m rather occupied at the moment. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im awfully sorry to bother you but its very important dear.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Is something the matter with Tavros? </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No... eh heh you might want to come with me to our quarters for this one.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ...As I said, I’m a bit busy right now.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: W-well I just thought. Maybe its best if you s-sit down for this one. My dear. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: My delectable honey bunches of oats.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The jolly ole capn of my crunch.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: M-m-my lovely wife whom i love so much.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s face twists in annoyance. She is quite a bit shorter than Jake now, but the way she looks down on him makes her seem like she towers ten feet above him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: My <em>goodness</em>, Jake! What do you want? Can’t you see I’m right in the middle of something?! Just spit it out already!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The whole bridge goes quiet at Jane’s outburst. Everyone has stopped in the midst of their tasks to stare nervously at the altercation. The only other sound that penetrates the silence is Gamzee noisily slurping on the rubber nipple of his baby bottle. </p>
    <p>Jake swallows like he’s in a cartoon. It’s a big, loud gulp. A sound that instantly rachets up Jane’s annoyance—like most of Jake’s actions seem to, these days. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well you see...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I guess ill come right out and say it then.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I just got news that your father has passed jane. Im so sorry.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">At first the words don’t quite register. Jane expected this, like all interactions with Jake, to be a meaningless waste of her time. Initially she gives a dismissive nod, like she’s taking in some trivial piece of information. And then the weight of the statement strikes her, sending a jolt of shock through her chest.</p>
    <p>It passes quickly, though. She’d almost forgotten.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: An unfortunate incident, but it’s no matter.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’ll simply revive him, and then make sure he’s assigned a security detail.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Have his body brought here as quickly as possible. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im afraid that wont be possible honey.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Theres no body for you to revive at all.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s eyes widen in disbelief.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: What?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What... what happened?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: It... word from the secret service is that it was one of karkats assassins.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The target was the human president.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: He uhhh. Your father that is... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: He jumped in the way and took the shot.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The president is safe.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Your dad saved his life.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I don’t understand.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What happened to his body?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Did Karkat’s rebels abduct him?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Er... no.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The shot he took was from the barrel of a rocket launcher.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im afraid the assault blew him straight to bits. Theres hardly anything left...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: W... what...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Luckily the president was barely harmed as your old man took the full brunt.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: As far as i know the only harm to him was having his full lustrous mustache burned clean off his face.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its... its a friggin tragedy... :’(</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: (Sniffle.)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s gaze falls to the floor. Jane’s hand clutches at the front of her suit in an unsteady fist.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: P... please tell me you’re joking.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake, tell me this is just a prank.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im... im afraid not jane.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im so sorry.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane whips around, tears in her eyes. The whole bridge is holding its breath. She feels every eye on her then, the pressure to hold it together. She can’t show weakness now. She’s come so far. </p>
    <p>Jane sniffles and swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. She won’t cry. But she can be angry instead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: UGH!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: That... that fool!!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I can’t believe that he would do this!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: How could he do this to me!?!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Janey...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The human president could be anyone! </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: My dad can’t be anyone but him!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake isn’t sure this is the right or smart thing to do, but he chances it: he steps forward to place a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder. When she doesn’t immediately tear herself away, he tentatively—and slowly, like he’s approaching a wounded animal—pulls her into a hug.</p>
    <p>Jane is too dazed to protest. She limply stares past Jake, eyes unfocused.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I don’t... no... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Shhhh. Shhhh. Everythings going to be ok.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: God. I can’t believe he... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, but of course I can.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: He’s always been...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Always been so infuriatingly good.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: God, how stupid.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: This is so stupid. I’m so stupid. How could I put him in such a dangerous position?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Chief of staff?! Anyone could have done that job! Why did I tell him to... my own father... I—</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Shhh. Janey. You did nothing wrong.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Nothing wrong at all.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You never have.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I love you jane. We all do.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I-isnt that right gamzee?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yEaH mAnG :o)</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: We AlL aNd GoT pLeNtY oF lOvE uP iN tHiS bItCh FoR tHe BiG jUiCy j-C!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee turns to the bridge crew and gestures magnificently with his arms. Rivulets of milk are running down his chin.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hOnK iF yOu LoVe ThIs BiG tItTy BiZzNaTcH!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhOoP wHoOp!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A petrified pall falls across the bridge as the crew tries to figure out whether they’re supposed to take this seriously or not. The comms officer shares a look with the engineer. The conning officer looks like she’s about to shit her pants. And then they turn to the most pitiable stooge of them all for answers.</p>
    <p>Jake’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he nods urgently over Jane’s shoulder to indicate that, yes, they should definitely do it. At once, the bridge crew gives a unanimous honk.</p>
    <p>Jane sniffs and pulls away out of Jake’s embrace. She turns back to the bridge and takes a forward step, stumbling slightly in her heels. But she catches her balance, fixes her posture, and slips back on a stony mask. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: All right.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Get the president on the phone.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s clear to me now that it’s past time for the military to strike, and I’ll be giving that man a real piece of my mind until an appropriate counterattack is in motion.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Obviously, the government’s attempts to be gracious with the troll ilk have been naive and foolish.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: These rats cannot be negotiated with. They cannot be swayed by reason or appeals to peace and civility.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The only thing that they want—the only thing that they have ever wanted since the ungodly inception of their disgusting, verminous species—is bloodshed.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And if that is what they truly desire... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, far be it from us to deny them.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: J-ja—</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Not another word!!!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Are you sure this isnt a mis—</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: THE TIME TO ACT IS NOW!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: THEY WILL PAY FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: EVERY LAST FUCKING ONE OF THEM!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! THIS IS THE END OF THE LINE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane is blazing with fury. She marches to the center of the bridge.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: ALL OF YOU, RETURN TO YOUR STATIONS! WE ARE CHANGING COURSE!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: WE WILL BE GOING DIRECTLY TO MEET WITH THE PRESIDENT, AND I WILL NOT REST UNTIL HE GIVES THE COMMAND TO CRUSH THIS FUCKING REBELLION AND DESTROY ANY CHANCE THAT THEY MIGHT EVER RESIST AGAIN!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The bridge crew doesn’t even think to defy Jane’s orders. They return to their stations, dutiful. The navigator adjusts the ship’s destination coordinates, and the comms officer opens a line with the government’s seat of command. Only one man in the room is brave enough to take a stand.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: hEy.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Do YoU tHiNk ThAt MiGhT bE a BiT mOtHeRfUcKinG xEnOpHoBiC?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane spins on her heel like a whirlwind, her face twisted into a hideous snarl. She rounds on Gamzee with all the hatred she can muster.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: XENOPHOBIC?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I am not fucking xenophobic!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’M jUsT sAyInG mY mOsT bOdAcIoUs Of BaBeS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhAt YoU’rE lAyInG dOwN hErE iS sOuNdInG wIcKeD bItCh GeNoCiDaL.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What the fuck are you talking about?!?!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I am not, and have never been, a fucking xenophobe!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yEa BuT lIsTeN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: KiLlInG aLl ThE tRoLlS... </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: tHaT wOuLd Be BaD yOu FeEl Me?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I’m A tRoLl ReMeMbEr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mAyBe YoU sHoUlD tAkE a MiN aNd ChIlL a BiT, lIl MiNt ChOcO cHiP. hOnK.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Shut the fuck up!!!!!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You fucking insects just assassinated my father!!!!!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeH hEh. YoU’rE cUtE wHeN yOu’Re MaD, mY tAsTy LiTtLe SnAcCuCcInO :o)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">And then Gamzee seals his fate. He reaches out with his finger and boops Jane right on her little nose. Honk!</p>
    <p>Jake audibly gasps at the sight—but Jane does not have any sort of violent outburst of anger. Instead, she goes completely, icily silent.</p>
    <p>Gamzee smiles vacantly down at Jane, unaware of his misstep. When Jane next speaks, it is in a controlled, steady voice.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Security.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Escort this troll off of my ship. Now.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The security personnel aboard the bridge do not hesitate to follow the command. They descend on Gamzee in a swarm, grabbing him by his arms. The baby bottle tumbles out of his grasp, busting open when it falls. The remaining milk spills out, pooling in the recessed lighting of the floor.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wHoA wHoA wHoA, hOlD uP!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU cAn’T jUsT gO aNd ThRoW mE oFf BoArD, mY mIlKy MaMi.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, but I can!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Just watch me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The security officers begin to pull Gamzee away, but he makes one final desperate play.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wAiT!! jUsT hEaR mE oUt!!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: iF yOu ThRoW mE oUt I’lL bE aLl LoSt AnD sHiT, bAbE. yOu KnOw I bE nEeDiNg YoU.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What? You think appealing to me with your disgusting little addiction is going to sway me?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: That’s the funniest joke you’ve ever told, clown.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: iT’s NoT aBoUt ThE mIlK, bOo.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: It’S aBoUt YoU.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane stops.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: What...?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i NeEd YoU...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you saying that y—</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I’vE gOnE aNd ToLd YoU AlL aBoUt My PaSt StRuGgLeS wItH tHe WiCkEd GrEeN sUbStAnCeS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i DoNe GoNe AnD mAdE sO mUcH pRoGgReSs, FiNdInG nEw HeAlThY wAyS tO cOpE wItH tHe VoIcEs AnD rEdEeM mYsElF.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AnD yOu’Ve BeEn MoRe Of A hElP tO mE tHaN aNyBoDy. MoRe ThAn AnYtHiNg.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yOu KnOw WiTh ThE NiGhTmArEs I cAn’T sLeEp WiThOuT hOlDiNg On To A mOtHeRfUcKeR!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane sneers. She has no idea why she thought for even a moment that he might have meant anything else.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I am so...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Ugh. Forget it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You are despicable.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: yOu CaN’t JuSt Go AnD cUt A bRoThEr OfF!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: LeT’s AlL uP aNd ThInK tHiS tHrOuGh AlL rEaSoNaBlY aNd ShIt.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: i’Ll Do MoThErFuCkInG aNyThInG!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s eyes rake up and down Gamzee’s body, like she’s carefully considering her response. Her face is expressionless when she answers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Begone, clown.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane turns, and waves the security away. The uniformed men drag Gamzee from the bridge. The sound of honks reverberate hauntingly through the halls as the wretched jester is removed from his seat of power at last.</p>
    <p>In spite of everything, Jake can’t help but be relieved.</p>
    <p>With Gamzee finally disposed of, Jane is invigorated with the strength of her own conviction. She spins on her heel and confidently strides to the captain’s chair. She engages her interface, sits down, and assumes her seat of command.</p>
    <p>The time for mercy is long past. Karkat Vantas must die.</p></div>
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  "31": |-
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            31
          </h3>
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    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-lg" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: John, I need to see!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: How do I get 8ack!?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John looks up to see one of Jane’s recon ships flying overhead. Aside from the encroaching fleet, the blue sky is seamless and calm. The hole that Vriska came through has already sealed up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think you *can* go back.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i have no idea what the exact scientific mechanism behind falling out of the sky is, but so far it’s proven to be a one way trip.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Noooooooo!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: welcome to earth c, ha ha. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it fucking sucks!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska releases her vice grip on John’s arms so that she can cradle her head between her hands.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh my god!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: This is the worst thing that could h8ve possibly h8ppened to me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you sure about that?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yes, I am a8solutely... w8.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Why are you so... so????????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska gestures wordlessly at John’s entire body. Then she leans in closer to study his face, squinting with suspicion.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: John, are you old?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um. a little, i guess.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, i’m going to live forever apparently, so in that respect i’m still pretty young.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but compared to the average human lifespan, i’m like... about three eighths of the way dead?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska runs both hands down her face, leaving long, dark streaks of blood.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I can’t 8e here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: vriska...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait, actually, i guess i shouldn’t call you that? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it might get confusing.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Wh8t?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, see...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose and kanaya’s daughter is also named vriska.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: WH8T????????</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and since you didn’t come to earth c with us, that means technically she was here first.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so that would make you...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: (vriska)?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That’s fucking un8ccepta8le!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry. but i think that’s probably just how it has to be.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): John, you accused me of talking nonsense, 8ut you’re the one not m8king any d8mn sense.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Where AM I?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why are you OLD?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why do Rose and Kanaya h8ve a DAUGHTER n8med after ME!?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, it’s because they thought you sacrificed your life heroically defeating lord english.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so they found a baby clone of you and named her in your honor.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: personally, i thought the whole thing sounded like bullshit?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but, you know. whatever makes them happy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John shrugs. (Vriska) remains frozen in her expression of horror, mouth agape. In the distance, the troll defenses take a shot at the human recon vessel. (Vriska) doesn’t flinch at the sound of a sonic cannon blasting off behind her. She slowly peels her hands from her face and glares at John as one of her eyes twitches at the corner.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ... </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That’s... </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Th8t’s the........</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Stupidest *F8CKING* thing I’ve ever heard!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i know! i tried to tell them.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: man, it’s been a while since we’ve agreed on something, hasn’t it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not to be nosy, but...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: DID you defeat lord english?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Of course not!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why do you think I’m so desperate to go 8ACK!?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): The 8attle was hitting its clim8x when I got hit in the head with... with... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) paws at her head wound, fingers numb and vision blurry. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wh8tever the fuck it was that hit me in the head!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She sways on her feet. John tries to steady her, but she slaps his hands away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you wanna see a doctor for that or something?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I w8nt to know what the fuck is GOING ON!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, sure.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so about fifteen years ago, jane started spreading all this xenophobic propaganda about trolls.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and eventually she and her corporation became so entrenched in financial dealings with basically every societal institution with power on earth c that she became this unstoppable lobbying monolith that can more or less tell the government what to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so now she may as well be writing all of these xenophobic policies into law directly.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, jane’s a huge xenophobe, by the way?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i probably should have started out with that fact.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): John, this story fucking sucks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, and then karkat had this really catastrophic breakup with jade and dave, so he ran off to spearhead a troll rebellion against the xenophobic government. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: to be honest, the rebellion was pretty lame in the beginning, but then, um... meenah? </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Meenah?!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah! meenah. she fell out of the sky, like you just did, and helped him actually get good at revolutionary stuff.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so now both sides are all maxed out with space ships and weapons and stuff, and are on the brink of war.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Holy shit. That’s even dumber than Rose and Kanaya naming their shitty kid after me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh man, their kid IS shitty. you have NO idea.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): How the hell did you all fuck this up so much????????</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s my bad.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): YOUR 8ad?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah. i made the wrong decision and totally blew it.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): HOW?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was supposed to go fight lord english, but i didn’t. so now we’ve gone beyond, like, the event horizon of canon.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What the fuck does that even MEAN????????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John sighs and sweeps an arm across the landscape. The sky darkens as the first of the troll fleet roars onto the frontline. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know, really.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose explained it all to me once, but i pretty much forgot what she said. i didn’t actually think it was that important at the time.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: all i know is that all of this is my fault. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s been turning around in my head like this for a while. i thought... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why does everything here fucking SUCK so much?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how the hell did we even make it from point A to point festering clusterfuck?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it doesn’t follow any kind of logic i understand, or any sort of basic sense i have about who we are as people...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and why? why have we all ended up so unhappy and... twisted up?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i got everything i wanted. everyone got what they— </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what <em>i</em> thought they wanted. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and that’s just it, isn’t it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the more i think about it, i’m the only factor that matters to anything.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whatever i did, or didn’t do, just... destroyed reality’s ability to, like, substantiate itself, or whatever.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like there’s a bug in the operating system of whatever force in this world that regulates cause and effect.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everything’s been unraveling. nothing that happens makes sense anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and now i’m the only person out here who’s even real at all!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hahahaha.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Hahahahahahahaha... Wow, I’ve never seen a guy get his 8ulge all the way down his own swallow chute 8efore!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait, what?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Good fuck. Do you actually think reality gives that much of a shit a8out you?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Get real, Eg8ert.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s not like you’re <em>me</em>.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, well.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s fair i guess.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but whatever it was that caused this, it’s pretty obvious that all of this is just kind of dumb and fake.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so don’t worry about it.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I kind of H8VE to worry a8out, it considering you just expl8ined to me that I’m TR8PPED here!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nah, it’s fine. it’ll all work out.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or it won’t. it doesn’t really matter either way.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) clenches her hands into fists so tight her nails draw blood, and hisses out a long, vicious expletive. Around her, the ground begins to shake as the human fleet of batterpanzers roll out from the edge of the city and take position. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, so we should probably get out of here soon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or not. we’re both god tier, so as long as we don’t do anything cool or evil, i guess we’ll be fine and not permanently die.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hehe... it’s almost like the god tier rules were designed to reward us for being useless pieces of shit?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heheheheh. i think i get it now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s a pretty good joke actually. nice.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): FFFFFFFFUCK!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, hey. that reminds me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: did you ever see terezi out there?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No????????</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why would I h8ve seen Terezi? Didn’t she go with the Striders to fight six hundred versions of J8ck or something?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, yeah. but then later, she went back out there to find you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: (vriska), she searched for you for YEARS!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, years from my perspective at least. i dunno about hers.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but, we used to talk sometimes. it was fucked up how sad she was without you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t even know what happened to her. the last time i talked to her she... she thought she was about to die.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: for a long time i liked to pretend that maybe you two found each other after all. but if you’re here now, and she isn’t, that means... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh, who knows what it means.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wow. John, you sound pretty 8roken up a8out this! Were you in love with her or something?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John laughs sadly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: well... i don’t know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what does it even matter!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like everything else, it was just some more stupid crap that happened, which technically wasn’t even “canon.”</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh my fucking god.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I CAN’T T8KE THIS ANYM8RE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) screams in frustration and throws her arms in the air. Her piercing voice can be heard over the roar of a hundred war-freighter engines. The bulk of Karkat and Meenah’s fleet has just arrived. Their ships are less sleek and imposing than Jane’s, most of them having been scavenged, patchworked, and jury-rigged. But they’re numerous enough to blot out the sun when they coast overhead. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t c8re a8out wh8tever the FUCK “c8non” is supposed to 8e!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t a8out your dum8, unrequited crush on Terezi!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t C8RE a8out this stupid, pointless w8r!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Someone get me the hell out of this fucking NIGHMT8RE 8efore I re8lly L8SE MY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WoAh, HeY, lEt’S aLl CaLm ThE mOtHeRfUcK dOwN.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John and (Vriska) both turn to see a gangly figure emerging from the dust kicked up by Jane’s tank platoon. Gamzee’s hair is caked with dirt, his makeup is smudged, and he’s sucking on his milk bottle in the style of some smooth hombre in a spaghetti western mouthing a cigar. He tugs the rubber nipple out of his mouth with a pop. The chalky, viscous milk forms a goatee of spittle on his chin.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: VrIsKa My MaIn BiTcH, lOnG tImE nO sEe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU SeEm aLl dIsCoMbObUlAtEd tHeRe, SiStEr. JuSt fUcKiN BeSeT WiTh tHe pOoRlY ReGuLaTeD EmOtIoNs tHaT CaUsE a MoThErFuCkEr nOtHiNg bUt pAiN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: NoW WhY DoN’T LeT’S CaLm tHe fUcK DoWn, TaKe rIpS OfF ThIs dOpE BoTtLe oF FrEsH AsS TiTtYdAiRy, ThEn sHoOt ThE WiCkEd sHiT AbOuT ThE GoOd wOrD.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): The... the “Good Word”?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: It bE CaLlEd rEdEmPtIoN, mOtHeRfUcKeR!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AnD YoU GoTtA GeT ThAt sHiT LoCkEd aLl tIgHt iN WhErE YoUr hEaRt’s aT, tO GeT YoUr mOrAl cOmPrOmIsAtIoNs tO ChIlL ThE FuCk uP.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: CaUsE I CaN’T ThInK Of a sInGlE NoThEr mOtHeRfUcKeR WhO CoUlD UsE A RiGhTeOuS DoSe oF ThAt sWeEt, SwEeT ReDeMpTiOn rIgHt dOwN ThE ShAmE HaTcH MoRe tHaN (vRiSkA) mOtHeRfUcKiNg (SeRkEt). :o)</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ... </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ... </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) casts a wide glare at the intruding clown with steely, merciless eyes. Slowly, she stalks towards him, her feet pressing so heavily in the soft earth she might as well weigh a thousand pounds. Gamzee suckles at his bottle and beams at her with the complacency of a man perfectly oblivious to the one-way ticket to the world of shit his big mouth just bought for him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wh8t the F8CK did you just s8y to me?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!</p>
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            32
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">(V</span>riska) grabs Gamzee by the front of his shirt and yanks him down, her hot, furious breath brushing his disgusting face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I sAiD tO yOu YoU gOtTa ChIlL, yO.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: It’S hIgH tImE yOu GoT yOuR rEdEmPtIoN oN.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: sEe, YoU gOtS tO mAkE sOmE mOtHeRfUcKiN aMeNdS tO yOuR tRaGiC bAcKsToRy. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): My WH8T????????</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HoNk. :o)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) looks into his eyes. She beholds his serene expression and the casual sag of his shoulders. His posture is so contemptibly flaccid, it’s as if he’s literally wilting. Her gaze travels to where his weird, long fingers are wrapped around the curve of her shoulder. His hand is sticky for some reason. She notices a few strands of her black hair clinging to whatever heinous substance is coating his hand. It’s an image so viscerally objectionable to her that she nearly vomits. After all she’s been through today, this... THIS is the last goddamned straw. Her eyes fill with fury, with indignation, with vivid, radiating malevolence, and then it finally happens. </p>
    <p>She just. Plain. Fucking.</p>
    <p>SNAPS.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Don’t you daaaaaaaare</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) clenches her fists together and slams them into Gamzee’s nose. A brutal Double Axe Handle right off the hook. His nose makes a crunching sound like someone just stepped on a pile of crackers. He stumbles backward, cupping his palms over his face to catch the gush of blood.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): FUCK8NG touch me</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) grabs him under the armpit and delivers a European-style Uppercut with her bloody elbow. He expels a wheezy, guttered honk. It comes out slowly, mournfully, like a broken bike horn getting backed over by the rear wheel of a hearse. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): EVVVVVVVVER</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She spins out from under his flailing arm and does a full 360-degree pirouette off the fucking handle to deliver a ruthless Knife Chop straight to the cartilage at the center of his chest, like a veteran butcher getting down to business.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): AG88888888IN!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: :o(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee tries to get his bearings, but (Vriska)’s spinning back in the other direction with a Discus Back Elbow. Her elbow connects with his cheekbone hard enough that it shatters. A sharp tooth goes flying out of his puckered lips so fast that John has to take flight to avoid it. (Vriska) takes a crow’s hop back, grounding herself to swing a lead-legged kick right into his chin. Gamzee goes flying into a nearby tree. The first branch splinters under the impact of his spine. He gets clotheslined backward by the second one, spins around it and face-plants on a hard root under the tree.</p>
    <p>John winces, but not sympathetically. The impact was just that rough. That HAD to crack a rib or two.</p>
    <p>(Vriska) stalks over to Gamzee and triumphantly lifts him off the ground, high above her head, only to drop him and slam her knee into his face again. His lip splits, staining her jeans bright purple. He’s rolling from side to side on the ground, groaning as blood bubbles up from his mouth. It sounds like he’s drowning. (Vriska) drags him to his feet again, her hands fisted in his shirt. With an impressive maneuver, hard for the eye to follow unless you’re a trained wrestler, she adroitly twists a hand in his hair and Reverse Hangmans him against the tree branch. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HONK!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): WHY WON’T YOU JUST</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She slams his throat against the branch again and again. Each time he lets out a sound like a damaged squeeze toy, his bloated, slimy tongue unspooling like a frog’s as all the air is crushed out of his esophagus. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): D8EEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Shouting like a berserker, (Vriska) perpetrates a textbook Groinal Clawhold around Gamzee’s codpiece and rips it right the fuck off. He yowls as if he had actual testicles to be mauled, and for all anyone knows, maybe he really does. He paws the air desperately and fecklessly after his treasured purple dick-sock, but (Vriska) tosses it over her shoulder and shoves him into the mud with her heel. She grabs Gamzee by the hood, pulls him up, and then grinds the top of her shoe along the ridge of his broken nose, rubbing her laces into his eyes.</p>
    <p>Ah yes, John pauses his wince to admire, the good old Bootlace Eyerake. Jake loved that one back in the day, even though he had much more practice with the receiving end of it.</p>
    <p>Gamzee grabs (Vriska)’s foot by the bridge. Instead of yanking her off-balance, he opens his huge, bloody maw of a mouth and... runs his tongue along the rubber bottom of her shoe? (Vriska) freezes. She watches him lap the mud—and his own blood—out from between the grooves of the sole. His lips drag lewdly over the ridge of her footwear and begin sucking at where her big toe would be, if it were not safely ensconced in several layers of rubber and canvas. He draws back, a string of glutinous, tinted saliva connecting the shoe to his lip, and catches (Vriska)’s eyes with his own half-lidded gaze. His face is bruised, bloody, swollen. His makeup is a nightmarish disaster. But the expression he’s giving her is unmistakable. It’s not fear, not rage, not even pain. It’s...  </p>
    <p>Lust. </p>
    <p>(Vriska) goes perfectly still, absolutely paralyzed by the sudden recognition. For several seconds, she doesn’t dare move a muscle.</p>
    <p>And then, quite suddenly, (Vriska) reaches a plateau of rage so intense, so pure, that she isn’t even seeing straight anymore. She howls like a storm cresting over the ocean, drowning out the sound of the human government’s tanks firing their first volley over the battlefield. She lunges at Gamzee’s catastrophic face lips-first, and practically dives into his mouth, ramming her tongue into his lewd, gaping maw like she’s questing for prizes at a carnival. They roll over each other, groping, tearing, tongue-lashing, and vanish into the underbrush. </p>
    <p>Gamzee’s unwashed stench is so bad, the motion of him being knocked into the dirt wafts it in John’s direction. The stink hits him like an olfactory haymaker, and he does a full 180 to dry heave into the impact crater. </p>
    <p>Mercifully, John’s attention is caught by someone calling his name from above. He has never felt so grateful for an excuse to look away from anything in his life.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John, up here!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I need to speak with you!</p>
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            33
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ohn looks up to see Rose waving at him while hanging out the hatch of a troll cruiser. John tries to smile at her, but all he can muster is a weird, queasy expression. Rose looks glad to see him anyway. She drops to the ground when the modest cruiser comes in for a landing, followed out, regrettably, by her daughter, Vriska.</p>
    <p>Shit. John flies up to greet them, more quickly than he would ordinarily in a situation where he wasn’t trying to divert his friend’s and her teenage daughter’s attentions away from a couple making out in a bush. He dips forward like he’s going in to hug Vriska (to her apparent surprise, due to his historical complete lack of desire for any physical contact to be made between them), but instead uses his momentum to spin her all the way around so that her back is facing the cursed shrubbery in the distance.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Whoa! Hey, Old Man.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey vriska, hey rose. nice to see you both! </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John, I—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John and Rose appear equally surprised themselves when Vriska hauls him in to seal the deal with a crushing hug of her own.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha. geez! hi vriska!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Hi John!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this is great. just great. hey, why don’t we just go over here to talk, for like. no reason at all? ha ha.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: O... kay? If that’s what you want.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah, it’s the thing i want most. the view on the other side of this ship is just... AMAZING. trust me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose cocks an eyebrow at him. Behind her, the bush releases a strangled, lusty honk. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Was that...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Nevermind. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Vriska, why don’t you go and help your mother with the deployments?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: UGH. I can’t 8elieve I have to Actually Listen to you now that we’re At War.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Run along now, dear.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Thankfully, Vriska heeds her mother’s command and heads back to the cruiser. Rose tries to glance back toward the source of the suspicious honk, but John pulls her behind the ship, beyond audible range of the activity taking place in the offensive bush. </p>
    <p>On this side of the cruiser, troops are departing the hold in single-file efficiency. They’re all decked out in full Alternian military garb. It’s the cool, Tron-looking stuff with the luminescent cording that matches their blood colors. Rose is wearing it too, John notices, in black and lavender. He gives her a concerned look up and down, then holds out his hands, palms up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... i guess this war is really happening?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I understand that you don’t want to be involved, and I respect your decision. However, I wanted to speak with you before we left.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, thanks. i actually appreciate that a lot.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i would have been pretty bummed if you went off to your potential doom without saying goodbye.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: now that i think about it, that’s how this all started, isn’t it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you were so sick that it looked like you were dying, and i was about to leave on a perilous mission. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but now, here we are.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s almost like...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the circle of stupidity is complete?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose laughs. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t be ridiculous John. Nothing is complete.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There is no true ending or beginning in this scenario.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ha ha. yeah, right. because this is real life, right?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess reading narrative relevance into a bunch of dumb and totally random events is kind of lame and childish. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No, that isn’t what I meant at all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: By all means, apply a narrative to our lives. Up until a certain point, it would have been perfectly accurate to do so.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But not anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because... it’s not canon, right?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Do you remember what I told you years ago? About the three pillars of canon?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John strokes his chin and thinks very hard on this. Maybe too long, because Rose sighs and taps the bridge of his spectacles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: “No” is a perfectly valid answer to that question, John. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just didn’t want to make it look like i don’t pay attention to your wordy philosophical babble!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I philosophically babble rather a lot, or at least I used to. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It would be unfair of me to expect you to retain nearly three decades of oblique technical jargon regarding the metaphysics of the reality in which we inhabit.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow, we’ve known each other a long time.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, we have.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Well.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It would be more accurate to say that we both have and haven’t known each other a long time.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: As I explained to you on that morning sixteen years ago, there are three critical features of canon: essentiality, relevance, and truth.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We have been untethered from the mooring of “truth” for some time now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So while we, in our subjective experiences of conscious perception, feel in this moment that we have known each other for a very long time, technically it’s not true at all.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Contemplating the vastness of that statement makes John feel suddenly very small and sad. He shuts his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh my god, rose. it’s too early in the day for this.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I agree.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And besides, that’s not what I wished to speak to you about.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Look at me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose wraps her narrow hands around John’s arms and pulls him gently toward her. He cracks his eyes open to see her face glimmering in the late morning sun. Her eyes are glossy and bright in the gleaming light.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I want to thank you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: for... for what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: didn’t i fuck everything up by not going to fight lord english?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s my fault we’re all living in this meaningless hell world where everyone’s vaguely out of their minds, and we’re all about to go to war over... freeing prisoners from the whipping cream camps!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, whatever.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The war is just as irrelevant as everything else that’s happened here in the last decade and a half.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: At least with a conflict, we have something to DO.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Something to strive for and against. Something to believe in.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m thankful for that. But more than anything, John, I’m thankful that I got a chance to be happy.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I never... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose pauses meaningfully, as if the realization is falling into place as she says it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I never thought I would actually get to be happy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose... you weren’t happy before?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when you married kanaya? before you got sick? when we were all together?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose shakes her head. She brushes past John, out toward the open field, away from the brewing battle. The land is so flat that it rushes out to meet the horizon uninterrupted for miles and miles. Rose is a pale flame against the brilliant haze of a perfect Earth C morning. </p>
    <p>John doesn’t follow after her. He lets her compose herself privately with her back to him. She clasps her hands in front of her and raises her head to look at the perfectly blue sky with its perfect sun and its perfect clouds, unmarred by the dark storm brewing on the planet below.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In Complacency of th—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She corrects herself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In the silly wizard story I wrote when I was a child,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The realm most comparable to heaven existed in a state of subliminal conditionality, dependent on the inscience of the individual experiencing it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Which is to say that it would cease to exist the moment you realized what it was.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And so, those with knowledge could never truly be happy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John looks at his hands. The same hands that held Harry Anderson when he was a baby. The same hands that tore up Terezi’s photograph just a few hours ago. The same hands that remember steadying Rose on her sickbed sixteen years ago, and the shaking feeling they’d awoken with that morning: a subharmonic symphony that can only be heard in the bones. All things that remain “true” to him. Knowledge of what came before his choice, and then after. There are things that he can’t forget. That he won’t forget. Is this the reason he’s felt like this for so many years?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But that isn’t me anymore.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I am blind against the veil of this world.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s all ambrosia to me.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t care if it’s not true. I care even less if it’s not canon.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I have a beautiful wife who I love more than I thought possible, and a daughter who I am immeasurably proud of. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It can all be senseless, ephemeral noise that dissolves in the void. A whisper swept up by the wind before it’s uttered.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m still grateful to have felt this way.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So, John...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose turns around, smiling. The smile is calm and honest. Her eyes are perfectly clear. There is no other word that could possibly do justice to her expression. She looks happy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Thank you.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She comes forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. John wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulls her into a tight hug, and breathes in the scent of her hair. Whatever the truth of the matter is, she still feels tangible and real to him. What does it mean to be real, anyway?</p>
    <p>Around them, the first wave of bombs start to go off. Bright pinpricks of light and dark that flash and flame out, leaving a nanosecond of absolute, dead silence in their wake.</p>
    <p>John’s laughing when they part. They’re enveloped in a cloud of smoke and dirt so thick that they can barely see each other. Despite what Rose said about there being no ends or beginnings for them anymore, it feels very final. And in that moment, he thinks he understands. Finality was always up to him. </p>
    <p>He finally decides to allow it.</p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            34
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Hey, Harry Anderson, guess where I am!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what???</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: who is this? i can’t hear you!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska cups her hand around the receiver of her phone and shouts over the artillery barrage.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It’s ME, idiot! The HOT 8A8E you’re lucky enough to h8ve gotten to second 8ase with!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: oh hi vriska!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what’s up?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I Implored You To GUESS WHERE I 8M!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: uh. hmm. based on the horrible racket in the background, i’m gonna guess... the battle outside the city?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ha HA! I TOLD you my moms were going to Hook Me The Fuck Up with a sweet milit8ry commission!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m officially in the rebellion, Sucker!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: ugh. i’m watching the battle out my window right now. are you SURE it’s safe for you to be out there, vriska?</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i’d kind of hate it if you died before we got to third base.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Pfft, yeah, wh8tever. I’m basically Immortal, bitch.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m gonna 8reeze through here like a High Money Roller getting sweepstakes at the 8lackj8ck table!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: you should probably actually gamble once in your life before you try to make gambling metaphors, babe. because that was dire.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Uh, excuse you, but Tavros tot8lly snuck me into Uncle Jake’s poker game last month. It was Immoderately LIT.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: wait. are you still hate dating tavros?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Uhhhhhhhh... yeah? Why wouldn’t I be??</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: aw man. he’s so pathetic.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah, that’s The Point, Harry Anderson.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: how do you stand kissing him? he’s so weird. and always mysteriously sticky for some reason.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: PLEASE tell me you haven’t gone to third base with him.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: A girl Does Not kiss and tell, Harry de8rest. ::::)</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: okay well as long as you don’t touch me after feeling up his weird, clammy body.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m not going to get a chance to feel either of you up for A While, considering I’m now an Important 8aller in Karkat and Meenah’s 8adass Revolutionary Army.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh, I asked if they could squeeze you in. They s8id they were JUST out of openings. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Sorry Dude! Lol.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: did you just call me to brag?</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what else is going on out there?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ugh, who knows.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh. your DAD is here.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: what?!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i thought he didn’t want anything to do with the war?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah, well, he S8YS that, but he’s here right now and my mom’s saying a bunch of G8y Shit to him. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: They’re hugging and Reminiscing a8out how Old And Sad they are or wh8tever.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: huh... </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What?</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i really thought that my father might come see me for my birthday this year.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Welp! </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Them’s The Br8ks, Kid.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: man.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: you can be such a shitty girlfriend sometimes.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: May8e I’m inspired to be a Less Than Ideal M8tesprit when I’m in the presence of WEAKNESS? Ever consider that??</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: unbelievable.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Hey I’m just fucking with you! Don’t 8e such a 8a8y a8out it. It’s a tot8l turnoff.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m sure your d8d cares a8out you very much. Maybe chill out?</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yeah whatever.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: he’s always getting all weepy whenever i talk to him anyway. </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i don’t think i could have taken another round of him choking back tears while apologizing to me about “what happened with me and your mother, harry.”</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, god. he’s not even fucking DRUNK when he does this.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: that might actually be the most embarrassing part.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah, lmao. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Now th8t you mention it, I think he’s actually crying right now?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I think I can overhear...  </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: W8it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska stops trying to eavesdrop on John’s blubbering for a moment. She’s distracted by another noise. She whips her head around to detect an all-too-familiar sound echoing above the post-bombing silence. It’s a sound that she knows from hard-won experience can mean only one thing.</p>
    <p>There’s a clown nearby.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I think I hear...  </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: GAMZEE??</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: gamzee? my auntie jane’s gamzee?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yes! Who ELSE could I mean?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: He’s around here somewhere.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: so what? i see him every day. he sucks.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: So WH8T?! He’s like, Jane’s left hand man!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: no, he’s “neutral,” remember?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: That’s not how Comm8nder Vantas feels.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: He says he’s a total 8astard. A Tr8itor To His Kind.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yawn.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The dust is beginning to settle around Vriska’s ankles. She scans the tree line and brings all her attention to bear on this curious rhythm of noises coming from nearby, beckoning from the underbrush. She pushes toward it through the thorny shrubbery.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: There’s a bounty out for his arrest! D8mn, they’ll probably put him in front of a tribunal if we can get our hands on him!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: oh, i changed my mind. this sounds good actually.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: invite me to the execution, please?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: If I could c8pture the High Fucking Priest Makara they’d promote me to, like, third in command of the whole joint!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Fuck YE8H!</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: well. </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: good luck with all that. </p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: call me if you wanna hook up after the battle.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: N8turally!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John’s wiping away a tear with his sleeve when he catches sight of Vriska, innocently wandering toward the very bush where he’d just abandoned (Vriska) to sort out her confusing exhibition of unexpected and deeply profane lust. Now that the battle has stilled, he can overhear the vile melody of the blasphemous union.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There’s that noise again.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I knew I wasn’t imagining it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, no, no...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: VRISKA, WAIT, DON’T!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John runs to intervene, but it’s too late. Vriska pushes aside the last of the fronds separating her from her quarry with a triumphant Ha!</p>
    <p>Vriska’s huge, mischievous smile freezes on her face. When her eyes pass the image to her brain, and it finally makes sense of this incomprehensible jumble of gray limbs, blue and purple slop, tangled black hair, and stunned faces, her expression begins to slowly melt. It then drifts quickly, from phase to phase, to one of wonder, then anguish, and finally, abject horror.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh god.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska and (Vriska) both start shrieking at a pitch John’s only ever heard one time before. It was a sound that once accompanied the end of everything. A sound once heard the night he dreamt in anime.</p></div>
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            35
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md">
    <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--md" stylw="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="vriska">Vriska: Hey.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(Vriska): Sup.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "36": |-
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            36
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he moment John caught a proper glance of (Vriska) and Gamzee going at it in the bushes, he was done. He simply had no further capacity to deal with any of it. He just fucked off. </p>
    <p>A few hours of aimless wandering through the sky brought him back here, to his old house. He hasn’t lived here in years, but it feels exactly as it had when he last left it. It’s like no time has passed at all. John leans back in his dad’s desk chair, stares at the ceiling and listens to the war. </p>
    <p>The steady drone of weaponized airships up above has become so commonplace in everyday life that he barely even notices it anymore. But now he focuses, trying to pick out the individual sounds. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t tell which ship belongs to which side, or how many there are. He doesn’t know whether they’re coming or going. Rose, Kanaya, and their daughter are probably up there somewhere by now.</p>
    <p>The washing machine chugs along in the next room. In John’s experience, troll blood is incredibly difficult to wash out of clothes. His t-shirt is probably going to be Vriska-colored for the rest of its life. </p>
    <p>Somehow, no matter what, he always seems to end up back in this house. It’s been through the Medium and two different universes, and come out of it with only a slight warping to the foundations. Everything is coated in dust. He hasn’t bothered to turn any lights on, or change any of the bulbs that have burned out over the past few years. He thought he heard someone moving around upstairs a while ago, but he didn’t get up to check. He hasn’t gotten up for... how long has passed? He has no idea. </p>
    <p><em>Creak. Creaaaak.</em> God, this house is rattly. It could be a wild animal up there. It could be a thief. John doesn’t think he has anything he’d regret losing. At least not anything that he hasn’t already lost. </p>
    <p>His dad’s study looks the same as it had the day he moved out. Figurines, jauntily-hung photographs of famous funnymen, even the dent in the floor from the time Rose dropped a safe on a bunch of troublesome imps. He’d always meant to hire someone to fix it, he just... never got around to it. It’s the perfect room for a slow-motion existential crisis. </p>
    <p>If that’s what you can even call whatever it is he’s going through. Maybe it’s not so much of a crisis as a critical cessation of his ability to give a shit.</p>
    <p>Where an hour ago he’d been feeling blissfully unburdened by his solipsistic revelation, now the significance of everything’s insignificance overwhelms him. He wishes he could find comfort in the frivolity like Rose has, but it’s impossible for him to delude himself. If nothing matters, what is the point of doing anything? Where is he supposed to go from here? How do you figure out how to fill your time when you have all of a meaningless eternity ahead of you?</p>
    <p>He’s not sure why his brain thought he’d find an answer in this place. He swivels back and forth in his father’s dusty desk chair, staring listlessly up at the featureless white expanse of the ceiling of the study. His mind runs in exhausting circles until he dozes off to a lullaby of distant sonic booms.</p>
    <p>When next he’s jostled awake, it’s by a figure that looks uncomfortably like—</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: dad? </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">As John blinks away the sleep from his eyes, the man looming over him comes into focus. It’s not his dad—it’s Jake Crocker. Who actually is his dad, but in a far more esoterically bullshit way than the man who used to fill this study with pipes and black licorice. John sits up straight in the chair and rubs at his eyes. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: jake?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are you doing here?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wh– </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: HOW are you here?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: did something happen with jane?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh nothing er happened exactly. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Just thought we would pop in for a bit of r and r with an old pal isnt that right tav?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake scrunches up his face in the same way Harry Anderson does when he’s lying. Across the room, Tavros Crocker fumbles his grasp on a particularly hideous fanciful harlequin. One of its pointy shoes snaps off. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: Cripes,,, sorry, uncle john, </p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: I’ll replace it,,,</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s fine. that’s actually just a piece of garbage.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John thinks he might still be dreaming. Though if his subconscious were controlling the scene, there would be a few alterations. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: aren’t you cold? </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I am in fact!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: These old duds... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake snaps the elastic on his pair of red underpants. It’s the only thing he’s wearing. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well you see janey bought all my other clothes.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: She had a certain way she liked me kipped out and well, i didnt want to bring anything that belonged to her when i left. Nothing she er, might miss.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: You took me, </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake winces. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">TAVROS: And,,, you took you,</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s wince deepens. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Then i daresay i made the right choice not rustling the bushes in the making off with inanimate belongings department. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wouldnt want to give her any more reasons to get all retributive!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Shes got a lot to worry about right now! Incredibly busy woman you know.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Over by the desk, Tavros’s eyebrows have disappeared up under his bangs, but he doesn’t say anything. He has the air of a boy who has spent all of his life not saying anything. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: okay, so, uh...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess i’m just gonna move past the fact you’re 90% naked in my house.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not forgetting about it. we’ve got to address that at some point.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i guess we can put that on the backburner for now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you trying to tell me that you left jane?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Eh heh heh whew when you put it like that it sure sounds erm... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well i suppose that is what it looks like isnt it. Ha ha. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What i did that is. Thats the thing thats looking like that. Hoo... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake is one whole wince now, and John knows he should invite him to sit down and maybe offer  him something to drink. Or at least a pair of pants. But all this is is another reminder of how inescapably preposterous every aspect of this reality has become. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so i guess this is the thing that’s currently happening now. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what exactly do you want me to do?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well. I suppose i was hoping you might be willing to help me and wee tavvy out a bit here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: help you out?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John produces a dry laugh.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s pretty funny.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i remember trying to help you for years, and you never seemed that interested back then. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake was apparently not expecting John’s sharp tone. He flinches back like a kicked dog. Or a dog who has been kicked so many times he assumes any helping hand is a slap.</p>
    <p>All the same, John finds it hard to feel much sympathy. Who <em>is </em>Jake? The one standing in front of him now, anyway. Has he always been this contemptibly pathetic, or is this too a function of the absurdity of this contorted reality? It’s hard to be sure. Are Jake’s “struggles” worth any more of John’s guilt and emotional energy than a Sim stuck in a pool without a ladder?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Look here chap sometimes not everything is so simple!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: It isnt as if i couldve just walked out the door whenever i wished!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... yeah, you kind of could have.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not now. but years and years ago. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: back before everything got so...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Warlike and tempestuous?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was gonna say stupid, but yeah.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well its not as if janey got like this overnight.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: None of this happened overnight john!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its just like you go to take a dip in the water and everything starts out cool and fine...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But then it just keeps getting hotter and hotter. Gradually. Degree by degree.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So slowly that by the time the waters boiling you dont even realize youre being scalded alive!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John isn’t listening to Jake anymore. He’s looking at Jake’s son, who has returned to going methodically through the stuff on the desk, moving objects around, looking like he wants to shrink down into nothing. Tavros, who looks more like him than even Harry Anderson does. </p>
    <p>Something in John’s stomach churns. The ridiculous fate of this facsimile of his friend is one thing, but Tavros...</p>
    <p>If things really are the way they seem, isn’t <em>he</em> John’s fault, too? Did his reckless decision really author a <em>child</em>, just for it to suffer?</p>
    <p>John finds himself feeling a little sick.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you guys... i don’t know, hungry, or whatever? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i have a frozen pizza. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He brings them into the kitchen, which still has all of the old appliances from decades ago—the stand mixer, the automatic can opener, the milkshake frother. He never uses any of this junk; it clutters the place up and he should have cleaned it all out years ago. He just kept coming up with excuses for why he had to leave it as it was.</p>
    <p>John has never been much of a drinker, but fortunately Jake English is never found without a bottle these days. He’s got a forty-year-old whiskey that he “grabbed on his way out.” Apparently his unwillingness to steal from Jane did not extend to her liquor cabinet. Tavros takes one look at the bottle in his father’s hand and heads upstairs. Maybe that’s for the best—it’s getting hard for John to look straight at him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry for being... i don’t know. a bitch.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s just been kind of a rough forever.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No offense taken chap! Whisky?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: As you may know im not in truth the biggest fan of the stuff but it gets the job done right quick eh.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John accepts the offered glass and takes a sip. Regardless of the existential status of this reality, the alcohol tastes just as harsh and bitter as he remembers it. Jake swirls the rocks in his glass, looking queasy despite his proclamation of tolerance.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: John.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Do you think im a bad person?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">That’s certainly not a question John ever expected to hear come out of Jake’s mouth. He hadn’t thought him capable of that degree of introspection. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait. what?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Do you think ive ruined my whole entire life and all of my relationships and especially the most important relationship in ones life, the divine and unbreakable bond between a man and his son?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not sure if i’m the best person to talk to about this, considering i kind of did the same thing?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but, no. i don’t really think that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s not as if anything that’s happened to you is your fault, like, existentially.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or like, even non-existentially. i guess even in straightforward non-metatextual-jerkoff terms it’s also not your fault your wife was treating you like shit?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it may be all my fault in both an existential and non-existential capacity, so i wouldn’t sweat it too much either way.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Eh? What do you mean?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think you’d really understand.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: all i’m saying is...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re alright, i think.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think you’re doing the best you can.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t blame you for anything, jake.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake grimaces. In the dim kitchen light his five o’clock shadow looks like a bruise. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I wish i could tell you hearing that was a load off my mind john.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The me of yesteryear probably would have drunk to your health and exclaimed, thats grand ole chap! Now im off to wrestle with a robot and engage in dalliances and whatnot!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Except i would have been drinking flat cherry coke back then probably. Gran left an astounding amount of cherry coke behind when she died and it took forever to get through it all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s pretty gross.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Different strokes for different folks i suppose!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Anyway my point is...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Maybe you should blame me?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Maybe i need someone to blame me. For once.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...huh?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I think im starting to realize that ive been going through life with the mindset that nothing has ever really been within my control. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Maybe its been the people i surround myself with.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Janey always seemed so sure of what was right and what she wanted!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And one of those things was me.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I dont think i ever really tried to challenge her. Not when it ever mattered.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And before her there was dirk.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Hoo boy. Dirk would have written me out an annotated schedule for every minute of my day if id asked him to.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Or um, especially if i hadnt asked him to.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dirk... he...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ah maybe its best if we dont dwell too much on that...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The two of them share a moment of obligatory silence for someone long dead and gone.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: In a way i think i found all that comforting. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Havent you ever wanted to let someone make the tough choices for you? </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John wonders if everything being out of his control would make him feel better. Even if he weren’t presently stuck sucking on this bitter cosmic red pill, he can’t imagine being particularly happy with this worldstate. Maybe it just would’ve made it all the more soul-crushing.</p>
    <p>Or maybe he is doing exactly what Jake has always done. In a certain light, isn’t ascribing all this mess to some unconscious influence he might have had over the metaphysical shape of reality just a way to brush off his simpler failures as a man and a father? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe. yeah. i dunno.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im starting to think ive been a bit of a fool about it all though. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its easy to shrug it all off when its just your own life being jostled about.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But this is all something i shouldve been thinking about when ole tavvy was born isnt it?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Too little too late.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ive not done right by that boy at all.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Even now all im doing is making excuses for myself. Phew!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s hard for John to disagree. It probably wouldn’t do much good to say it, though. It’s not like John wants to torture the guy, whatever the status of his realness attribute.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: jake, i guess i actually don’t know you that well, but i think there’s a difference between making excuses and just giving reasons.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s reasons for what you did, sure. and i guess you can think of it as an excuse, but that’s only if you don’t make the effort to start trying to fix yourself. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i mean... okay, look. you left. you’re doing it. you’re making it happen! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you got your son out of there. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: better a decade late than never. i guess.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You... youre right john!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I did do that didnt i.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Nobody swooped in through the window and rescued me.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I did it myself! I finally stood up for whats right and im going to make way for a new and better me! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I have my immortal life ahead of me. Theres no point in sitting around hating myself and regretting the past! </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John’s mouth open and closes dumbly. That’s it?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: thought it would be harder to convince you?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake grins, and the effect is incendiary. It’s brilliant. His glee is lighting up the room. John blinks. It’s <em>literally</em> lighting up the room. A faint but steady glow pulses from Jake’s body, radiating like heat from a fire. John can’t help but recoil a little, like a vampire in the sunlight.</p>
    <p>He wishes bitterly that it could be so easy for <em>him</em>. To just forget all his fears and regrets, and forge forward with the honest, dumb conviction that if he just <em>tries hard enough</em> all his problems can be chased away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Golly john, i– </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gee willikers, do you hear that?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Music swells out of nowhere. For a moment John thinks the ridiculous noise is coming from Jake too, but he quickly pieces together that Tavros must’ve found the old record player upstairs. Jake sets his untouched glass of whiskey aside and starts tapping his fingertips on the kitchen countertop, his aura of hope pulsing brighter. Then, with a dignified flourish, he raises an arm. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: John. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Take my hand. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what? why? </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake snatches John’s hand and pulls him in, catching him off guard. John floats, an instinctive reaction to when he’s knocked off balance. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dance with me! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, jesus christ.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This is not the sort of jazz you dance to, and it is <em>definitely</em> not the sort of jazz you waltz to. John isn’t sure there <em>is</em> that type of jazz. Jake leads relentlessly, but it’s the glow of his ridiculous god tier magic that brings John down enough for his feet to touch the ground. Whether John wants it or not, there’s something inescapably infectious about Jake’s senselessly optimistic energy. Even if they do end up stepping on each other’s feet, gamboling around like newborn giraffes, who cares? What’s the harm in a little dancing?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im excited, john! I havent been excited in such a long time. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its just so great to be out on my own! Here with you after so long!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You and me and tav, gosh were going to make such a team! Two crockers and an egbert!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: A cracking good comedy to be sure. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Heck. Perhaps ill take back my good old name back! Who knows, maybe tav would want to be an english too!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: This place is a bit smaller than wee tavvy is used to but im sure well make do. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you want to move in with me?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh yes i suppose id ought run the plans by you first before letting my imagination run wild eh.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im sure i could find somewhere else to stay. But i must say i do feel much safer bringing tav up with family!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake launches into a real doozy of a spin, which John supposes may well have knocked the last of his sense out of him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: sure. why the hell not.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake gives John a twirl, which sends him spinning across the floor in his socks. He stumbles and falls over, which is a bit of a comical display with his windy reflexes. It makes Jake laugh uproariously.</p>
    <p>Being flung from Jake’s orbit of Hope and Change is a little like being dashed with a bucket of ice water, though. All of John’s gloom and malaise surges back to the fore like air filling a vacuum. He feels hungover.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oof...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John lies immobile on the floor tile. Jake draws up to look down at him in confusion, striking a pose that is both dazzlingly modelesque and doubtlessly completely unintentional.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Eh? What are you looking so glum for there chap?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, you know. the usual. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Do you need help getting up?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m cool down here, on the floor.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You know john. Maybe wed ought embark upon this journey of self-betterment together!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What do you say my boy?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I got my tavvy out. Have you been thinking about making amends with roxy and such? Maybe give her the push she needs to get out herself?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not really.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And why in the hell not!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like i said, you wouldn’t really understand.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think there’s really much of a point in me trying to talk to roxy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she’s not... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Shes not what?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John hauls himself up to his feet and moves to the living room. Jake follows, but John now ensures that’s there’s a healthy enough physical distance between himself and Jake’s black hole of psychic optimism.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You cant rightly go and blame the woman for all your troubles john.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not blaming her at all.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Then what ARE you saying johnnyboy?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John sighs and drops down onto the couch. He stretches out so Jake can’t take the seat beside him. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: that even if i COULD talk to her and try to set things straight... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why bother?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she may not even be, like, real. strictly speaking.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Eh?!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like i said. you wouldn’t understand.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: trust me. it’s all a whole lot of crazy stuff.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Youre right. That is an awfully crazy thing to say!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Not real? Why i just saw roxy yesterday!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Shes as solid and real a person as you or i john. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its hardly becoming of a man to say something so dismissive even if its tough to know what a lady is thinking from time to time.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Whats that now?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i fucked up too bad, too long ago.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s just too late to change anything now.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So what if it doesnt change anything? Wont it matter to your family to see you care?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wont it make you feel better to try?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: To at least be able to say that when the chips were down, you gave it your honest all?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And what about harry anderson? Do you really want to go the rest of your long life knowing you never tried to be the father your son needed?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Hearing the name is like a blow to the chest. Little Harry Anderson. His son, who he held and fed and taught and raised into a young man. Despite it all, he’s always been so unbelievably proud of that boy. </p>
    <p>If Roxy isn’t real, then his son must be even faker. </p>
    <p>Something about the thought makes John feel more rotten than anything else. Maybe it’s some aspect of his basic biology, buried down at the core of his lizard brain, that makes him want to reject what he knows is true. The allure of the denial—of the anaesthetic hope radiating from Jake’s epically sculpted body—is difficult to turn away from. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: My word john. Are you... crying?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jake, do you have roxy’s number?</p>
    </div></div>
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            37
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">B</span>ecause (Vriska) only spent a few minutes on Prospit before her dream self was whisked away to the Battlefield the moment she ascended to her god tier form, she never exactly got to enjoy Prospit life as much as some of her friends did. Which by all accounts involved a lot of leisure time—floating around, lounging about on golden crenellations, and looking at pretty much the only thing there was to look at on Prospit: the big blue sphere full of prescient clouds known as Skaia. She’s certain Terezi must have spent more than her share of time ogling the fluffy nimbus forms, or sniffing in their direction at least. </p>
    <p>This must have been what life on Prospit felt like, (Vriska) thinks, as she adjusts her head to a slightly more comfortable position on the fresh clown carcass she’s now using as a pillow. She lets out a long exhale, feeling more relaxed than she’s felt in a long time. The clouds aren’t showing her any visions, but that’s okay. She realizes you can see whatever you want to see in a cloud, if you spend a long enough time looking at its shape. All that’s really required is a willingness to let yourself waste the time. A willingness she only just discovered minutes ago, since wringing the life from a libidinous harlequin.  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I think that one is...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): A sort of snake?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): A snake with a strangely 8ig head. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Nah, it’s a pipe.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): A what?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It’s a Thing you Smoke with.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You mean, like, the human marijuana I’ve heard Dave ram8le a8out sometimes?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: God.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You Really Did grow up on an Alien Planet, didn’t you.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Yes, as a matter of fact I did.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I’m from the world which was home to the race you yourself are apparently a mem8er of.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah 8ut I’m actually Normal?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: No Offense.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): None taken. You’re a lot like me, really.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I mean, unsurprisingly? This shouldn’t 8e shocking news.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You just kinda remind me of my mom.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Not in Many ways, I just mean you say shit that makes it O8vious this isn’t where you grew up.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): How is Kanaya, 8y the way?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Um. 8oring?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: And Old.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Old and 8oring as Fuck.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Hahahaha.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Sounds a8out right.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I mean, Older Than Us, 8y a lot.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: 8ut you knew her when you were the same age, so...</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: That’s why I said that? Fuck it. She’s like, Regular. A 8asic Ass Mom.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: She’s fine, I like her. 8oth my moms are alright.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: They’re a little o8sessed with all this War Shit though.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh yeah?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Old people get hella 8ent out of shape a8out War And Politics.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Same shit as always.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You’re right. I guess that’s how it was in my culture too.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska doesn’t seem to have a response to this. Her parents have told her many tales of Alternia, and her curiosity about the subject was satiated some time before she entered high school. She shrugs and turns her attention back to the sky. Another nimbus cloud wanders lazily into view, and catches (Vriska)’s eye due to its peculiar shape.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That one there.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That’s... some sort of squat, can-like 8uilding, right?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Like the ridiculous structures my friends used to 8uild with the Mayor.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Hey, is the Mayor still around?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: The Mayor’s dead, dude.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Shit!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I loved the Mayor.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Everyone loved the Mayor.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: He’s in our damn history 8ooks.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wow.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut you see what I mean, right? That one!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Lol, you don’t know Anything.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Kinda cute, actually.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What?? Then what is it, smartass.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It’s a cake.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): ........</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: A 8irthday cake. See? Those are candles.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It’s so o8vious.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh! Like those shitty things John’s dad was always making?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Guess so.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What’s with all the clouds shaped like John stuff?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Like that one there. That’s... a 8ig dollop of “shaving cream,” right?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ummmmmmmm, nah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: That’s just a normal cloud I think.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Fine, 8ad example. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut THAT one. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That’s DEFINITELY a human hat.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh yeah, it totally is.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Just a fuckin’ Sky Hat. Right there.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Is Earth C always like this?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I dunno, I never noticed.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) scans the sky. She notices a few more John-specific cloud shapes. A ghost over there. A beagle puss just overhead. But the more she stares at them, the more she realizes her ability to recognize the shapes is beginning to fade. They start to resemble fluffy, amorphous blobs. Was it all just in her imagination?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): May8e this is just crazy nonsense, actually.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Seeing shapes in clouds, I mean.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: May8e. Idk.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Or may8e the truth just makes me kind of nervous. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What “Truth”?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Don’t tell him I said this, 8ut, I think John is just an extremely powerful 8eing. Even when he sucks.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And he certainly does appear to suck in this reality.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And yet, the uneasy feeling is there.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s a vague feeling I’ve had in the 8ack of my mind for a long time, 8ut it really hit me when I was talking to him earlier.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s distur8ing to think a8out that much power 8ottled up in one stupid nerd who’ll never understand it.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What Power are you even talking a8out?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Like, lame Wind Powers?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No, I mean...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): The power to shape reality. Even without intending to.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Like, just falling 8ackwards into the most insanely overpowered 8ullshit, when the rest of us have to work our asses off for a fraction of that kind of power and relevance.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): He could rewrite everything that ever happened if he wanted. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And he could pro8a8ly even 8end reality to his will in certain ways even if he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing, which he usually doesn’t.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): He’d pro8a8ly manage to 8e more relevant than I could ever dream of 8eing even if he was dead.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s a little depressing to think a8out, actually.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Eh, no it’s not. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Harry’s dad is a Joke! He’s a Washed Up Loser.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: He’s not worth feeling shitty a8out At All.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wow. You know what?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You’re RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Man, that is SUCH a good attitude?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Why didn’t I say that??</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I used to say shit like that.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) turns to face Vriska, propping her head a little higher up on the torso to get comfortable. The Vriskas have become virtually oblivious to the fact that a strangled juggalo is currently functioning as a throw pillow. It feels right, natural even, as if he was never meant to serve any purpose other than that of a deceased, soft vehicle for head and neck support between two blossoming friends. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Hey, can I just ask...</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Why were you making out with this Ridiculous Shithead?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wow, could we may8e not talk a8out that?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I’m fucking em8arrassed.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m not even Judging. It’s not like I can 8lame you.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Sometimes a girl just needs to give up on her Dignity for a while and kiss a Dum8 Clown. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: That does a lot to Explain my Relationship with Harry, actually.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Haha.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Let’s just call it a 8rief and inadvisa8le catharsis through fleeting clown lust, and agree to never speak of this again.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You got it.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut anyway, I was trying to make a point!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I have to say... I’m almost a little jealous of you.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Jealous. Why? I’ve done fuck all.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I go to highschool and that’s a8out it?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Haven’t you like,</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Literally Ascended To Godhood, cre8d Multiple Universes, and uh.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Killed Guys And Stuff?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Yes, I did do all of that stuff.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Didn’t you Mind Control some idiot to jump off a Cliff, and he got Paralyzed...</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: 8ut then you started Dating him or something?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Yeah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That was 8efore I killed him.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Lmao!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s cool though, we made up!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): As ghosts I mean. Well, a different copy of me did that, 8ut I think it still counts.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Wh8ver, it’s just one thing I did. Who can even keep track of this stuff.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Didn’t you 8lind some O8noxious 8itch one time?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): HEY!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Some of this stuff is kind of priv8??</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Anyway, the point wasn’t to go strolling down memory lane on some of the 8adass things I’ve done. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Not that there isn’t a lot of gr8 material there.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I’m just saying, with the life you’re living here, you seem...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Free?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Free to just 8e yourself, and 8e cool, and not really care too much a8out other people’s horse shit.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I’ve spent so long caring so much a8out what other people thought of me. Mainly that they saw me as important, or making a “difference.”</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s such a futile struggle sometimes. And I thought I was doing SO well, and getting SO close to the 8ig prize... and then I end up... here???</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s like a 8ig joke. And sometimes it feels like real freedom is just understanding that.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And when you do, it comes through in your personality, and it’s a lot easier to just seem...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Cool. You know?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I guess.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This is really funny. I feel like such a fuckup. 8ecause now that I’m saying this, I realize there WAS a person like that I met once.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Like you, sorta. It was just another version of myself.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): She was genuinely happy, and living her 8est life, even though she was ironically a ghost.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut something a8out her attitude set me off.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): So I ripped her to pieces??</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Also I sort of stole her girlfriend.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Holy shit?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I know! I’m terri8le.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: No not really. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: This all sounds kind of Legendary, t8h.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No, I know! I know how it sounds. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Just, please, don’t look at me as some sort of role model, ok? </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This isn’t good! The point is it’s 8AD!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Take it from me, don’t do the shit where you start modeling yourself after some mental image you have of a cooler version of yourself! It just sucks.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Haha, alright, Whatever You Say. :::::::)</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Ugh. This isn’t going in the direction I was hoping.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): The POINT is, I was so mad at her.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That happy ghost version of myself, who was free of everything.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I was pro8a8ly mad 8ecause she got to 8e who she really was, without stressing a8out it, which is something I never felt like I was allowed to have.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Well.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You can now, right?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What the fuck is Stopping you.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I guess so. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I wonder what the point would 8e?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What do you mean.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I could 8e a 8etter version of myself than I am, 8ut...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Then...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Who would even 8e around to notice?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I would.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh, yeah. No, I mean, that’s gr8.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And it’s nice talking to you, and getting stuff off my chest? It’s not what I meant, though.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I left the people I care most a8out 8ehind.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What’s the point of 8ecoming your 8est self, if the people most important to you aren’t around to witness it?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Um. Aren’t all your friends Here though?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I know they’re a 8unch of Old Fucks now, 8ut...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No, they are. That’s...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Not what I mean.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Sigh. This is hard to explain.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I guess I mean there’s someone specifically I fell out of touch with, who it feels like I’ll never see again.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): May8e...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) thinks for a while on her next statement. She needs the time to let a thought she’d never had before arrange itself into words.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): May8e that’s why I h8’d my ghost self so much?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Why?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ecause I just had a sense.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): On some level I knew she was right. She was happy and honest with herself. And that’s what made her...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): A version of myself who was actually worthy of someone I cared a8out.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Don’t get me wrong, we had a nice time for a few years living on that meteor. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It was a good, sta8le pale relationship. 8ut that’s all it was.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): We couldn’t really connect in a deeper way 8ecause I was still... the way I am, I guess?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Layers and layers of armor and defenses. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): And I had some mysterious feeling that weak ghost version of myself was always meant to form the kind of connection with her that I never could, 8ecause she didn’t have any of that stuff getting in the way.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Which is pro8a8ly why I flipped out at her.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: The person you’re talking a8out here...</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It kinda sounds like you Love her.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What??</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): No!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Okay, Whatever.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t 8elieve this.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I mean... may8e?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Sorta.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s a complic8d feeling.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: It actually doesn’t sound that complic8d, 8ut again, Whatever.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I don’t know!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I still feel sort of messed up a8out this, and I don’t think I can pinpoint exactly how I feel!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): May8e you can’t even 8oil it down to one quadrant at all!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Who are we Talking a8out here?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I DON’T THINK I CAN TALK A8OUT THIS ANYMORE!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Oh god, it’s not...</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: My MOM, is it?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Or one of them?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh FUCK no. Not them.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Anyway, they’re living on this planet. Remem8er I said I’d pro8a8ly never see her again?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You’re just talking a8out The Girl You 8linded that one time, aren’t you?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Ummmmmmmm.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: May8e I’m not Fucking Stupid?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I know some Lore.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) rolls her head against the clown cadaver to face the sky again. Even if this is another near-duplicate of herself who’s easy to confide in, maybe she’s said too much already. Maybe she’s even admitted too much to herself. Moments pass in silence.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I’m pretty sure Harry’s Dad used to talk to her a lot.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: The 8lind Girl.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): He did? When?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I dunno. Years ago. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): How is that possi8le? I mean... from THIS place?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: What. Earth C? </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I don’t think I get the question.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You still don’t seem to understand. We’re all inside...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Never mind. </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What were they even talking a8out?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I have No Idea.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You wanna Look?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Look at what?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Just a minute ago I swiped his Phone.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): You stole John’s phone??</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I Steal Stuff sometimes. </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: The ha8it’s Pro8a8ly just in my DNA.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Lol.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Yeah, let’s take a look.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Vriska hands over the phone. It exhibits decades of use. This is not the device of a man who frequently upgrades his technology. There’s no password to unlock it. (Vriska) scrolls upward on a text exchange for quite some time.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): How far 8ack does this go??</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Not sure. 8efore I was hatched, at least.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This is all... </p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Weirdly flirtatious????????</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Terezi was like that with a lot of people though.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Still, it’s a little jarring.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s all kind of 8lowing my mind.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You know what this Means, don’t you?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You can Contact Her.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Holy shit.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) clicks on the reply field. Her thumbs hover over the digital keys.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): What would I even say?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Tell her you Love Her.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Oh, shut the fuck up.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Ha Ha Ha Ha.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): 8ut seriously...</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): I have no idea where she is, or what she’s doing. Is she old now too, like everyone else?</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): That would feel weird.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Only one way to Find Out.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">(Vriska) stands up, and paces in circles around the vanquished bard. Vriska maintains her relaxed position while studying the cloud shapes again, providing (Vriska) with a wide berth for this critical rumination. </p>
    <p>Finally, (Vriska) stops pacing, and begins typing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): Hey Terezi.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): This isn’t John.</p>
    <p class="vriska">(VRISKA): It’s Vriska.</p>
    </div></div>
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  "38": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            38
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">R</span>oxy tugs at a piece of hair behind her ear with one hand as she checks the time on her phone with the other.  </p>
    <p>John’s not late, but Roxy’s run out of things to do except wait for him, which is both cosmically appropriate and annoying. It’s not like she’d been cleaning up for his visit or anything. More just wandering through the house, looking at everything through his hypothetical eyes. Things that changed since he left. Things that stayed the same.</p>
    <p>She figured there’d be some point when they talked face to face again, what with the vast expanse of time laid out in front of them and all. But she’d still been surprised when Jake arranged a “friendly visit” and ended up asking, in hushed tones, if she’d be willing to see John again.</p>
    <p>She’d been open to it from the start, but Jake insisted on this absurd sequence of clandestine meetings to ensure that they’d be “safe” from Jane’s “watchful eye.” It took an exhausting degree of assurance for her to convince them that John could just come over, and that Jane didn’t have the house bugged, and she wasn’t about to come and have him thrown in prison for having the audacity to want to see his own family. Now that the day of the reunion has arrived, Roxy is just ready to get on with it.</p>
    <p>The knock on the door is almost too quiet to hear. She exhales, fluttering her overgrown bangs, and goes to answer.</p>
    <p>He’s even beefier than she remembered, but his posture is turned in on itself like he’s trying to seem small. God, this had better not be another self-flagellation fest. She’s prepared to handle a fair few apologies, but there has always been a cyclicity to John’s contrition, and she can only handle so many self-absorbed attempts at communicating remorse before her head starts feeling like it’ll float away from her body.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sup john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: long time no see</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John smiles at her through his hair as he waves hello: one quick slice of his hand through the air, twisting at the wrist. It comes off as shy and boyish instead of hangdog. A good sign. Maybe her jokey casual approach is the right one. That would be handy, because that’s really the best angle she’s got.</p>
    <p>She mirrors the movement with her own hand and steps aside for him to come in.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well alright then pal</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i do believe u know the way to the living room</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, yep.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: thanks.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He clears his throat and follows her gesture. She walks a little behind him, watching his eyes catch on the things she expected—a coat rack covered in scarves, the wall of family photos, a super badass sculpture some chess guys made for her that John always said was “weirdly sexual, for them.” He looks at it now like it’s something from an almost forgotten dream. Roxy sighs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry for staring like an idiot.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just got done with a whole week of feeling weird about hanging out in my dad’s old house again.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: I kind of forgot to think about how it would be surreal coming back here, too.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: some kind of nostalgia whiplash, i guess.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: fair enough yo</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She faces him, seated cross-legged on the couch a polite distance away. He looks past her, almost through her, like he usually does. She knows him well enough to know what he’s politely not asking.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: harry andersons out if u were wonderin</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hell scoot back home later so if you make it thru round 1 of awkward ex-family convos im happy to say you can be rewarded with another</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, cool.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’d like to see him, if…</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if it’s okay with both of you.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ya we chatted bout it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but like i said</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: one thing at a time</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lets me n u tear this ol egbert/lalonde estrangement band-aid right the fuck off n see what we got goin on underneath it</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John laughs, and there’s a shadowed flicker of warmth to it. Roxy immediately wants to fan it—to make him laugh for real—but she knows by now that it’s not her job to make him happy. That was something she gave up on years ago. But wanting to? That feeling is still as fresh as it always was.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: sounds like a plan.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, uh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i’ve realized some things.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: some stuff that involves you and some that doesn’t, but all things i think you deserve to know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whew.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok lemme think where to start...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you know how jake left jane?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, i assume you know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: though, uh, no offense, but jane’s version might be... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: skewed.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh lmao nah i didnt hear it from janey</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: harry anderson filled me in on wat he got thru the teen grapevine</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you guys not... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nevermind.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry, i came to apologize for my shit, not pry into your business.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we don’t have to talk about jane if you don’t want to.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy shrugs. She’s still working through what she feels about distancing herself from Jane, but John actually isn’t the worst person she could talk to about it. If he’s truly about to be real with her for the first time in forever, she might as well try to meet him halfway.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: janey n me havent been super tight of late</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what about politics not coming between friends and all that?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao well turns out sometimes someones politics make it p clear what kind of friends they value</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or dont</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and idk sometimes people you used to like when you were a teen grow up to be assholes or w/e!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think i was clingin to somethin just to prove to myself that i was doin stuff right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ol rolal</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hella normal</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: v good at sticking with friends</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the more i thought abt it the more i figured holdin on to that one thing made me lose out on some other shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u might relate</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha, you got me there i guess.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: anyways</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im not tryna take up all ur big speech time w/ my stuff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: you were tellin me about how jake n janey finally went splitsways and how it gave you some kind of epiphany</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, it’s cool!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m glad to hear it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we can come back to your shit after my shit, maybe.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but yeah, jake, he uh...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he and tavros are living with me now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think for the foreseeable future. we were expecting jane to have kind of a fit about it, but all we’ve gotten so far are some divorce papers. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if she knows where jake is and she hasn’t had a drone fleet dispatched to nuke my house off the planet i think that’s a good sign she’s actually just letting them go?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: which is kind of surprising, but, uh. good, i guess.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ok ill b the first 2 admit that janes turned into kind of a jerk lately but u no shes not actually like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: literally evil </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s debatable!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sry to disappoint but janes just a person and you cant actually blame her for everything that went wrong in our marriage like i was her helpless thrall or somethin</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s not what i was saying...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ok neither of us came here to argue about janey did we</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re right. let’s just not talk about her.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how things got to be like they are.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess i’ll just come out and say it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i completed fucked up your entire life.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not going to pretend like there are two sides here. it’s my bad, totally. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, not just what happened to our marriage, though it’s also true that that’s completely my fault.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but even before that... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i fucked up on just this massive, fundamental level, and it’s what i did—  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or, well, what i didn’t do—</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that caused every stupid bullshit thing about the way this world is.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: none of this was supposed to be this way.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: honestly, it doesn’t feel right that we got married at all, does it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: your life was heading in this whole other direction with callie, and i just...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno. i just kind of took that from you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i ended up taking a lot of decisions from a lot of people.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everything took a backseat to what i wanted.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whatever cosmic significance the lives here do or don’t have, all the pointless suffering i’ve created is... inhumane. and—</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh nah ill stop u rite there my man</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She feels a little bit bad cutting him off. This conversational space they’ve carved out for themselves is balanced on a tenuous trust, and she doesn’t want to scare him away. It’s just that she could feel his whole speech gathered up inside him, poised to gush out in a long rote ramble, and it’s frankly just. Some bullshit. She knows more than he does, and she doesn’t need to hear it. She’s not a kid anymore, and she doesn’t have to pretend someone else is right just to keep the peace if she doesn’t want to.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im sorry john ilu but this is some hot steamin horseshit</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John’s gaze slides over to focus sharply on her face for maybe the first time since he showed up on her doorstep. Goosebumps trail down her shoulders, but she doesn’t let the closeness of it distract her from her frustration.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its some real jerkoff emoji stuff is all im sayin!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: you think you choice mattered so much that no one elses could measure up?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: n then what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: did u get what u wanted?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: did your life end and the points got tallied and you came out on top or like what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: still p much seems like were movin to me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and you sure dont seem like ur winnin so wheres all this good shit you got that you gotta go around handin out apologies for?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: also damn dude while were at it!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u forgot to actually say sorry in that apology!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i didn’t — i just meant...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry for fucking up your life, or making it not—</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i like my life!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean it aint perf and i got my share of fuckups n mistakes in there but you dont get to tell me its fucked up</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or that it isnt real or somethin</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its mine!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">So much for the jokey, comfortable approach. She tilts her chin up and tries to breathe evenly as she holds eye contact. He’s been looking at her, really looking at her, and she doesn’t want to blink, just in case that shatters it. John doesn’t respond. He just sits there with his mouth hanging open, staring. He blinks a few times, slow, but he’s still focused completely on her. The corners of his still-open mouth pull themselves up helplessly into a smile.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: uh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wat r u lookin at me like that for?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i’m sorry.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s just...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i used to be so angry that you wouldn’t tell me what you really thought, before.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not like i wanted to FIGHT fight, but like.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m just not used to this flavor of roxy.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sounds to me like u just disproved ur own hotshot theory then genius</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: you wished i was one way the whole time we were married</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but i wasnt</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but now that youre all convinced ur the only real boy in a crowd o puppets</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: here i am bein me just like you ordered only i did it without your help</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: widen ur zoom my man!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im not actin like this now because you want me to or bc you dont want me to</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i was bad at standin up for myself then and im learnin to be good at it now</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ive got my own self actualization train</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ur just pullin in to one of my many roxy figures some shit out stations right as i built it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you were never like that before i... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dude</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: where tf do u get off trying to decide what is or isnt me being “like me” enuff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: do u think ppl stay the same their whole damn lives or what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’ve really never felt like anything about our lives here was... off?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: off from what exactly??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the way things should be?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what does that mean???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John’s mouth opens and closes. It seems there’s something stuck in the spokes of his rhetorical tire. Roxy can see the gears struggling to turn in his head. She almost feels bad for him.</p>
    <p>Roxy lets herself take a moment. She doesn’t want to reassure him with lies, to tell him he’s never fucked anything up in his life. But she doesn’t want to twist the knife of blame further into him than it needs to go. So she shrugs, looks her ex-husband in the eyes, and tells him the truth.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean i felt... somethin i guess</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but its not just you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: youve never been the only player in this game u kno</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: do u not remember who all was there when this all kicked off?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: me n callie wouldna told u u had a choice if it was all just some meaningless bs</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not like i was ever some master seer of all that ever was or will be but i do know a lil bit abt what coulda gone down if things were different</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and u know what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i like the way things turned out just fuckin fine</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so maybe u could stop wastin precious eternity thinkin ur so special that its ur fault everyones not perfectly happy</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John is quiet. Roxy has more to say, maybe. More things she’s half thought about, but never quite put words to, regarding the paths her life could have taken. This has already been a lot of truth for one moment, though, so she pats John’s knee and walks to the kitchen for some water.</p>
    <p>A glass in each hand, Roxy leans against the counter, breathing. She’s still running on the adrenaline of getting all that out, and the surface of the water trembles with it. She watches the ripples, watches her hands. She wonders if they will ever wrinkle.</p>
    <p>When she sits back down next to John, he takes the glass wordlessly. After a minute of reflective sipping, which she is grateful for, he speaks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just kept wanting to find ways to make everything make sense, you know?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but maybe it just fucking doesn’t.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know we became grownups in a world built specifically n cosmically for us</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so i get wanting to find a pattern in everything</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but not everything has 2 b that deep</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: n when u think abt it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lookin at it that way, like evrythin has to be this elaborately purposeful heroic design to be worthwhile</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is actually p shallow</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John stretches, scratches the back of his head like an anime love interest, and lets out one mindfucked exhale of a laugh. His features are droopy, his whole body tired from the mental wringer he just went through, but he’s still looking at her for real. Fondness surges through her. Not in a way where she fears the reignition of any romantic feeling. It’s just that she understands him. And he’s starting to understand her. It’s comfortable the way an old t-shirt you thought you lost but discovered in the back of the closet is comfortable. Smells mostly musty, but still enough like home to knock you right on your ass.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry. it’s just so hard to not feel like a total asshole. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe i’m not some grand vizier of destroying time and space or whatever.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but we KNOW that there’s a canon timeline out there.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and it seems really obvious to me that we aren’t in it anymore.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: “so what”???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: tf do i care that theres some other reality out there some1 arbitrarily decided was the “real” one</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whats that have to do with the life i have now</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what is there actually that makes this one mean less than that one to the ppl who r actually in it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you never feel like it would’ve been better if things had gone a different way?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: magic or no, i could have done a lot differently, for you especially.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: stuck around, or... fuck.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: stayed out of your way to begin with.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let you and callie do your thing, or do whatever it was you seemed to be headed off to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just didn’t expect it to be me, after... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy wrinkles her nose. Thinking about all the lives she could have led makes her feel dizzy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: nah dont say that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean i accept ur apology this time but</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres obvs all kinds of ways shit coulda gone</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and tbh back then</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: with her...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mostly i think i just wanted to do stuff right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: not that i knew wtf that even meant lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: which was prob the problem lmao lmao lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we had this big fresh as hell start at bein people!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i had all these conflictin thoughts abt how to be me in the first place</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like what it meant to date a beautiful skull alien</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sexualitywise and genderwise and person in generalwise</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: for a while there i didnt know if i wanted ppl to think of me as a woman at all</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ah, i didn’t know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, i guess maybe i wondered?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but the way young idiot me would have wondered, so not that deeply.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and it seemed like you’d forgotten all about it when we got together.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i hadnt forgotten about it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you want to talk about it...?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i coulda told you then but i kinda felt embarrassed abt flip floppin with my identity i think</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mean it isnt like i grew up with big airquotes society tellin me what was right n wrong like u did</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so it wasnt any kind of shamefest</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just a lot of abstract hypotheticals wed only just started talking about and never got very far into</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just idk i thought i might do things one way but then i stopped hangin out with callie as much</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not like i stopped thinkin abt it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or her</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but it never rly came up with anyone else and i didnt rly feel like i could talk abt it with you so i never brought it up again</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m really sorry you felt that way, roxy.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its ok its not ur fault</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but you don’t regret it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not going for that stuff, and instead just... marrying me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not asking so you can absolve me, i’m just impressed.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how do you not second guess every choice you make?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i havent stuck my head in the timeline vortex like u have so i dunno what its like to see other options</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just do things the best way i think to do em and then shrug n hope it works out?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy thinks about time and the spirals of choice that hang just outside her periphery, and the vertigo grows. She rolls the word “regret” around in her brain; she feels it on her tongue. John waits.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i dont think i can regret anything</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres not only one right way to be me imo</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i like the me i am</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not like i went n decided “actually hell ya love to be a woman n do all the shit on the woman checklist”</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i get that thats prob what it looks like outside of my own self but i dont care abt that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sorry lol im not good at this whole explainin what transpires in my brain thing</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John shrugs and Roxy gives herself time to think. She remembers how confusing it felt to even approach her identity when this stuff first hit her. There had been some vague truth about the uselessness of rules about how gender should be, but she never quite worked it out.</p>
    <p>She’d stopped thinking about it until she got pregnant—then she had been so afraid that having a baby would confirm some deep truth within her that she’d pushed away, but that it would be too late to back out. That hadn’t happened, and instead there was the strange, all-consuming bodily relief she felt when, somehow, being pregnant had felt right. It was good in the opposite way than she had expected. She hadn’t felt any more womanly than she ever had. It had hit her then that she could think of her body not as specifically female, but as something altogether different. Hers. A flesh machine, shifting pieces around to create a person. Her breasts, which she’d not really known what to do with or how to feel about, suddenly had a specific, practical purpose. It had allowed her to retreat from the concept of gender entirely, grounding herself only in the physical reality of using her body to make another, two heartbeats blending in a rhythm that was nothing but human.</p>
    <p>She does not know how to articulate this to John. It’s convoluted and personal and she isn’t sure she can do the overwhelming goodness of it justice. But then, Harry Anderson is his, too, so she knows she has to try.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk this life ive been livin gave me harry anderson</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: that kinda outweighs anything else just for me personally</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: n its not like i ever totally quit thinkin abt that gender stuff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just found a different way to work it out than maybe i was originally gonna</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Touching those huge, inarticulate thoughts with words feels bigger than she expected, and tears prick at the backs of her eyes. She shakes her head and laughs before John can start crying, too.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but lmao john were just adults</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were not dead!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk i mean were only what... barely middle aged in regular human years?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: we got all kinds of hypothetical but still prolly finite eternity to work our shit out</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: who tf knows</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not like you figure out who you are when youre 23 and then the rest of ur whole life is just sittin back watchin ur shit fall apart or not</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean maybe thats been it for u so far</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha. ouch.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just dont think im anywhere near done buildin those roxy self actualization train stops</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: who the fuck can say how many more i got lined up</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: same goes for u</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: if youre willing to look at this life as more than a cosmically pointless dead end failure that is</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s literally nothing to do but keep moving forward.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i may as well not be a big fucking downer about it if i don’t have to be.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thats the spirit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: weve got a million billion lifetimes ahead of us john</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u dont even KNOW all the ways u got left to fuck up in!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hows that for some inspiration??!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s pretty fucking inspirational, roxy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">They both smile, and it somehow felt more real and warm than it was before. Maybe the cushion of years and lack of pressure makes it so, but she doesn’t question it too closely. She doesn’t want to go back to where she’d been with him, but knowing they’d both been there, together, feels like enough.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: thank you for trusting me with this personal stuff.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know partly you were telling me all that to kick my sadsack ass, but i know you don’t talk about this kind of thing every day.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: to be real i hadnt even let myself think abt it every day</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so thanks for lettin me ramble at u out loud instead of just almost thinkin abt it once every few years</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess sometimes it takes hearing the same shit over and over until it sticks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s mostly an own on myself by the way.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao were just rippin off those bandaids left n right over here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: a coupla professional issue discussers</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i’m frankly baffled by how fucking good we are at this?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: where was this when we sucked so hard at being married?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: buried under a shocking number of issues is my guess</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, it’s nice to throw a few off, for once.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: feel free to communicate with me instead of spendin the next 300 years in a silent prison of your own making if u so desire</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John nods, and as he opens his mouth to speak, the door opens.</p>
    <p>Harry Anderson looks at the two of them all teary and laughing and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, shifting his weight. Roxy sees a muscle tighten in his jaw. Her beautiful, smart boy. She wants to run over and hug him, to protect him from the possibility of pain at talking to his father, but she doesn’t. She knows how much he’s wanted this, no matter how much he jokes about it.</p>
    <p>She looks back at John, and sees her own awe mirrored in his face. She wills him not to cry, not to fall back on his self-imposed suffering and blame loop. Something about the last hour must have done the trick, though. John stands up, brushes his hands on his jeans, and walks, back straight, toward his son.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey harry anderson.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s really, really good to see you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you wanna go for a drive?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The muscle in Harry Anderson’s jaw clenches a few more times, but when he smiles, it is genuine.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, dad.</p>
    <p class="harry">HARRY ANDERSON: that could be cool.</p>
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE EIGHT</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            39
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">O</span>n the other side of the continent, somewhere along the border between the Human and Troll Kingdoms, Dave and Jade navigate a densely jungled region. Though they’re high-ranking members of the resistance, they aren’t decked out in the full military regalia associated with their positions. They’re in camo fatigues, Dave sporting a patchwork of bright and dark reds, Jade in black and grays. This is the designated attire for those on scouting and reconnaissance missions, which is the nature of their current expedition. </p>
    <p>The orders came from Commander Vantas himself. This underdeveloped part of the border, mostly uninhabited for many miles, was unspeakably critical to the rebellion, according to the commander. When pressed on it, he’d claim the reasons needed to remain classified for now. Dave and Jade suspect the real reason is that Karkat can’t bear to put them in harm’s way, risking their Heroic deaths. But they’ve decided to do him the professional courtesy of believing his story. The way they see it, he’s finally earned a little respect by now. Besides, there’s some fun to be had out here, away from the fog of war. Just like the good old days, during their archaeological expeditions in search of Shitty Liberties. </p>
    <p>They fly side by side just above the thick jungle canopy, sweeping the horizon with sharp eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i think i see another one!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh snap</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave squints. Sure enough, there does appear to be a large, rusted arm holding a torch, blurred by JPEG artifacts and covered in vines, poking out just above the canopy. It’s two or three miles off to the west. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: another shitty liberty</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: good eye jade </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave takes a picture with his phone, then updates his report containing a comprehensive accounting of the locations of every ancient Statue of Liberty his alternate-timeline adult self once distributed all over this world as some sort of ironic, avant-garde goof. He’s spent a lot of time on Earth C wondering when adult-Dave got around to doing which specific legendary exploits in the pre-flood period of this planet when it was in the old solar system. So much time, in fact, that he turned into an adult-Dave himself. Was he the age he is now when he scattered these Liberties in one of the boldest postmodernist endeavors in human history? The thought is sobering. He can’t help but feel how appropriate it is that about five thousand years later, his work is being curated and appreciated by yet another adult-Dave. Who better for the task?</p>
    <p>Jade readies another tactical bundle to be deployed inside the distant Liberty. It includes an efficient pack of captchalogue cards containing tracking technology, military equipment, and powerful explosives. In the event this region becomes another front of the war, the commander wants as many Shitty Liberties as possible seeded with provisions useful to the rebellion, including the ability to detonate them at any time, so that they may serve as traps. Dave wonders if his other self ever imagined they’d be used this way. He’s sure adult-Dave would have approved, being a fellow freedom fighter himself. It’s too perfect, actually. Deploying a bunch of Shitty Liberties as bombs in the service of a kind of liberty that is entirely un-shitty. It makes him wonder if his other self on some level knew they would be used for this purpose one day. The thought of his double’s selfless sacrifices against clown tyranny makes him feel so proud, he wipes away a small tear forming at the edge of his eye. </p>
    <p>Old age has made him emotional. It didn’t used to be like this. Gotta keep it together, he thinks. Focus on the mission.</p>
    <p>Then, he notices something. Just below him, to the east a bit. A lumpy part of the jungle where the canopy bulges upward slightly in an uneven, somewhat angular way. It suggests a rigid structure beneath the overgrowth. Something man-made. Another Liberty, perhaps? No, this structure is different, more compact. More likely a ruined building from an ancient Earth city. It seems to call to him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why dont you go ahead and rig that liberty ill be right there</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i wanna check something out down here first</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what is it?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk probably nothing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: some ancient bullshit tucked away in the fucking jungle</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: doesnt hurt to be thorough</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ok dave</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: be careful!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i love you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i love you too</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade swoops closer, gives him a kiss, then spins around and flies off to the distant Shitty Liberty. Dave watches his wife go, her tail protruding through the rear of her camo pants, swishing back and forth with a sense of unrestrained affection for her husband. He’s a lucky man, he tells himself. He knows he is. Before any decades-old doubts can resurface to haunt him, he dives through the canopy in search of the ruins. Those reservations, the tense feelings in his chest, that’s all in the past for him. He loves his beautiful, doggy wife more than anything in the world, and that’s all there is to say on the matter.</p>
    <p>The ruins are so overgrown with vines and the thick trunks of creeping trees, he can’t make out the shape of the building. He can barely see an inch of exposed surface, but something is clearly there. He flies around the perimeter, pushing leaves and branches out of his way. Here’s something. An old window, grand in design, but broken, busted in by a huge branch that extends deep inside from years of growth. </p>
    <p>It’s dark inside, hot and musty. He activates a small, military-issue flashlight. Bugs scatter and fly about. He scans the boundaries of the room, shining the light around. There are unrecognizably ancient, moldy paintings in frames hanging on the wall. And yet the wall seems to have no corners. He knows what this room is. He’s seen it before in films, under much better repair than this.</p>
    <p>He’s standing in the Oval Office of the White House. Plant life is covering everything, but all the fixtures are there. Moss is consuming the big desk. That flowering mass of thorny vines is where the couches would be. And over there... is something he doesn’t quite recognize. It doesn’t seem to fit in. He steps closer to investigate, wiping away at the layers of moss and dirt to reveal a surface he most certainly does recognize. It’s a transportalizer. </p>
    <p>Dave doesn’t waste any time. You don’t find something like this in the Oval Office and start agonizing over whether or not to use it. He steps on the platform, and in a blink his surroundings are completely different. The centuries of overgrowth are gone, and he appears to be in some sort of crypt, boxed in by walls of smooth, golden stone. At the far side of the room, something is hanging on the wall, encased in a sort of display. It’s a mounted god tier costume, about the size an adult male would wear. He recognizes the symbol. It’s the same one Jake used to wear when they were teens. It is the symbol for Hope. </p>
    <p>He steps toward the costume, hears a “click” under his shoes. He looks down and discovers he’s standing on a large button, which has just become illuminated under the pressure of his feet. The button bears a strange, angular symbol he doesn’t recognize, but before he can study it, something directly in front of him draws his attention. Thousands of bright particles swarm from an unseen origin and coalesce into a solid, luminous figure in the shape of a tall man. The radiance of the holographic image diminishes to reveal a man in a suit, with a strikingly recognizable face. Dave draws in a sharp breath and clutches at his chest. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Hello, Mr. Strider.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I’ve been waiting a long time for you to show up.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s jaw hangs open. The legends have been confirmed. As well as several key headcanons of his. Without thinking, he drops to one knee and bows his head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: m... mr president</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its an honor sir</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">President Obama laughs amiably and gestures with one hand for Dave to rise.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Come on now, Dave. We can’t be having that.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I’m nobody’s king. I’m a democratically elected representative who took an oath to serve his country and his people. People like you, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: If anything, I should be the one bowing.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave says nothing, at a loss for how to respond to such soft-spoken words of wisdom and humility. He idles for a moment, seemingly waiting for Obama to follow through with his promised act of deference.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Hahaha, I’m not gonna bow, man. I was just pulling your leg. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh ok</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I just want to talk to you for a little while. Is that alright, or do you have somewhere you need to be?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no sir i dont have anywhere to</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yes sir</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its MORE than alright its such an honor to...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what i mean is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (fuck)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: mr president what i mean is im a huge fan of yours and i hope this doesnt sound fucked up but on some level i feel like ive been waiting my whole life for this moment??</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I know, Dave.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama offers a warm smile. He looks down, adjusting the cuffs of his holographic suit with the casual manner of a skilled statesman. It’s the body language of a man getting down to business.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Now, you probably weren’t aware of this. But I’m familiar with the work you’ve done for your country in the past. For the whole planet, actually.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Before you moved it, that is.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you knew about him?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: me</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Oh, yes.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Most people thought I was gone. But I was keeping an eye on events.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Wouldn’t miss it for anything.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: where did you go</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I was doing what you did back then, when the world needed you.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I was doing what you’re doing now, under the same circumstances.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I was answering the call.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I went about it in a way no one at the time could understand. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You see, Dave. No one can really see the big picture. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: That’s what real leadership is all about. Looking at the big picture, seeing the long road ahead, making the hard choices for the greatest good. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Not just decisions that lead to a better tomorrow, or to make sure the next year is better than the last. Or even the next decade.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You have to think about the next century, the next millennium.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Sometimes, you may even have to leave people wondering if you’ve forsaken them entirely, because your real duty is to concern yourself with the final destination of the planet. To make sure it stays safe along the hard journey and ends up being the best home it can be for both the human race and the many newcomers to our world.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Doing the right thing often means walking a long and lonely road, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: But I’m guessing you’ve already figured this out.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess so</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave pauses, pensively fiddling with the pockets of his camo pants. He has so many questions for the ex-president. He braces himself, and presses ahead. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if you dont mind my asking sir</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i thought you died?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well i mean i KNOW you did where im from with the meteors and all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but from what i know about the history of the flooded earth timeline</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you served your two terms then just</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a little after that they say you disappeared</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so... you didnt die?</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Oh, I certainly died, Dave. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Just not when they say I did. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Like I said, I was just answering the call. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Other brave heroes like you stepped in to fill the void I left behind. As I knew you all would.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: And some say the death of those heroes was in vain, or a waste, since the human race was wiped out anyway. Just like they say my supposed death was a waste, a loss that humanity couldn’t endure.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: But they were wrong. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Those heroes were fighting for something. Even if all you manage to accomplish is leaving behind a legacy to inspire others in the future who need that Hope to go on. Even if one of those in the future you end up inspiring is an alternate history version of yourself, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Haven’t you been improved by the knowledge of what you grew up to be in my time? Can you really say you’d be what you are today without the memory of him?</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Or the memory of me, for that matter?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave considers the question seriously. He’s transfixed by Obama’s kind gaze and can’t seem to look away. There are times when he feels relieved by the lifestyle decision he made as a kid to wear a pair of aviator sunglasses at all times, no matter what.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats all good and totally inspiring and all but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry if this is nosy but if you didnt die when you disappeared then how did you die</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Most of that is classified, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Rest assured, it was a Heroic death that took place many years after my disappearance, upon which rested the fate of Paradox Space itself.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: There were loose ends to tie up. Baggage from my distant past. You know how it is. Troubles from your childhood tend to follow you. Even after you move into the White House. Believe me.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: heh yeah i guess so</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what happened to you as a kid</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or is that classified too</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: No, it’s not classified. Because I never even told the government about it.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Can’t classify what you don’t know.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: When I was a boy living in Hawaii, on my thirteenth birthday I was visited by a mysterious stranger.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: He was an older man with a mustache. Kind of a corny, old-fashioned, adventuring type. He tried to convince me we were related. Of course, I thought he was full of shit.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: To this day, I’m not sure about that. Maybe he was. I didn’t think much of his tall tale at the time, but what did pique my interest was his story.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: He was voyaging all over the Pacific looking for a mysterious island, which supposedly had all the answers he’d spent his whole life searching for. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: During his travels, he set up outposts all over the ocean to help with his search. Such as one near where I lived as a boy. The outpost had a laboratory, an archeological dig site, a network of underground tunnels, the works.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: One time, I snuck in there and did some exploration of my own. Somewhere in the maze of underground ruins, I found a transporter pad, just like the one that brought you here.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: It sent me to a new realm. A place they called the Medium. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave does his best not to show it, but his heart is racing faster with every word Obama says. His mind races too, with more thoughts than he can keep track of. Thoughts of affirmation, exhilaration. i knew it... i knew it! his brain repeats to itself. The sense of vindication is indescribable. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Others were there. Kids my age. I made friends that lasted a lifetime.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Over the years, I would return there now and then, when I felt I was needed.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I made one final trip there after serving my terms in office. As I said, I kept an eye on Earth events. But I knew I could never return. Not with the work that still needed to be done.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: But before my Heroic death, I made sure to have my affairs in order, to fulfill certain cosmic necessities of the future. Such as our meeting here today, Dave.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: holy shit</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I captchalogued a ghost imprint of my brain. You remember how to do that, don’t you?</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I stored the imprint in this holographic projection device. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You see, Dave, it was critical that I had a chance to speak with you. But only when the time was right. Only once you had made it all this way, standing ready to defend the future of Earth C.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tears are welling up in the corners of Dave’s eyes. There go the fucking waterworks again. He says another quiet prayer of gratitude for the shades John gave him. He’s got to keep it together. He tells himself there’s nothing wrong with crying. Of course there isn’t. Just... not in front of Obama. He’s GOT to keep it together. He sniffs in deeply, with a theatrical stoicism, and crosses his arms. But on his exhale, a small, choked sob escapes. He seals his lips tight, but his mouth quivers and puckers under the impossible pressures of restraint.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I know what you’re going through. There’s a lot to be emotional about in these trying times.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Hey, why don’t we take a walk. You’ll have a chance to collect yourself. And there’s something I’d like you to see. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama waves his hand toward a wall, and a secret compartment opens up with the traditional stone-grinding noises to be heard in any crypt worth exploring. He leads the way into a dark corridor. They walk for some time, only one pair of solid feet making audible footsteps that echo far ahead into the darkness. The light from Obama himself serves as Dave’s torch. Soon, he feels calm enough to continue the conversation.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: mr president</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you said...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i reminded you of the adult dave from your timeline</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: That’s right.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how did you know adult dave if you were from the original timeline</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Dave, come on now.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Surely you must know I’m no stranger to timeline shenanigans myself.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course what was i thinking</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway no offense but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you really sure i remind you of him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: there are a lot of times where i dont feel like im at all living up to that guys example</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a lot of times i feel like im just going along with shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like my buddy organizes a badass rebellion and im just like duh yeah alright</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sounds cool guess ill scout around the jungle and rig a bunch of shitty statues of liberty to explode if those are the orders</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Rig the what to do what now?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah maybe never mind that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its just a stupid mission im on and tbh karkat probably just sent us on it so we dont get ourselves killed stupidly</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama nods solemnly at this clarification. His expression makes it clear that this is the type of executive decision he understands all too well.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but compared to that guy i apparently turned out to be</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i feel like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a lesser version of myself somehow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not lesser maybe just like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i somehow ended up as the version of me who didnt stay as true myself as i could have</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i entered this world already considered a god</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: already famous</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: already celebrated as a genius</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what was there left to achieve</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i still did a lot of incredible and stupid shit that i guess im pretty proud of</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: something feels hollow about a lot of what ive done the last bunch of years</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or i guess about a lot of stuff in general</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its not just accomplishments or stuff like that it goes deeper i think</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like karkat managed to rise to the occasion and defend his people but i hardly had anything to do with that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it was mostly him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hes turned into someone pretty incredible really</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You still care a lot about Karkat, don’t you?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh well</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course i do hes my friend</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Are you sure that’s all he is, Dave?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i love my wife</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade has been the best thing that ever happened to me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the day i decided to marry her and like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: get off the fence</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stop insulting her by acting so casual about it like our thing was no big deal</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she deserved me being all the way into it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she deserves everything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i KNOW this is all true</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: But?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Here come the tears again. More than a drop or two at the corners of his eyes. He blinks, and they run down his face, racing beneath the lower rims of his shades faster than he can turn away. He’s losing control now. His cool is a distant memory, like a dream he’s struggling to remember. Obama puts a flickering hand on his shoulder. Dave feels the dense light of the hologram buzzing through the fabric of his clothes, grazing his skin. It tingles, like mild static electricity. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my bro died a long time ago</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuckin hung himself for some damn reason</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for a little while i had a bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i could talk to him about stuff</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i did a little bit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i dunno if we got THAT deep into...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whatever</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You can always talk to me about anything, Dave.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thanks man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess what im trying to say is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i miss him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a lot</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I think Dirk would be proud if he could see how you turned out.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: In fact, I know it.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean yeah i do kinda miss him too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i try not to think about him much because</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well thats a whole thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what i meant was</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i miss karkat</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave falls to his knees. He slides his open palms up beneath his shades and covers his face. He weeps quietly as Obama looks down on him, smiling patiently, understandingly. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think i messed up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i didnt do the right thing a long time ago and now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: even though i love jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i feel like im living a lie</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i try not to even think any of this stuff but now that im letting myself not only think it but say it i feel like im panicking </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont know what to do</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He’s hyperventilating now but catches himself. He has to calm down. This is no way to behave in front of a president. He collects himself, starts breathing steadily, and looks up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: mr president </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can you keep a secret</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Yes I can, Dave. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: These days, keeping secrets is practically all I ever do down here.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He runs a hand through his hair, and looks back down.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think im gay</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama purses his lips in that trademark way of his—thoughtful, serious, contemplative. He nods slowly, letting the silence grow, as if considering precisely how to deliver the most perfect arrangement of words any man has uttered in human history.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Over the course of our lives, we all tend to believe we’re a lot of different things.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: One year, you’re this. Another, you’re that. Later in life, you start pushing forty, and start worrying you’ve been believing the wrong thing about yourself the whole time.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I’ve had my share of doubts about all that, just like any other man.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: And I’ve had plenty of the same kind of struggles as you, Dave.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama nods, smiles wistfully. Dave arches his eyebrows high above his shades. They stare at each other, and in the look they exchange, they seem to say all that needs to be said between two grown men on the matter.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Identity, sexuality, gender, all that stuff is about as illusory as I am, standing before you here.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Is this the real me? Who can really say.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Depends on what real means, or what I even mean when I say “me.”</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: For that matter, are you even the real you?</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Haven’t you been asking yourself that question one way or another all your life?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Believing is the key to understanding the truth underlying the words, the truth underlying the ideas they represent, and the truth underlying who we are as individuals.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: The power of belief, the power of Hope, that’s what endows that which is intangible, ephemeral, or uncertain with a sense of reality.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: It brings focus to the insubstantial, the mirages of the mind, the multiplicity of what is possible, of what could be, and isolates it—concentrates it—to turn it into that which is.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: And the result of that, Dave, is what we call truth.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave is still crying, but he doesn’t care anymore. The tears are flowing down his face, but he won’t look away. He’s perfectly unashamed of his vulnerability at this moment. The only thing he knows is he needs to listen carefully to every precious syllable. To listen with his ears, his heart, his entire being. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: The truth of oneself can be very specific, if one wills it to be.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Statements such as, I am gay, I am straight, I am a man, I am a woman, these are statements about an individual that gain strength through the power of belief we invest in them.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: But there is another more generalized truth about a person that can emerge when such conviction is absent. When the partitions of the mind dissolve, and the boundaries between everything you are now and everything you might have become begin to fade away.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre talking about that ultimate self stuff</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I am indeed, Dave.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: havent heard about that in so long</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: rose used to talk about it all the time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirk would rant about it a lot too</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: He sure did.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you mentioned dirk earlier</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did you like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually KNOW him??</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Oh... we’ve met on a few occasions.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave blinks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how is that possible</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he killed himself</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Did he, now?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you saying thats not what happened</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I’m saying you know as well as I that it’s awfully hard to pin down exactly what happened to whom, depending on which frame of reference we might be talking about.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so like... he...  </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I learned a lot from him.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Met up with him as a young man, as I was just beginning to explore the wonders of my session.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: He taught me about many things. Combat, philosophy, life, love...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: love???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hold on are you saying</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that...  </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Now, Dave. I can’t go around disclosing everything under the sun. Plenty of this is still under the umbrella of executive privilege. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Loose lips sink ships, as they say.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama winks again. Dave has actually lost track of how many times he’s winked so far.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: right right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so... somehow he met you and uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: trained you and stuff</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and talked about the ultimate self</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i remember my dirk would go off the deep end about that stuff sometimes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and maybe it made him fucking snap because then he just offed himself and that was that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but rose used to talk about it too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: probably even more</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but one day she just stopped and never mentioned it again</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do you know what like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: happened to her</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: She’s settled happily into the specific. That’s her path now.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: All of you have embraced that life, in this safely sequestered version of planet Earth.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: All of you until now, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: This is why you’re here.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I believe you’re ready to wake up.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave realizes suddenly that they’ve stopped at a dead end of the passage. Obama holds up his arm and points his open palm toward the wall. The wall lifts with the comforting sound of ancient stones grinding against each other. The sliding panel reveals a recess, and in the recess stands a robot. It’s a gleaming, polished silver replica of Dave, but without shades. It stands totally still, unpowered. Dave struggles to make sense of what he’s looking at. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Now, look.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: A human body, even one that’s been elevated to god tier status, cannot withstand the stresses put on it by the awesome power of the Ultimate Self. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: You’d quickly become sick and wither away. We can’t have that.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: So before I died, I made sure to create this brand-new body for you.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: I have to admit, it’s some of my finest work. A real beauty. </p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: It should serve you well in your new life. A life where the world will need you more than ever, Dave.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Not only this world, but the future of reality.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: If this sounds confusing, don’t worry. You’ll understand everything once I help you ascend.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: So what do you say? At the end of the day, this is a choice that belongs to you.</p>
    <p class="obama">OBAMA: Are you ready to accept your destiny, Dave Strider?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It finally catches up with him, what’s taking place here. Dave is sobbing loudly now, beside himself with feelings of joy, a sort of existential relief, and a true sense of purpose. He takes only a moment to decide. Not to weigh the merits of decision. He understands now that the decision was already made the second he first laid eyes on the former president. He pauses only to savor this perfect moment.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: absolutely</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i have never been more ready for anything in my life mr president</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Obama nods once, curtly, and his smile dissolves into a serious look as he closes his eyes. He extends his arm and slowly pushes his hand through Dave’s forehead. The energy from the dense lightform crackles and sends waves through the air like ripples through a pond. It happens suddenly, a shock of white light completely enveloping his and Dave’s bodies, intense bands and lashes of pure Hope radiating from their silhouettes. </p>
    <p>Dave’s eyes widen, his mouth opens as if to scream, but he doesn’t make a sound. Infinite experience flows through his consciousness, an unimpeded torrent of raw potentiality. He sees everything. The roads not taken, the lives not lived, the thoughts, desires, fears all unacted upon. The Doomed Daves, the Davesprites, the Davepetas, life with Jade, life with Karkat, life with both, life with neither. It’s like soaring through the clouds at supersonic speed, too quickly to make out the shape of any single puffy nimbus, like a breakneck jaunt through Skaia. Huge clouds rushing by, small ones, clouds with visions, empty clouds, white clouds, then a great dark one. And then, the briefest possible glimpses—most too fleeting to be noticed—of Dirk.</p>
    <p>And then, nothing. It all stops abruptly, and Dave collapses to the ground, dead.</p>
    <p>Obama is holding his hand up, and floating just above his palm is Dave’s ascended essence. It flickers wildly in his hand like a little kernelsprite. Obama holds it up to his face and blows it away like dandelion fluff. It floats lazily into the chest of the robot, and with that, Obama disappears, leaving the corridor in total darkness and silence.</p>
    <p>Seconds pass. And then a minute. </p>
    <p>And then, time seems to stop altogether. As if the aspect itself has suspended its forward motion, bowing before the unprecedented transformation taking place. It defers to its greatest knight, risen anew.</p>
    <p>With a deep, reverberating electric hum, the robot’s eyes light up, deep red, bright enough to light up the entire passage. Its face comes to life. Its mouth, oddly pliable for a metal surface, begins to smile a little. And then, very broadly.</p>
    <p>The robot steps out of its recess and points its head downward, the searing red beams from its eyes spotlighting Dave’s crumpled torso. The robot—Davebot—shakes his head slowly. The doubts, the confusion, the insecurities of the man lying here all died along with his body. Davebot smoothly reaches down, lifts the shades off the corpse, and puts them on his face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: its about fuckin time</p>
    </div></div>
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE TWO</h2>
    <div class="pos-r pad-t-sm pad-x-lg--md type-center" style="overflow:visible; height:72px;">
    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/candy_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            4
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    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">R</span>ose’s eyes flutter open to the sound of a heart monitor and the sight of a featureless white ceiling. Fluorescent lights, diaphanous curtains, everything crisp and clean. </p>
    <p>A hospital? </p>
    <p>Wait, this doesn’t seem right, she thinks. When she closed her eyes, she was dramatically lingering about her bedroom at home. She’d just taken a handful of pills, and said goodbye to... </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She shoots up in bed, tugging the IV taped under her elbow. Kanaya is sitting at her bedside, hemming a sundress. She thins her lips and gives Rose a half-lidded look.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: “John”</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I See</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Is There Something I Should Know</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This is the sort of joke that would have gone over better if it had not been made at this exact moment. With all the distance between them lately, Kanaya’s jab lands like a rock plunging into a stagnant pond.</p>
    <p>Instinctively, Rose raises her hand to her forehead, but there’s no pain there. Her head is the clearest it’s been in months.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya, what... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What happened?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya throws her sewing project aside and sweeps in close, wrapping a cool palm around Rose’s arm. Her voice quakes but retains most of its porcelain decorum.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Came Home And Found You Passed Out In Front Of The Load Gaper</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Your Skin Was Freezing And You Were Barely Breathing</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: The Doctor Said That Your Heart Rate Dropped Below Thirty Beats Per Minute</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Which As I Understand It Is Somewhat Dire</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: How Are You Feeling</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose considers this for a very long time, eyes fixed on the window at the other end of the room. The night is dying behind the thin, pale curtain. She can barely see the moon.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I feel... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She looks back to Kanaya, eyes wide and bright.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya, I feel... fine.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s been such a long time since she’s felt anywhere in the same ballpark as “fine” that it’s almost an out-of-body experience to say the word. She feels giddy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No Headaches</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No headaches, no visions. Nothing at all. I... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Wait.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is John ok?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Where is he? Did he leave?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Leave</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh No Johns Fine</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Didnt Go Anywhere</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Except I Suppose To Leave His House For Once</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Multiple Days In A Row Even</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. For some reason, she’s never felt so relieved in her life. She thinks about what she was about to send John off to do, and her feelings of grim urgency surrounding the matter. And yet, for the life of her, she can’t bring herself to care about whatever it was she felt was so direly important about his decision. All that matters to her now is that he’s safe, in good health, and spending time with those he cares about. And apparently, due to a perfectly inexplicable turn of events, so is she.</p>
    <p>The door to the room creaks open, and in slips a smiling carapacian in blue scrubs. Rose listens to Kanaya ask fretful questions about her condition. The nurse responds by tapping her clipboard in a musical rhythm.</p>
    <p>Rose opens her eyes. She stares at the knob of her wrist and frowns. She’s not sure why this sensation should be concerning. It’s not like her memory is slipping away. She remembers the conversation she had with John this morning quite clearly. As she does the previous years of declining health, and troubled, obsessive thoughts about canon, dissipation, and other such abstractions. What’s slipping away instead is the feeling that any of it mattered at all. Was she insane to be so consumed by such lofty concerns, and is she only beginning to experience clarity today, for the first time in ages? </p>
    <p>When the nurse leaves, Kanaya puts a hand over the wrist that she is so preoccupied with.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Is Something Wrong</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It just seems like all of this is happening so quickly.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Even... abruptly.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Im Sorry Would You Prefer For Your Consciousness To Continue To Disintegrate</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t be ridiculous, Kanaya.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What I would prefer...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ...is to be here, with you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: <em>Really</em> here with you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: For the first time in a long time.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya tips her face away from the light to hide it in the curve of her shoulder. Rose reaches out and takes her wife’s hands in her own. They’re colder than she remembers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Are you crying?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Since When Have I Been Known To Cry</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Quite often, actually. But usually because you’re angry.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Not Angry</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It was hard on you, wasn’t it?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: My illness? Combined with all your duties to the Mother Grub, the pressures of the changing political situation...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: With all that on your mind, it can’t have been pleasant to have to come home and take care of me as well.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I can see now that it was all terribly unfair to you.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Was Nobodys Fault Rose So Please Dont Take Any Undue Responsibility Onto Your Shoulders</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Since when have I been known to do such a thing?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya’s lips twitch into a smile and she laughs, sadly. Her laughter forces the tears out. They drip down her perfectly made-up face in thick trails.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Really Did Think I Had Lost You</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Its Not That I Thought You Would Die</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Was That You Felt So Far Away</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What You Were Going Through Was Something That I Could Not Possibly Understand No Matter How Patient I Was Or How Deeply I Loved You</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: There Was A Feeling I Couldnt Shake That Something Terrible Was Going To Happen To Us</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Something That Neither Of Us Could Stop</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: A Powerful Outside Force That Would Take You Away From Me</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And I Couldnt Stop Myself From Thinking That Maybe</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Maybe That It Would Be For The Best</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Can Now See That This Is Completely Ridiculous</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya laughs again. Gaily this time, as if some terrible, dark weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She lets out a thin, shaky breath afterward. It’s like the noise fills the room back up with oxygen. Rose hadn’t realized that she’d held her breath at all; the shadow hanging over Kanaya’s thoughts was hanging over hers as well. But now that she’s said it aloud, the darkness dissipates without ever materializing into its true shape. </p>
    <p>Rose uses the hem of her hospital gown to wipe the tears off Kanaya’s face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It really is. Honestly, Kanaya, I’ve never heard such a ridiculous thing in my life.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Are Talking To Me As If I Am A Pupa Again</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m sorry.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No Do Not Apologize It Has Been A Very Long Time Since Youve Had The Energy To Use Such A Condescending Tone Of Voice</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And As You Know Its One Of The Things About You I Find Most Adorable</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I can imagine how adorable I’ve been, drifting around the house like a sweaty, drugged-up ghost.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: While You Know How I Feel About The Careless Imbibing Of Human Intoxicants</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Were Still Very Adorable</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Not To Be Trite But There Is Nothing That Could Make You Not Beautiful To Me</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What a relief, considering that we are both going to be young and magically fit literally forever.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya presses a snotty, uncharacteristically imperfect kiss to the back of Rose’s hand, right beneath where she wears her wedding ring.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If You Would Have Me Forever</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Who else?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There’s no one who understands me like you, Kanaya. No one who looks at me the way you do. No one who brings me back down to earth with ceaseless, brutal honestly like you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I have no idea what’d I’d do without you.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Would Probably Do Just Fine</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, but I’d be very unhappy.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">They smile at each other as the first rays of the sunrise peek through the blinds.</p></div>
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            40
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">F</span>rom atop the tallest bell tower in the Carapace Kingdom, the sky looks like something painted by a crazy person. The fierce lights of war on the horizon stain the sunset in unnatural hues: ultraviolet pigments of red and purple slash through the atmosphere in harsh, jagged strokes. The cracks in the sky above are a diseased shade of green, bright bolts receding like lightning in a storm. Dead-Jade, host to the cherub’s spirit, floats at the apex of the tower. The blitzkrieg above makes a kaleidoscope of color between the black stripes on her tights.</p>
    <p>Aradia glides up to meet her, having left Sollux on the balcony. Above, in the sky, a hole has opened up. One so big it fills the entire radius of her vision.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh thats very dramatic</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The dead cherub says nothing. Aradia flits in front of her face and looks into her eyes. They’re the same black as the vortex above, so absolutely dark that they reflect no light.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i think i understand whats going on now</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: do you?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i mean i think i understand what i was seeing</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: when i watched as everything broke apart</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: and got swallowed up by the black hole</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: which is where i ended up too</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: that black hole...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats basically you right</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: and when you speak of your brother </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats lord english</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: and hes dead</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: not just yet.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: then... where is he</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: ...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i see</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: going to keep us in cryptic suspense as usual are we</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: haha thats fine :)</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes, it is.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i did think it was odd that we ended up in this timeline after all was said and done</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: such a strange and unremarkable place to be after witnessing such awesome calamity</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: theres something</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: hm</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia pinches her thumb and forefinger together.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: off about this place</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: just a little bit</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes, you would think so.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: lesser beings have so much trouble perceiving divinity in the uncanny.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: lesser? </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you have proven yourself a valuable servant, and pleasant company.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but yes, you are lesser.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: haha ok</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: it could always be worse i suppose</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: you said that we were the “lucky ones” if i recall correctly</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: all in this place are luckier than those who are not, in a certain way.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but what way is that</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: the people on this planet seem so...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well i dont want to be mean</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but is that the paradox of living in a utopia</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: when everything is perfect and your every need is met </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: is it natural for people to start crossing blades at imaginary enemies</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i doubt that’s what troubles you about this world.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: what you’ve described is a state of empirical ennui resulting from the material circumstances here.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but the material circumstances of this world have no objective existential value.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: this world, unlike the canonical horrors from which it is hermetically insulated, will always fail to meet the combined criteria for truth, relevance, and essentiality that would endow this realm with any real gravity. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: its own naturally occurring supply of gravity, rather than the artificial supply i have given it.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: as such, what transpires here is characterized by experiential frivolity.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: physically, it is cordoned off by the black hole’s event horizon. it is safe. untouchable.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: inescapable.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: that sounds ominous</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it cannot be ominous because it cannot truly be anything with tangible significance.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: one could describe it as a phantasmal projection confined within my horizon.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it was created by a choice that made it possible for that horizon to expand infinitely, to consume infinitely.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and since that choice could not coexist with canon events, this place manifested here to support its consequences.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: if this world were capable of anything either essential, relevant, or true in some stable combination, then it would perpetuate a corrosive paradox.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: as such, insulation from what is out there, and the inescapable well it rests in, is what protects all it holds inside.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and since i am the embodiment of the black hole in which it rests,</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i am the one protecting this world.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: why?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: if its so irrelevant whats the point</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is simply my duty to defend the innocent from destruction, degradation, and dissolution.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but there is more to consider than just my nature.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: as it happens, this projection within me serves as a stable conceptual foothold from which i can sense and resist another growing threat which is determined to jeopardize the canonical plane of reality.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ah yes the prince</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i still have no idea who he is</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: not that i doubt you really</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: we had a prince who was a huge jerk who destroyed everything he touched </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the prince i am referring to electively removed himself from this reality in order to strategically consolidate his power.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: he cannot threaten this world. and yet by sequestering himself elsewhere, has become infinitely more dangerous.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what makes him so dangerous</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i mean</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what exactly is it he can do which is more destructive than what i was seeing just before i came here?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The cherub makes a rare physical gesture with her hands to begin framing her next statements. Aradia notes this and strives to listen more closely. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: physical destruction is one thing.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: obliteration of the entire canvas for all of reality over a given cosmic span is another.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and yet there are even more insidious forms of destruction and subversion of life to consider.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: methods that are difficult to grasp for those on your plane.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yes yes im quite inferior i know</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but im also very curious!</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: can you try me?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: of course.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: let’s begin by examining the nature of a story.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it will be easier to do this if we have an example of a story to discuss. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: some stories are impossibly long. but others can be quite short.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: some can even be a few words. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: what’s your favorite story?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: my favorite?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: um</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i dont know how to answer that really</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: don’t you like stories?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: of course i do!</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but do you mean like</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: a book? a movie?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: anything.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ummm</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: pick literally any example you can think of.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: theres a famous religious story from my planet</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: about someone called the signless</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: who i guess turned out to be my friends ancestor which was weird</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but thats beside the point</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes, i know of the tale.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: how would you tell his story, if you were trying to be as brief as possible?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: a religious martyr attempted to lead a rebellion but he was killed in a horrible way and shouted a very loud rude word in the process</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: that’s good. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: try making it shorter though.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: a martyr tried to rebel but he was killed horribly and then shouted a rude word</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: shorter.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: wow</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: um...</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: a martyr rebelled but died and shouted rudely?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: shorter.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oof</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok hows this</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: a martyr died and said fuck</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: perfect.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what is the point of this</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: to establish an extremely short narrative for certain illustrative purposes.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i’m going to repeat your story to you, and i want you to listen carefully.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: a martyr died and said fuck.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok i listened</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats definitely the short story i just said</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: now i’m going to repeat the story, but change the way i say it very slightly.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: listen again carefully.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ...</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">a martyr died and said fuck.</span></p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: hmm</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yes that was a little different</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: im not sure that i could describe how though it was pretty subtle</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you noticed because i told you to pay attention for a difference.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you noticed because you were alert to the fact that there was even something to notice at all.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and if you had not been alert to the fact that something could be different about the nature of the voice telling your story, or to the fact that such differences had a certain significance, you likely would not have noticed.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i see</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yes i think youre right</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but now imagine that i told your story in exactly that way. that i said,</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">a martyr died and said fuck.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but it was the first time you ever heard that story.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: also imagine you couldn’t see me and didn’t even know i existed.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and imagine you couldn’t even hear the story i just told with your ears.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it simply entered your awareness in some other manner, in a way that was impersonal. almost like one of your own thoughts speaking to you.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: ok</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: picture that this is all you have ever known of this story. the only way it would ever occur to you that the story could be understood by another.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and then, one day, you meet me.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you look me up and down, and regard me as the discrete, specific individual that i am.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and i decide to tell you this story again, using my own voice.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and it sounds exactly like this:</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: a martyr died and said fuck.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: huh...</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: does this change the way you perceive the story you were originally familiar with?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i guess a little bit</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: it’s certainly a different way of hearing it</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but at least you didnt change any words so i guess its not all that different</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: exactly.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i didn’t change any words.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but then, it was a very short story i told, wasn’t it?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: sure was</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: now imagine it was much longer, and that was only the first line.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats easy to imagine</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: his was a long story</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: quite true.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: a story as short as the one we’ve been using cannot accomplish much when it comes to guiding and manipulating one’s awareness and emotions.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is compact, ostensibly commanding a simple and meditative moment of reflection, as a short poem might.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the narrative it delivers is freighted with inference. it is a pattern imprinted upon the imagination consisting solely of cognitive dark matter, or a sort of notional negative space.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but longer stories have the power to draw consciousness into them. they possess arresting and hypnotic qualities which can be used by their tellers to alter the awareness of the listener.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: again, i’d like you to imagine this is the only way you’ve ever known this story.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but then it continues...</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">a martyr died and said fuck.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">his final howl of profanity reverberated through the ages.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">it inspired his devotees during the darkest times of a brutal regime.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">his lessons were guarded, kept secret, espoused in the shadows of tyranny.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">a vision of peace would inspire those who’d never conceived of it.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">and though his death was gruesome, it opened the world to a feeling of hope.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">this hope echoed through the ages.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">it gave his disciples the strength to persist as they perished in droves.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">it was the only light to shine on a dark planet for millions of sweeps.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">and if you are one so devoted to his teachings, who sees truth in his words,</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: <span class="calliope-dead-story type-rg type-sm--md">it may be said with great authority that</span> you are wrong.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: you are foolish to believe his lies. his martyrdom is false, his sacrifice hollow.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: repent for your adherence to this illusion now, and perhaps leniency will be your reward.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: 0_0</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what just happened there</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i brought to your attention that the story you were listening to had a speaker with a specific identity.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and where there is an identity, there can also be an agenda.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i gained the power to bend your consciousness to become more amenable to my narrative agenda by lulling you into a more receptive state through the established rhythm of the story’s telling.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: this was only possible because you were not initially questioning the identity of the teller, or even considering that there was an identity to consider.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i guess youre right</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: hence, we may view any story as speakerless, or spoken, so as to bring designations to the duality i have just presented.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: a story may remain speakerless from the beginning until the end, offering no reason for its listener to ever imagine it is of the spoken sort.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it can also be spoken from the beginning, which is an up-front announcement to the listener that it carries the perspective of an individual.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but a spoken story may also disguise itself as one that is speakerless, as mine just did.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the speaker may reveal herself well after speakerless conditions have been established. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and then one may ask. was it spoken by that individual all along while remaining masked, or has the speaker suddenly intervened to command a heretofore speakerless tale?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i dont...</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well in your case</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: it certainly did seem like you were the one speaking all along</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: but using different voices</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: that’s true. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: not all situations are like the one i just demonstrated though.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: for as long as the hypothetical speaker of a speakerless story remains masked, then it is true that the story could be seen as either speakerless or spoken. both are true, as well as neither. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is best seen as a null factor, until there is a departure.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: once a hidden speaker becomes unmasked, then retroactively the story may be considered spoken all along.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and so too do we retroactively change how we regard what has already been spoken.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yeah</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i guess with our martyr story</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: by revealing yourself as the teller it turned out...</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: you werent even sympathetic to the very story it seemed you were trying to get me invested in from the beginning</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: almost like a mean prank!</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and so there is a very dangerous and destructive quality to these nebulous forces which i have gone to some lengths to demonstrate for you here.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: not everyone who is affected by these forces is fit to fully grasp their insidious qualities, or the sense of urgency that they must be resisted with.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: this is the sort of corruption i now must dedicate my existence in this new body to ending once and for all.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The cherub falls silent. Aradia takes this to mean this lesson of sorts has ended. She ruminates on it all for a while before speaking again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats all pretty neat i guess</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: so...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: does this stuff have anything to do with this big hole that just opened in the sky</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: no.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: then...  </p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what are we doing here oh great muse</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Aradia starts giggling. Above, the sky yawns open a little wider. Aradia waits, but gets no response.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: even now when youre being uncharacteristically forthcoming youre still impossible to talk to</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i understand that though</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i was like that when i was dead too</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: like what?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: irrepressibly cryptic</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: i see.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: so</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: can i at least take a guess?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: yes.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: HES coming through there isnt he</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: your brother</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: that’s correct.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: are we in danger?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: he will certainly be very angry.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: but he will also be wounded.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and even on his best day,</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: he would be no match for what i have become.</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: 0_0!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The cherub drifts higher and higher. There’s a glint of color at the center of the abyss—a flash like a star going black on the rim of a dying galaxy. Aradia follows behind the cherub, unable to pull her eyes away from the eerie phenomena overhead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what will you do when he comes</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The cherub is focused on something very small falling from above. The bright object flutters down from the broken sky and lands in her host body’s outstretched hand. It’s a feather, burnt at the edges, flickering orange and green.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: consume his body.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: absorb his essence.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: and then using this host, i will generate enough power to move beyond the staggering pull of the event horizon encasing this world.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: a prison of my own making, which can be escaped only through the supreme unification with my other half.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: it is crucial to the cosmos that i succeed.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">JADE: the prince of heart has to be stopped.</p>
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  "41": |-
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">E</span>lsewhere, beyond the horizon...</p>
    <p>A spaceship tears across a starfield at warp speed. Each dot of distant light stretches to become a spear, hurtling in the opposite direction of the craft faster than any photon ever fired from its surface. The ship was brand-new when it departed from Earth C, and it doesn’t look a day older now, even though many hundreds of days have passed. It seems to be built to look somewhat like a shark, by a designer who wasn’t totally sure how many fins a shark hard, nor where exactly to stick them on the beast’s body.</p>
    <p>Inside, a hot iron smooths the fabric of an elaborate garment, releasing a gentle hiss of steam. At a glance, it looks like the top to a god tier costume. But it clearly isn’t standard issue. This one is more stylish, more ornate, more... anime? Sometimes one finds there simply isn’t another word that will do to describe some sick gear. The iron eases the wrinkles out of the icon emblazoned on its chest—a hot-pink heart, bisected vertically, hollow in one half. A shiny, graceful metal hand puts the iron down, removes the garment from the ironing board, and reaches for the pantaloons.</p>
    <p>She isn’t even sure how he gets these things so wrinkly. Perhaps it’s all the time he spends training in the hypergravity chamber, assuming they’ve got one of those onboard. Then again, there are times when he seems so high-strung, he could wrinkle a good anime costume sitting perfectly still in an armchair.</p>
    <p>She drapes the pantaloons over the board, then pauses to reach for the candy bowl nearby. She doesn’t actually need to eat anymore. The entire concept of eating has been upended for her. It’s not about sustenance, or even necessarily about enjoying certain flavors. It’s more about staying connected to a vestigial habit reminding her of the humanity she’s been forced to abandon.</p>
    <p>Not just any kind of candy would cut it. The sensors on her metal tongue are very particular. Weaker than taste buds and arranged differently. These would taste like some combination of battery acid and wasabi to a human tongue. But to her the flavor is mild, exotic, certainly worth snacking on to pass the time. Human teeth wouldn’t stand a chance of cracking these, but hers make short work of turning the candy into fine gravel. One of her more reckless shipmates chipped a tooth trying one, despite repeated warnings to stay away from the stuff.</p>
    <p>The iron hits a snag on the pantaloons, putting an awkward crease in the ridiculous, billowing fabric. She curses and puts the iron down. She decides “laundry day” is officially over. The guy can just wear a wrinkly pair of pants today for all she cares. It’s not like he has an audience, despite his best efforts to behave as if he did all the time. She doesn’t really enjoy doing laundry or ironing silly anime ensembles, and she considers herself nobody’s maid. It’s just that there hasn’t been much to do on this ship.</p>
    <p>It’s not like the old days of her long-range interstellar travels. That halcyon period riding a meteor across the abyss for years, with an atmosphere of camaraderie, feelings of optimism—a rewardingly transformative period in everyone’s young life. She guesses this is just what things feel like on a long journey when you’re older, and with a much smaller crew. </p>
    <p>She turns off the iron, then wanders off down a corridor. It’s nothing like the meteor in here. Bright, futuristic. Skaianet does build a lovely ship, she has to admit. She turns a corner, and her foot kicks something. It’s a stray ruby slipper. The other is about ten feet away, down the hall. No sign of their owner anywhere. She’d sigh, except she doesn’t breathe anymore. She doesn’t consider herself to be <em>her</em> maid either, but she reaches down to pick up the slippers nonetheless.</p>
    <p>She enters a room central to the ship, one that she visits now and then, possibly for sentimental reasons. Or maybe it’s just to creep herself out. Situated near the wall is something that looks like a rather elegantly designed iron lung. It’s mostly made of glass, with polished silver trim around the sides and base. There’s a digital monitor on the wall. She approaches and places her hands on the glass with a faint metal clink.</p>
    <p>She used to live in this body. She’s dressed in the same clothes she was wearing the day she slipped into the coma. A special tiara replaces her typical hairband, lined with blinking transmitters. The device beams her awareness directly into her current mechanical avatar. She presumes it utilizes the same technology that Jade’s grandfather once used to build a dreambot for her, which functioned similarly.</p>
    <p>She knows she’ll never be able to inhabit this sleeping body again. She honestly can’t decide whether that makes her feel sad or relieved. She ponders the future of her old body. Will it all work as planned? She has to believe it will. It is the only path to achieve permanence for these tenuous bodily accommodations.</p>
    <p>A jarring sound snaps her out of her reverie. It’s an alert, beeping urgently from the cockpit. The robot leaves her entombed living body and runs quickly through the winding corridors. She sits down at the helm and examines the monitor.</p>
    <p>A new planet is within sensor range. She studies the millions of statistics all pouring in at once. Her pupil-less eyes take them all in simultaneously, her head needing only to move a quarter inch from side to side to pan her vision across the data. It’s an M-Class planet. The right size, right age, right distance from the sun. There’s no advanced life yet. It’s exactly what they’ve been looking for all these years. </p>
    <p>Her heart doesn’t beat any faster, because its pace is regulated by an internal chip. She consciously accelerates it anyway. It’s been a long time since she’s had the occasion to feel exhilarated. She’s missed the sensation of the old flesh-ticker acting of its own accord.</p>
    <p>The thoughts in her powerful brain race. What will they name the planet? How long will it take for the ship to arrive? Once the new race has established an advanced enough civilization thousands of years from now, who will the lucky kids be? The ones who get the chance to play what will arguably be the most important session in the history of <em>Sburb</em>?</p>
    <p>She holds her thoughts. They can wait, and there’s much to discuss. She taps a button, and lowers her head a little closer to a mic on the panel. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSEBOT: Dirk.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She supplies a courtesy pause, as if waiting for him to reply. He usually doesn’t.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSEBOT: You’re going to want to come see this.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Enough time goes by that she begins to wonder if he’s asleep. But no. It’s just the irritated silence of a man who knows he isn’t currently dressed well enough to attend to something important.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Are my fucking pantaloons ready yet?</p>
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  "5": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            5
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: did you hear that john left his house?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: multiple days in a row even!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO FUCKING WAY. THAT’S INCREDIBLE. I’VE NEVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SOMEONE LEAVING THEIR HOUSE? STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat....</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS IT A SLOW NEWS DAY IN THE CONSORT KINGDOM OR SOMETHING?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade finishes pruning a dead bulb off her arum lily plant and flicks it at Karkat’s forehead. Then she politely pulls the blinds shut, because god forbid even a sliver of sunlight ever infect Dave and Karkat’s hive. Jade doesn’t live here, technically, but there’s domestic evidence of her all over the hive. Her plants, her bass, her clothes slung over the couch where she sleeps for weeks at a time...</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: im being serious dumpass</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i was really worried about him!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M BEING SERIOUS TOO. I WAS ACTUALLY BEGINNING TO WONDER IF JOHN HAD DIED. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT? IT’S NOT LIKE HE ANSWERS THE PHONE.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well if you CARE so much then maybe dont respond with sarcasm when i tell you that hes getting better!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: guys its not a competition we were all worried about john</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: were we??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: whens the last time either of you tried to hang out with him?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN’S THE LAST TIME EITHER OF US LEFT THE HIVE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah shut ins living in glass hives shouldnt throw uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually if we lived in a glass hive way too much light would come in for karkats brutal photosensitivity issues</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so wed probably cover all the walls with like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lots of curtains and sheets of thick fabric</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so i guess maybe we COULD throw stones?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like kinda small ones so that the fabric could easily absorb the momentum</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also me and karkat would probably be too lazy to throw the stones that hard anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so i think actually this scenario is pretty workable here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it provides for a certain threshold of allowable minimum hypocrisy</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave this sucks</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no it doesnt</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im giving thoughtful and critical consideration to a cliche which is long past due</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a glass house with wall to wall curtains creates what im going to theorize as an incredibly important “self owning buffer”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this is a huge breakthrough and also its fucking science</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you of all people should appreciate the work being done here</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh my GOD</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i never thought id be thinking of you as my weird nerd friend by the time we were in our twenties</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah well i never thought youd be like the premiere woo girl on the planet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what are you even doing here with us</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dont you usually spend your weekends at 48 hour interspecies raves or doing arctic expeditions with jake or whatever</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: those two things are not always mutually exclusive hehe</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade floats over to the couch, shooting her two besties a salacious smile. She taps Karkat on the nose as she passes by.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: im just enjoying my youth</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you could be enjoying it too hehehehe</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She retrieves one of her bras from where it’s hanging over the back of the couch. She starts changing it right there, doing that mystical sleight of hand girls seem to be born with the knowledge of, where the bra goes off and then on again without the shirt being removed. Jade doesn’t exactly have the best understanding of “interpersonal boundaries,” having been raised mostly by a dog, but still. It’s a weird, intimate, and uncomfortably close to sexual thing to be doing in front of other people. Dave and Karkat share a vaguely mortified look. Jade sort of lives here, but she doesn’t <em>that</em> sort of live here.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: but seriously.... what do you two even do holed up in here together all the time?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat snorts, still pointedly not looking at her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH I’M SORRY, HAVE YOU NOT SEEN DAVE’S ILL BEGOTTEN ART EMPIRE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HE’S GOT HIS OPPOSABLE DIGITS STUCK IN SO MANY DOUBLE-STACKED HUSKLOAFS THAT EVEN I DON’T KNOW ALL HIS PEN NAMES.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ok so thats what dave does</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what do YOU do??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade puts her feet on the floor and pads over so she can sling her arms over the back of the couch and lay her cheek on the cushion. The look she gives Karkat is just shy of devious. Karkat defensively scuttles to the other end of the couch, where he ends up pressed flush against Dave’s entire left side.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I UH</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sit around and play video games all day?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HEY! THAT’S NOT THE ONLY THING I DO! I’VE...</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DONE LAUNDRY.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: once or twice</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO, WHAT HUMANS REFER TO AS “GROCERIES.”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DO THE GROCERIES.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats not a fucking figure of speech man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you dont do the groceries you go out and buy them</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and even then you dont actually do that</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LIKE FUCK I MPHUMPHLE... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave puts both hands over Karkat’s mouth and does a stage whisper over his shoulder.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he means that he uses the alchemizer in the basement sometimes</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh and when hes in a bad mood hell go yell at trolls on the internet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not like trolls as in the troll species i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: literal trolls who talk shit online</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno a bunch of them could be actual trolls i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but not strictly</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE! </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T FUCKING TELL HER ABOUT THAT.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave reaches around Karkat’s face to give him a gentle poke in the cheek. He keeps his finger there longer than strictly necessary, smiling the noticeably restrained smile characteristic of Striders. The expression is so warm and blatant that it can’t help but draw Jade’s attention. She frowns and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, making some quick calculations in her head. They’re so obvious, she thinks, and yet here they are. Virginal losers who are performative about sitting exactly a foot apart whenever they’re in public. It’s so pathetic it makes her want to howl at the moon in sorrow. </p>
    <p>What she’s planning isn’t a seduction. It’s a public service.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why not dude i think its cute</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hes on all the major political sites of course but he spends most of his time going after people who leave abusive comments on my sweet bro and hella jeff posts</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like hes got a whole complex network of burner accounts and sockpuppets on my homepage set up for every possible scenario</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: jesus christ....</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its incredible hes driven at least ten people off the site by creating thinly veiled parody accounts of their usernames</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MY EXPLOITS ARE HEROIC. GO ABSOLUTELY FUCK YOURSELF.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat shoosh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im so proud of you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: couldnt have done better myself</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well i mean i definitely could have but i have better things to do with my time</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THANK YOU DAVE. THAT WAS HEARTWARMING AND NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT EMBARRASSING. CONSIDER MY HONOR UNDENIABLY DEFENDED.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: actually karkat its more like youre the one defending HIS honor</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: thats sooooo cute.... a knight whiteknighting for another knight</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave its like karkats your adorable little house husband!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhhhh</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK IS A HUSBAND?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: er</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave un-pokes his finger from Karkat’s cheek and tries to shimmy some space between them on the couch, but there’s nowhere to go. Karkat is sandwiched between him and Jade, who is reaching out to put two fingers of her own at the center of his chest. She bounces them there a few times, enjoying the way troll skin is just a bit thicker than human skin, taut like the membrane over a poorly maintained drum.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: a husband.... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She begins walking her fingers up the length of Karkat’s sternum. Karkat knows damned well what a husband is. He’s been force-fed enough bad movies from Dave to pick up any human euphemism you could name. He still plays dumb sometimes, for comedic effect, to irritate his friends, or simply to avoid a topic of conversation altogether. If he’d known it would only fan the flames of discussion in this case, he would have kept his mouth shut.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: a husband is a little like what you both do already</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: only with....... certain “benefits” :)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her fingers reach the hollow of Karkat’s throat just in time to catch him swallow. He starts to sweat.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WH... WHAT KIND OF BENEFITS</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: heheh dont play dumb karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade dude cmon</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: leave him alone</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade does not “come on.” She glides her fingers up under Karkat’s chin so that they can rest on his lips, which are a little chapped. It doesn’t take much work to pop them open and slide both fingers in.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: if youre really that clueless.... i can show you.... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat looks like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. Eyes flickering, breath getting shallow. His bottom lip is trembling where Jade is stroking it with her thumb.</p>
    <p>It would be pretty easy to mistake his reaction for arousal, so it’s understandable that Jade is extremely surprised when Karkat snaps his jaw shut and chomps down on her hand.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: OW!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She flies back, literally, spiraling up towards the ceiling so fast that her skirt puffs up and she gets all tangled in her clothes for a few seconds. She clutches her wounded hand and glares daggers at Karkat, ears flat under her long, dark hair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat what the HELL!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE HELL??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE SERIOUSLY ASKING *ME* WHAT THE *HELL*!?!?!?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE, YOU WERE TRYING TO CHOKE ME TO DEATH WITH YOUR WEIRD, SOFT HUMAN FINGERS! WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO? REACH INTO MY CHEST AND PULL OUT MY FUCKING PUMP BISCUIT FOR A MIDDAY SNACK?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THIS BECAUSE YOU’RE HALF BARKBEAST NOW?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: NO!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i was FLIRTING you dummy!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh my GOD you two really are hopeless!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: why do i even WASTE my TIME???</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S A GOOD FUCKING QUESTION!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade is pissed, but not enough to leave. Instead, she plops down on the opposite end of the couch and petulantly crosses her arms. Karkat peels himself off Dave and slumps into the dip between cushions while settling even more deeply into one of his better-practiced pouts. Dave clears his throat.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so apropos of nothing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just a cool segue into a completely different topic for no reason</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade and Karkat both stare at him. He makes a casual motion with his hand. A smooth wrist swivel, like he’s at a turntable scratching one song into the next. That’s the effect he’s going for, at least.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did you guys hear that jane was gonna run for high office</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO FUCKING WAY</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh wow</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU MEAN...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yep</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the fucking presidency of earth c</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean shes been positioning her megacorp and stocks in a way that looked SUPER suspicious the last year or so, so id wondered about it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but i didnt think shed actually do it!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah she was totally gonna pull the trigger on it after all these years but decided against it at the last minute for some reason</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THANK FUCKING GOD. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A COMPLETE DISASTER.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know right thats what i said when roxy told me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: especially for the economy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: REALLY. THE ECONOMY. THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK IS BAD ABOUT IT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah and the troll thing is bad too i guess</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK, SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOUR PRIORITIES ARE: NUMBER ONE, THE ECONOMY, WHICH LET ME REMIND YOU IS BUILT ENTIRELY ON INFINITE, FAKE MONEY THAT WE CAN MAKE AS MUCH OF AS WE WANT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NUMBER TWO, THE POTENTIAL GENOCIDE OF MY PEOPLE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok wow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: slow our roll here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets slow any roll that makes me seem more xenophobic than i am ok</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHATEVER YOU SAY, DAVE “NOT XENOPHOBIC” STRIDER.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats good</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets keep using the phrase not xenophobic in sentences that contain my name</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SURE MAN. THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE SOMETHING A XENOPHOBE SHITHEAD WOULD SAY AT ALL.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: look im not the bad guy here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jane is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or... was</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: until she decided not to run for president</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets all just thank whichever christ was responsible for making whatever decision resulted in her deciding not to do that</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT, XENOPHOBE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no look</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ill be the first to say that jane is xenophobic as fuck</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im not</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like at ALL?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but she is</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK DUDE</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i dont think shed go so far as to commit genocide</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats really exaggerating her faults</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like wed have to get pretty far away from the people we were when we started all this for that to be a viable outcome</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hmmm</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well i hope she gets a better hobby</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: there are a lot of less ominous things she could do with her time</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT, LIKE FUCKING HER WAY THROUGH HALF THE POPULATION OF EARTH C?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade pinches his ear and twists hard, smiling pleasantly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: get fucked karkat</p>
    </div></div>
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  "6": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            6
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">N</span>o one is answering the door to Jake’s mansion, so Jane lets herself in. There is almost no crime on Earth C, and so almost no one locks their door. In fact, most doors do not have locks, which has been terribly unfair to the struggling locksmith industry. Once, at John’s eighteenth birthday, Dave Strider engaged Jane in a shockingly aggressive debate about the economy in which he accused her of supporting “neoliberal corporate welfare” for pointing out this exact problem, which was... well, such a baffling incident that Jane is still thinking about it at absolutely random intervals five years later. She has an honorary business degree from almost every university on the planet. Dave hasn’t even finished middle school. What does he know about the effective and ethical rigors of corporate bailouts?</p>
    <p>Well, Jane thinks with a heavy sigh, now that she’s not running for president, it doesn’t really matter, does it?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane feels rather like a princess in an animated film with the way her voice echoes up three flights of circular staircase. The mansion is dark and cramped—tall, narrow halls, gothic arches, rooms stuffed in all corners with kitschy junk. Jake has a taste for velvet paintings and faux-antique candelabras, which mesh less than harmoniously with the backdrop of his paisley wallpaper. Blue light filters in from the stained-glass windows on the top floor of the foyer where depictions of cerulean sirens lounge against surprisingly tasteful, modernist backdrops.</p>
    <p>Jane calls his name again, lifting her skirt so that she can climb the stairs one step at a time. From the second floor, she hears a sudden and awful noise: boots scrabbling against wood, glass shattering, hard objects hitting the wall, and the unmistakable roar of a rifle firing. She sprints the rest of the staircase and runs down the hall, <em>clack, clack, clack</em> in her expensive—but understated—kitten heels.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Jake, where are you?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The big oak door at the end of the hallway swings open, spilling orange lamplight into the darkness. Jake steps out, looking ruffled but handsome in corduroy shorts and a dress shirt buttoned up to midsternum. There is a smudge of gunpowder on his cheek. His whole face lights up when he sees Jane.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh jane how unexpected!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you alright?! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What? Of course! Why wouldnt i be?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I heard a horrible noise! What was all the racket?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh this?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake grins and holds up his rifle, which is still smoking from the muzzle.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Just a little morning target practice!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He kicks the door all the way open behind him to show what’s up. A circular sitting room festooned with Christmas lights and paper targets, all of which look as if they have been hit many times with bullets. There is a battle bot hanging out by the fireplace at the back, holding an armful of bottles and surrounded by a sea of broken glass.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: You do this... in... inside the house?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He looks at her like she’s the stupid one.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well of course jane where else would i do it? Bringing this operation outside would only startle the neighbors!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s mouth opens, and then hangs there for a moment as she decides whether or not this particular conversation on household propriety is worth having. Sometimes Jake simply cannot be blamed for the foolish things he does. After all, he literally grew up in the woods.</p>
    <p>Instead, she enters the room and takes a seat in one of the ostentatiously cushioned bergère chairs, careful to step around the puddles of cracked glass.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I must ask jane... it seems that you are rather frazzled. Are you sure you arent the one whos not alright?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane rests her temple in her palm. Jake grabs another of his ridiculous fake-Victorian chairs by the back and swivels it around so that he’s sitting across from her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Have you talked to Dirk lately?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Er not exactly. I would say that i have been talked *to* by dirk.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But the communique has certainly not been two sided.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Ah, yes. It seems that we’re in the same boat then.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I haven’t heard from him. I stopped by his workshop, but it was locked. If he was in there, he wouldn’t come out. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk was the one person on Earth C who took the state of the locksmith industry with the seriousness it deserved. </p>
    <p>Jake scoffs and flops a hand. Both actions are dismissive.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I dont see what all the ruckus is. Our good chum dirk fancies himself a dark and tortured soul. Cutting us off is not entirely out of his wheelhouse.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes, but not like this. It’s been years since he’s done a full blackout on us. Oh, I’m terribly worried.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You worry far too much jane! Life has become so peaceable on this new planet of ours that i suppose dirk has merely tired of this idyllic life. It has either driven him permanently or temporarily insane.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Thats my theory at least. Maybe its tommyrot but i have faith that dirk will be back. After all where is he going to go?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ...You seem rather cavalier about this.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Like, even more cavalier than you usually are.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake laughs, all uneven, and runs a hand through his attractively tousled hair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I must admit i am rather half rats at the moment.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You’re what?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Haha sorry that was a pretty obtuse way of putting it wasnt it.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What i mean to say is that ive been powdering my hair quite a bit today.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He makes a motion like knocking back a bottle. Jane side-eyes the idling battle bot, flush with empty wine bottles, and then side-eyes Jake. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: First thing in the morning?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well i needed the bottles for my target practice jane i couldnt just pour the wine down the drain! Thatd be a waste!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane frowns and leans forward on her knees so that she can examine Jake more closely. She sees it now. The unspecifically precise movement that comes from overcorrecting drunken body language, the unfocus of the eyes... That was a very detailed thesis he had on Dirk’s potential psychology, almost like he’d been giving it a good think. She knew that Jake and Dirk were not officially “together,” and had not been for some time, but their lives were still inexorably entwined on basically every level for some reason she did not understand. One might even say codependently. No matter what he said, this had to be affecting him as well.</p>
    <p>Jane lets out a fluttering breath.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know what, Jake?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You’re right. It really would be a waste!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She pushes out of the chair and goes to retrieve one of the unopened wine bottles sitting over the fireplace. They’re all screw-top, because Jake isn’t that classy. In fact, he isn’t classy at all. His veneer of classiness is about as authentic as an off-brand Halloween mask. Jane has no idea why she can’t get him out of her system, even after all these years.</p>
    <p>She braces herself on the mantle and knocks her head back, taking a long, uninterrupted swig right from the bottle.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jeepers jane! Slow down!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane keeps gulping. She drinks until she can’t stand it, then breaks off, shaking her head and letting out an ungraceful hiss. Golly, that is cheap merlot. Her vision is already swimming. Spilling a bit of wine on herself, she spins around to stare at the silent battle bot. It’s got its hand out, waiting for her to hand over the bottle.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Could you leave us alone, please?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The battle bot tips its head at her with a click-whirr and then looks at Jake, who—traitorously—offers exactly zero backup. Dejectedly, the bot shuffles its way out of the room, but not before dropping every single one of the bottles it was holding so that they make as much noise as possible when hitting the floor. It slams the door behind it. Ah yes, Jane thinks. Scorched-earth policy. That robot was indeed programmed by Dirk Strider.</p>
    <p>Jake is staring at Jane wide-eyed behind his spectacles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane i must ask again... are you quite alright?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Actually no, I am quite not!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I will say. You really seem like youve got the morbs!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She staggers back to her seat and takes another swig of disgusting wine.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I canceled my presidential bid.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What? I was under the impression that you were awfully chuffed about that!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I was so incredibly chuffed about it, Jake. But Dirk called me just before his disappearance and told me to “cancel everything.” And so... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane puts her face in her hand miserably.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: ...I canceled everything. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why jane do you really need dirk to run for president?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I know that he had set himself up as your plenipotentiary but it seems to me that you have everything you need to win the day without him.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane looks up at Jake from between her fingers and under her bangs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well yes, I suppose that I could run a successful presidential campaign on my own merits, especially since Dirk and I developed most of our strategy together.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But now that I’ve pulled out I can’t just go back and tell them I’ve changed my mind. That would be so embarrassing! It would make me look wishy-washy. I can see the headlines now, calling me a “terminal flip-flopper.”</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Also... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Somehow it just doesn’t seem right without Dirk.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake pries the wine bottle from her hand gently. He takes a drink from it, less gently.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dirk has that manner about him does he not?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: A way about him that makes you feel like whatever you do as long as it does not involve him it doesnt count for dick.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He sounds a little... bitter? Jane blinks at him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I hadn’t thought about it that way.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But yes, ever since I talked to him I have felt... strange.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her whole body is numb and floaty. Sure, she chugged the wine. But it’s strange to have gotten drunk so fast, isn’t it? Especially since she spends several nights a month drinking much harder and fancier drinks at investor dinners. Jake passes the bottle back and she takes another drink.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Strange how?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Strange like you just explained... like nothing I do matters. I should be more upset that I’ve spoiled my chance at running for president, but for some reason I find myself not really caring.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And that’s what I’m actually so upset about. The fact that I don’t care!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Instead... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">When did Jake scoot his chair closer? They’re sitting packed so tight now that his bare knees are brushing hers. The air between them is warm and wine-soaked. Jane takes another serious look at him, at his elegant jawline, his dark eyelashes, his handsome nose. It really is unfair that he’s so good-looking while also being so... so <em>Jake</em>. But this is nice, she thinks. When was the last time they talked? Really talked? It’s been such a long time that she’s almost surprised how good he’s being to her right now, considering that she walked in on him in Peak English Disaster Mode. Was it always this easy to talk to him?</p>
    <p>Maybe because of the wine, and maybe just because she wants to, Jane reaches out and sets a hand on his thigh. She leans in closer until she can feel his breath on her face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, this is mortifying to admit, but I’ve been thinking that perhaps I’ve been doing the wrong thing with my life.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Instead of all this business politicking I’ve been doing, what I’d really like... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Is to settle down and raise a family.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Does that sound ridiculous?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why that doesnt sound ridiculous at all! Its just that ive never heard you express such sentiments before.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Except of course for that time when you were under mind control and had me trussed up in your lair as you pontificated villainously about using me as a breeding stud to create a blood lineage for your incumbent corporate space empire.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You still remember that.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane youre one of my most cherished friends. I couldnt possibly forget a single moment weve spent together no matter how sexually uncomfortable the situation may have been.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane feels herself turn red. Why did she think this would be so easy? Jake English was kind of a slut, true, but also their relationship was an emotional minefield. She slides her hand down to cup his knee, rolls her thumb into the dip of the joint there, and tries to remember the drunken advice on matters of seduction Jade gave her once when she was foolish enough to take a weekend off and go on one of her and Jake’s expeditions. She can’t for the life of her remember the substance of any of her lessons though.  </p>
    <p>Jake is still staring at her, drunk and enraptured. She ventures deeper into his personal space.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, Jake, it doesn’t always have to be that way.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Putting business first? Ignoring the good things in my life chasing profit? I’m sick of it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I think that I could be... loving. I could be a good wife.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: For the kind of man who needs a good wife in his life.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Like, say, an eligible bachelor with a hundred empty rooms in his house and no one to help clean them... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Who has been recently and mysteriously abandoned by his long term... “companion.” Or whatever he was.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Someone handsome and lonely and who knows me well enough that we need not fear showing each other our less savory sides.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Such as... being drunk at nine in the morning.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, Jake, isn’t that the dream?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake slants close, casting a shadow over her face. His eyes are so green, and they’re glittering with naked adoration, for her. It’s all for her. He nudges a knuckle under her chin and tips her face towards him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He’s so close that Jane thinks he might kiss her. She shuts her eyes and lets his husky wine-breath wash over her face.</p>
    <p>Instead of kissing her, he says:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I say this sincerely as one of your oldest and dearest friends.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I hope that you have luck in finding a charming and bricky bloke who will summarily impregnate you with as much swiftness as possible and be a responsible father for your children.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: There is nothing for you i want more.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane’s mouth drops open. What was she expecting?</p>
    <p>But Jake doesn’t register her mortification or frustration either. He just keeps smiling and gazing into her eyes, warm and drunk.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, then. </p>
    </div>
    <p>With a deep sigh, Jane shoves Jake off of her and stumbles back to where his horrendous-tasting wine is stored. She pops open a bottle of briny-smelling moscato and tips it back—this embarrassing encounter isn’t going to forget itself.</p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            7
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ohn’s been spending a lot of time with Roxy lately. Which also means spending a lot of time with Calliope, which is awkward, but fine. But it also means spending a lot of time with Gamzee, which is awkward, and not even remotely fine.</p>
    <p>John, Roxy, and Calliope are taking a stroll through downtown New Prospit. Gamzee’s here too, a couple feet behind John, doing essentially the same thing that the other three are doing. Which is walking at a leisurely pace, but he’s being so weird about it that you can’t really call it strolling. It’s more like he’s... holding court, while somehow remaining in motion. Ever since he popped out of that fridge smelling like a sweaty foot, he’s been all “wise” and “sage-like.” John considers that if he were using these two descriptors out loud, he’d make air quotes while saying them. He’d then say Gamzee’s acting almost like a “priest,” which is a word he would also make air-quotes around, due to how insanely full of shit John still believes him to be.</p>
    <p>Roxy and Calliope, however, apparently do not believe him to be full of shit, for some reason. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: isn’t that nice?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee is leading a line of adoring carapacians trailing behind him, telling them stupid, fake-zen stuff like “YoU GoTtA sToP tO sMeLl ThE sEeD fRoNdS mY dUdEs.” Not to be speciesist or anything, but the sight is kind of worrying because John knows all too well how susceptible carapacians are to grassroots populism. He has it on good authority that virtually any schmuck can blunder into a crowd of them, say a few inspirational words, and incite revolutionary fervor amongst the masses. John tries his best to ignore it and walk ahead, but Roxy loops her arm through his and pulls him back.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: were here check it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: where’s here?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: me n callies fave cafe!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s a nice place. Big, oval windows, flowers on all the tables. It’s got a French-ish aesthetic. John says “ish” because everything on Earth C is sort of “ish.” “Alternian-ish,” “Derse-ish,” “Japanese-ish.” He’d even describe the sky as being kind of “blue-ish.” Sometimes, it’s more turquoise than anything. Too crisp and bright, like the old Earth’s sky as seen through a pair of tinted novelty glasses.</p>
    <p>John doesn’t mean to be cynical about it, but he guesses that’s just the mood he’s in. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Calliope insisted on including an unbelievably smelly clown on an otherwise perfectly pleasant stroll.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s it? we’re going to a coffee shop?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i got out of bed for THIS?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh john ur so FUNNY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no seriously roxy i just...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, i feel like i haven’t left my house in years, and with all the stuff that’s been going on, like rose’s illness, or that stuff about the “political situation,” is it really a good idea for us to be having picnics and going out to coffee shops?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh john, don’t worry so mUch aboUt things that yoU have no control over.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: like i said the other day, it’s time for Us to leave Ugly things behind Us.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea for real john cant u just enjoy what a beautiful day it is</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know IM enjoyin it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: since i get to spend it with u like ive always been wanting</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you... you have?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah duh</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She tugs him against her side and rests her head on his shoulder. She’s a bit taller than him in her nice shoes, so it’s kind of awkward. Feels uncomfortable to him, and looks more so for her. But he’s enjoying the attention. Sort of. He missed her, the way she used to be, when the two of them were close as kids. She’s laying it on a little thick for his benefit right now, and while he can appreciate that, it can be difficult to rekindle a friendship after it’s gone cold for a while. John wishes the rekindling period would hurry up and end already so they can just go back to shooting the shit like normal.</p>
    <p>Roxy drags him into the cafe. Calliope doesn’t follow them in, for reasons he can only guess at. He catches a glimpse of her through the window: a little forlorn, Gamzee at her side like a faithful dog. He can’t hear what they’re saying.</p>
    <p>Outside, Calliope clasps her hands and directs a wistful expression through the cafe window, foot traffic splitting lazily around her and Gamzee as they stand in the busy street. At high noon, her little body casts almost no shadow on the cobblestone road.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: sigh.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: WhAt’S sHaKiN sIs, YoU lOoK bUmMeD aLl ThE fUcK oUt.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HoW cAn YoU bE fEeLiNg DoWn WhEn We Be GeTtIn AlL rEdEeMeD aNd ShIt Up In HeRe?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh, it’s jUst... </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: can’t yoU see what’s happening with roxy and john?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee stares through the window. Roxy is leaning across the table to dab at the corner of John’s mouth with a napkin. John looks very confused, because they aren’t actually eating anything yet. Gamzee stares at this for a very long time, his mouth lolling open as he contemplates what is transpiring with the closest facsimile to wisdom he can muster. He puts one of his huge hands on Calliope’s narrow shoulder, all comforting-like.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: Oh YeAh. FoR sUrE yOuR gIrL rOxY iS aLl GlObEs DeEp iN tHaT dUdE’s DaNk NoOk.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yes. and while i can’t say i didn’t see this coming... </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: it’s all happening so fast. I thoUght for sUre i’d have more time with her.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: wOuLd A mOtHeRfUcKeR lIkE mE tO...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee leans in so that his face is level with Calliope’s. His grin shows every single one of his teeth. Miraculously, his breath smells worse than his body.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: MOTHERFUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT? &gt;:o)</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: no!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: gamzee, no, please! it’s fine.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i might be sad, bUt john has made his choice, and we mUst all live with the repercUssions of that.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i’m sUre that roxy will be very happy with him.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: we’re all going to be very, very happy. I trUly believe that. ^u^</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope walks away, looking somewhat less than very, very happy. Gamzee remains standing in front of the cafe, still not entirely convinced that he shouldn’t motherfucking do something about it.</p>
    <p>John notices him there, just outside the window, leering at him and Roxy. His expression is serene, vacant. Calliope is nowhere to be seen.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, hey roxy...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wats up</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: gamzee. he’s staring at us, and it’s kind of creeping me out.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea dont worry about that he gets stuck like that sometimes</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: stuck?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: all wonked out and shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think hes got brain damage from being a burnout its so sad</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is it?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy takes a sip of her tea. Her purple lipstick leaves a stain on the fine china.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah john its totes sad</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: he never had a chance with the kinda life he had</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wat a tragic misunderstood figure :’(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy sighs and spears the cherry atop her cheesecake with the absurdly tiny dessert fork it was served with. She pops it in her mouth with a pouty little lip pop, staring directly at John with her eyes half-lidded. He thinks she might be trying to be sexy, but he’s a bit distracted by the sight of Gamzee lumbering into the cafe with all the grace of an aubergine sasquatch sporting an epic erection. He puts both hands on the back of Roxy’s chair and looms over her. Without breaking eye contact with John, Roxy scoops up a spoonful of cheesecake and feeds it to him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeY rOxItA.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey gamz whats shakin</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: CaLlIE wEnT aLl RuNnInG oFf, UgH.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: aww</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hope shes feelin alright</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ShE’s MoThErFuCkIn FiNe, ShE sAiD sOmE nOiSe AbOuT cAuSe Of WhAt JoHn DiD, wE’rE aLl GoNnA bE oNe HaPpY fAmIlY oF fUcKiN nInJaS fOr MoThErFuCkIn EvEr. :o)</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: heheheh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: gamzee ur one silly dude</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: tbh pretty psyched to see you goin through all this redemption shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i bet you gonna make a baller part of our greater ensemble if ur given the chance</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John attempts to furtively gesture his disapproval with the entire situation toward Roxy by vaguely swiping his neck in a horizontal direction with his fingers, but she doesn’t notice. Instead she puts her fork down, slides her chair out, and springs to her feet with an abundance of this newfound enthusiasm he’s been struggling to understand.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: brb!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: gonna hit the ladies room</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: back in a jiff suckers</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, alright. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John and the date’s repulsive third wheel watch as she scurries to the back of the establishment. The moment the door to the bathroom closes, Gamzee lumbers into a sitting position across the table from John, without the slightest deviation in his heinously awkward comportment. He puts his forearms on the table in front of him, folds his hands, and gazes into John’s eyes with what he has come to identify as Gamzee’s signature brand of faux serenity.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mY fUcKiN *gUy*. :o)</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: My DuDe AnD mY nInJa AlIkE. </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mY *hOrN* dOoOoG.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: mY hOrN tO tHa MoThErFuCkIn DoG. ;o)</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: waiter! help!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">John desperately waves to attract some service, in the hopes that it will provide a social buffer for the appalling interaction that is presently taking place. But no carapacians seem to be close enough to heed his request.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I SeE WhAt’s fUcKiN Up, My gOoD VeRtEbRoThEr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: AlLs aBoUt i cAn sAy iS GaMe rEcOgNiZe mOtHeRfUcKiN GaMe.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU GoT No sEcReTs fRoM ThIs mOtHeRfUcKeR, eGg bOy.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: A MaN StAyS LoCkEd iN AnOtHeR MaN’S HuNgEr tRuNk lOnG EnOuGh aIn’t gOt mUcH LeFt tO FuCkIn hIdE FrOm oNe aNoThEr.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, that wasn’t even my fridge. it was jane’s. i mean... we’ve basically got the same fri—</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: ShUt tHe fUcK Up.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I’M GeTtInG ReAl aT A MoThErFuCkEr rIgHt nOw.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I BeEn rEdEeMeD Yo. I SaId mY SoRrIeS AnD ReDeEmEd tHe sHiT OuT Of mYsElF, dIdN’T YoU SeE?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh... yeah.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: So iT’S InCuMbEnT On a mOtHeRfUcKeR To *SpReAd tHe rEdEmPtIoN*.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU ShOuLd gEt yOuR ReDeMpTiOn oN ToO, mY ChOiCeSt oF DuDeS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: My dAnKeSt oF DoGs.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: SeE, a mOtHeRfUcKeR *kNoWs*.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: YoU GoT ThIs bItCh oN A RoPe, It’s tImE To pUlL HeR InTo yOuR TeNt.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I CaN SmElL It oN YoU, bRoThEr. YoU’Ve wAsTeD YeArS LeTtInG ThIs pReMiUm hO SlIp tHrOuGh yOuR FiNgErS.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: LeSs fUcKiN CoNsCiOnAbLe tHaN AnY CrUdE StUnT I PuLlEd iN My dAy, I MuSt tElL YoU.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: A CaPiTaL MoThErFuCkIn cRiMe tO Be sQuAnDeRiNg eArTh pUsSy lIkE ThAt.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: holy shit?</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: BuT Im aLl gEtTiN YoUr bAcK HeRe, BrO.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I CaN Be yOuR WiNg mAn iN ThIs cArNaL FuCkIn cApEr.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: I CaN HeLp a lItTlE BiTcH LiKe yOu rOmAnTiCaLlY *rEdEeM* hIs sOrRy aSs.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: LeT A MoThErFuCkEr hElP A MoThErFuCkEr oUt.</p>
    <p class="gamzee">GAMZEE: HeR PoPcOrN SkIlLeT’S PiPiNg hOt fOr yOu aLrEaDy. YoU JuSt nEeD A TiGhT AnD LoYaL BoY LiKe mE To sTaRt sHoVeLiNg iN ThE CoRn. :o)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Thinking it unwise to break eye contact with this lunatic, John nods very slowly as he listens, while taking a secret snap of his ghoulish face to send to Terezi. Before John submits, he tags the photo with a message:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i absolutely fucking hate this.</p>
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  "8": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            8
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Did you hear that Jane had been intending to run for president?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes She In Fact Asked Me To Serve A Position In Her Cabinet</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: On The “Board Of Responsible Troll Reproduction”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh dear. What did you tell her?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Not In So Many Words </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Told Her To Kindly Fuck Off</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose arches an eyebrow at her wife, who is tending to the Mother Grub. Rose herself is sitting cross-legged on an outcropping over the lip of the breeding pit, knitting a series of tiny scarves for the grub clones that she and Kanaya have come to help hatch.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That bad, huh?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: She Was Already Talking About Regulating Troll Reproduction</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: With Great Confidence I Might Add As If She Had Already Been Elected</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Very presumptuous of her.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well I Suppose Her Confidence Was Not Unearned</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Who Was Going To Run Against Her</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Karkat?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya laughs to herself, more fond than mocking. Rose turns over another row on her scarf with dexterous ease, switching the knit pattern without missing a stitch. From behind her knitting she watches Kanaya check the shell thickness on a batch of eggs. Her wife is luminous in the early morning light, her rainbow-drinker skin soaking in the pink light and reflecting it back like the inside of a snail’s shell.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t think Karkat would be such a bad candidate actually. Depending on certain factors I mean.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m assuming that in this theoretical scenario, Dave is handling the economy.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Of Course</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Ok. In that case it might have all worked out in the end.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Doubtlessly</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have Great Faith In Karkat And Always Have</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: However I Also Am Not Certain That He Could Step Out Of His Hive Without Catching On Fi–</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Swifer Could You Not Swiff The Mother Grub So Vigorously</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Oh, sorry ma’am!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Swifer Eggmop is Kanaya’s over-eager but well-meaning jade-blooded assistant. She talks a little like a parody of a 1920s newsboy archetype, which Rose can only theorize has to do with Jane’s influence on the culture. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Just tryin’ to get her nice and clean! I heard the New Prospit Hornographer’s coming by later to scope out some pics!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Swifer is at the center of the breeding pit, knee-deep in birthing juice as she mops down the Mother Grub’s exoskeleton. The parturition of troll grubs is apparently an arduous and grisly task, one that has stained the Mother Grub’s shimmering white exoskeleton rainbow-dark with various secretions.</p>
    <p>Rose takes a moment to feel grateful that her current relationship alignment leaves no chance for her to ever be “human pregnant.” Not that she has any particular distaste for motherhood. It might be nice to adopt a little troll grub once the whole ball on natural production gets rolling. </p>
    <p>Swifer adjusts the rate of her swiffing to a more acceptable level of vigor. She shines up the last of the segment she’s working on, then twirls the mop over her wrist with a martial flourish that absolutely recalls the fact that she is from a natural-born warrior species. She then gets to work washing the Mother Grub’s horns.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What’s this about the Hornographer?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Since when has the press taken in interest in our activities down here?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Yes You Were Busy Dying When I Set All Of That Up</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: The Mother Grub Is Mature Enough This Year To Process Inseminated Slurry For The First Time In Our History</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If The Government Gives Us The Go Ahead We Can Begin Breeding Trolls The Natural Way Next Month</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Arranged The Newspaper Story When... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: When Jane asked you to sit on the “Board for Responsible Troll Reproduction”?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes The First Thing I Did Immediately After Screaming Into A Pillow Was To Call My Acquaintance At The Paper</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Now That She Isnt Running It Doesnt Seem Very Important However</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Actually Im Not Terribly Interested In Politics At All</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Without Anger Motivating Me I Began To Think About How Its Probably Very Irresponsible For Any Of Us To Use Our Influence In Such A Way</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I agree. In fact, I’d just assumed that most of us had arrived at such a conclusion.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Not Jane Apparently</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Or Dave, I’m sorry to say.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">There’s a third member of their social group who definitely hasn’t arrived at the conclusion that his power and influence should be meted out responsibly either. Neither of them speak his name, however. For some reason, it feels like a shadow passing over the sun. A brief spike of pain flickers through Rose’s head, a bolt that strikes between her eyes and splinters out. There is color and light behind it. A vision that tears through the material reality in front of her and gives her a brief glimpse into a parallel reality where things are very different.</p>
    <p>It’s gone as soon as she notices it. The image never materializes. She ties off the last row of her scarf and unwinds her knitting needles from the wool, a serene smile tugging at her lips. Since waking up in the hospital, she has stopped worrying altogether about what might be happening in splintered timelines. She has stopped worrying, in fact, about almost anything at all. A pleasant breeze rustles through her hair, carrying the sweet scent of early spring from the mouth of the chasm. Rose closes her eyes for a moment and breathes it in: taken just one minute at a time, a day can be filled with hundreds of perfect moments.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Whatever Inconvenient Party Ruining Opinions Dave and Jane Might Have About The Economic Future Of Our Planet Its All In The Past </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have A Very Good Feeling About Where Things Are Going Now</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see. So are you the Seer now?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Can Make Predictions Based On Existing Evidence</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And If I Can Spend Every Day Like This Doing The Work That I Was Born To Do With The Person I Am Most Fond Of In The World By My Side</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Believe That I Can Handle Anything</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Hmm... Did you really use dialogue like that to win my heart, or are we getting complacent and incredibly uncool in our old age?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Convinced You To Marry Me I Dont Think That I Am Obligated To Be Cool Anymore</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya, you’re the “coolest chick” I know. </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Are You Doing With Your Hands</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, you know. Just one of these...  </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Please Dont Tell Me Youre Attempting To Do The Strider Thing</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Thing He Does Where He Pretends To Operate An Invisible Record Player</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: B)</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: God</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Who’s the cool one now?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Sure Isnt You</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Ma’am and Ma’am’s wife! Bank’s closed, ladies!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: The first egg is hatchin’ already!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya twirls on her heel, skin flickering bright as she lifts her skirt and jumps into the breeding pit. Rose sets down her needles and follows, walking along the edge of the pit to the place closest to the eggs. She crouches to watch the miracle of life begin.</p>
    <p>She’s never taken the time to come down here before and see the grubs hatch. Probably because she’s been too busy diminishing melodramatically on the couch to take an active interest in her wife’s life calling. The grub is already chewing through the chitin eggshell with all its little legs moving sinuously in offbeat concert.</p>
    <p>Swifer is sniffling. She makes the motion of wiping away a tear, somewhat cartoonishly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Golly gee oh my. This part always makes me tear up.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Kanaya dips down to help the grub out of the shell. Her skirt trails through a puddle of birthing jelly, but she doesn’t seem to care. There’s an awed expression lighting up her face, in addition to the literal light emanating from her skin. She tears away the last chunk of the shell. It’s mottled and rough, like a rock on the outside, but has a layer beneath like mulched flesh. Kanaya’s hands are soaked blue with bloody yolk when she finally lifts the grub and holds it up to the light.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Look</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose looks. All troll grubs appear kind of samey, but this one has a familiar look about her. Asymmetric horns, one crescent, the other harpoon-like. A mussed mane of hair and a mischievous glint in her beady little eyes. Particularly the one with seven pupils. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Vriska?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Pretty Close</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: A Reasonable Genetic Approximation</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: This Brood Has Been Utilizing A Slurry Consisting Of Genes From Our Original Group Of Twelve Trolls</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Mostly This Results In Unique Individuals</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But Sometimes Very Close Copies Occur</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: As With The case Of Ancestral Descendancy </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So... Vriska would be this troll’s ancestor?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Wow. </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose I Think This Is A Sign</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: A sign of what?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Havent We Been Talking About Adopting A Grub</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Eventually, yes. But a natural-born grub. Don’t you think it will be somewhat... awkward, us raising a clone of your sort-of ex?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What happens when Vriska comes back? What do we say to her?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Vriska Is Dead So It Doesnt Really Matter</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is she dead, though?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Absolutely</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: There Are Two Things Of Which I Have No Doubt</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That You And I Are Going To Be Happy For The Rest Of Our Lives </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And That We Are Never Ever Going To See Vriska Again</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Baby-Vriska wiggles her six talons. Kanaya cradles the little grub against her chest and pokes it in the nose. The grub reacts by blowing a bubble of bright cerulean yolk membrane out from between its lips. To her own surprise, the sight melts Rose’s heart in an instant. The emotion that hits her feels like one of her old visions. Suddenly she can see her and Kanaya’s future so clearly, like a map rolled out at her feet and stretching far into the horizon. Kanaya is right. Vriska is dead, and despite everything, she died a hero. Vriska was a complicated figure of contrasting extremes; her heroic actions were matched in scale only by her monstrous ones, and since no one had actually witnessed her end, it was impossible to say which side the pendulum swung and judged her death—Heroic or Just.</p>
    <p>It would be a fitting memorial for her and Kanaya to raise a version of Vriska who would be given every chance to make good on her noble characteristics. A true, symbolic redemption arc. Something about the thought appeals to Rose’s taste for the dramatic flourish. It would be proof that this was all worth it in the end: the destruction of multiple universes, the death of Kanaya’s friends, the circuitous rites of suffering experienced by the nearly infinite splintered versions of every being to inhabit Paradox Space...  </p>
    <p>Rose loves her wife fiercely in this moment. The new Mother of her species, framed in a literal halo of light. She can’t contain her excitement. She leaps into the pit with Kanaya and runs to embrace her, not caring about the irreversible rainbow-colored stains that she’s smearing into her dress.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh Kanaya, you’re right. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We are going to be so astonishingly happy!</p>
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  "9": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            9
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: arent you guys happy to get out of the house for once!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade’s tail swishes back and forth under her striped skirt as she takes a great, big sniff of the fresh outside air. It’s early evening on the outskirts of the Troll Kingdom. One by one, neon-bright windows are lighting up on the hives in the distance. Karkat is still shielding his eyes against the dying strains of the sunset. His shoulders are scrunched up so high that his cheeks disappear into his turtleneck. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO ACTUALLY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T GET WHAT’S SO GREAT ABOUT IT. I CAN SEE THE SAME BULLSHIT FROM THE COMFORT OF MY HOUSE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CHECK IT OUT. A GIANT BILLBOARD OF JAKE ENGLISH COMPLETE WITH A GYRATING MECHANICAL ASS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT A TOTALLY NECESSARY THING TO SHOVE RIGHT INTO MY GANDER BULBS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DEFINITELY COULDN’T HAVE LIVED WITHOUT SEEING THAT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude ok dont pretend you dont spend at least 15% of your day ogling jakes ass on television anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in fact youre doing it right now</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WELL I CAN’T HELP IT, DAVE, IT’S RIGHT FUCKING THERE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD, ARE THE MECHANICAL GLUTES ON THAT BILLBOARD ACTUALLY PADDED WITH PLUSH TO MAKE THEM MORE LIFELIKE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah see crazed fans kept climbing the billboards to cop a feel so dirk designed the second run of them to have an accurate recreation of jakes butt density</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HE DID WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its wild dude its like exactly spot on</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WAIT </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOLY FUCK, HAVE YOU ACTUALLY TOUCHED JAKE’S ASS???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean not necessarily on purpose but who hasnt </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like i wouldnt say its so much that i touched his ass its more like his ass copped a feel of my sweaty palm one time and my poor fingers havent been the same since</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sometimes i wake up from a fevered sleep and find my reluctant groping hand huddled in the corner of my bed all shaking and shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the mind represses but the body remembers</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive thought about taking my hand to a psychologist but i dont think the little guy is ready to talk about it yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway have you seriously never touched it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I HAVEN’T!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not even by accident like brushing by in a crowded elevator</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T SPEND A LOT OF TIME STANDING IN ELEVATORS WITH JAKE FUCKING ENGLISH, OR FOR THAT MATTER, DOING MUCH OF ANYTHING WITH THE IDIOT, AS YOU WELL KNOW.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what im hearing is youve tragically never touched his ass and its a bit of a sore subject with you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that why youre so obsessed with it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ?????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do you wanna touch it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shit can be arranged my dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: here ill text dirk right now i bet he can pencil you in to cop a feel sometime next week</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO I DON’T WANT TO. PUT YOUR PHONE THE FUCK AWAY. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE ARE NEVER HAVING A PLAYDATE WITH DIRK AND JAKE AGAIN, ESPECIALLY NOT ONE ARRANGED FOR THE EXPRESS PURPOSE OF ASSAULTING ONE OF THEM.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude jake lives for this shit </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its not assault if his ass is begging for it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait wow that sounded bad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets strike that one from the record</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway its no problem he literally will be delighted to hear you want to spend time with him for some insane reason</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: STOP TEXTING RIGHT NOW!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat tries to tear Dave’s phone out of his hand, but Dave simply levitates several inches off the ground to hold it just out of jumping distance. Jade, pouting a bit, glides in between them and uses her Space powers to teleport Dave’s phone out from the center of his traumatized palm and into the pocket of her sweater.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: hey can we focus here?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: jakes ass isnt the one you two should be talking about right now</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD, JADE DO YOU EVER FUCKING STOP. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR ASS EITHER.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’VE SEEN IT ABOUT AS MANY TIMES AS I’VE SEEN JAKE’S. THE NOVELTY HAS WORN OFF, ASSUMING THERE EVEN WAS MUCH TO BEGIN WITH.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade leers at the boy who may have just implied her ass was nothing to write home about. Her canines are longer and sharper than a normal human’s, making her grin seem more predatory in nature, especially when she wants it to be. Karkat shivers at the sight of it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: thats NOT what im talking about...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade grabs Karkat’s right hand, and then Dave’s left one, and she begins to pull them toward each other. Both boys recoil, but she is much stronger than them.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cmon what are you...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She’s doing it. She’s making it hapen.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: this is a DATE dummies!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO, STOP!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat makes a fist so tight that his nubby fingernails pinch his skin. Dave does the opposite. He makes a flat palm, and raises it as if to stop traffic.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: no..... let me.... show you.... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you have to... turn it... flipwise!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She turns Dave’s hand so that it’s cupping Karkat’s angry little fist in its palm. When she pries Karkat’s fingers open finally, they snap close around Dave’s almost automatically. Karkat’s eyes go a little lightbulb-like. Dave’s gone pale and a bit sweaty.</p>
    <p>Jade claps, then makes a rectangle with her thumbs and forefingers, framing her hand-holding besties at the center of it. She’s taking a picture with her brain right now—Dave and Karkat, being all shy and intimate with the romantic backdrop of a brilliant twilight behind them. A pretty portrait. Put her in the middle of it, and it’s a work of art. Just what she wants the rest of her life to be. After all, where would these two pitiful beta boys be without her? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: see i dont mind at all!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i would never try to break up what you two have.... im just trying to make it BETTER!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">With a satisfied smile, Jade dips under their arms and hooks her hands around either waist, pulling Dave and Karkat up flush against her. Their fingers remain entwined behind her back. She begins walking them down the ridge of the hill, beaming brighter than the first stars in the sky. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: see isnt this perfect?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: it could be like this all the time you know... the three of us in every combination</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: or whatever combinations you two are comfortable with </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: heheheheh.... positions too!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave has gone catatonic. Karkat’s just as quiet, but it’s a quiet that’s as loud and alarmed as his actual voice. He’s got his head turned away from the situation he’s been forced into, as far as it will go. He’s concentrating so hard on looking elsewhere that he trips over a rock and is only saved by Jade picking the three of them off the ground as she takes flight. Karkat’s legs flail when his feet go out from under him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AUGH! DON’T DO THAT!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU KNOW I FUCKING HATE THAT!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade sets them back on the ground, cackling like the witch she is. Karkat still won’t look at her. She stops laughing abruptly, sensing that her plan isn’t going as well as she’d hoped. She views the two boys as a broken electrical circuit, and herself as the conductor between the two charged points. She just needs to maneuver it into the correct configuration, like she did with their hands. She does a few quick calculations in her head, refusing to give up on her assumption that relationship issues can be solved the same way math problems can.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: dont worry karkat theres nothing to be scared of... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well take care of you... right dave?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave doesn’t answer. She answers for him by leaning down and planting a dry, affectionate kiss on Karkat’s cheek. He yelps and leaps away like he’s been scalded by a burning iron, liberating himself from the deeply uncomfortable hug triad.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OKAY THAT IS IT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I AM DRAWING A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND RIGHT HERE AND NOW, JADE. YOU WILL CEASE THIS ENDLESS VIOLATION OF MY PERSON WITH YOUR MOUTH, FINGERS, AND OCCASIONALLY, YOUR FUCKING TAIL.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I AM NOT A PIECE OF MEAT THAT YOU CAN BRUTALLY AND VICIOUSLY MOLEST WHENEVER YOU’RE BORED.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: brutally and viciously?????</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: :\</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALRIGHT, IT’S POSSIBLE I’M OVERREACTING. BUT THAT’S MY *FUCKING RIGHT* AS A FREE AND AUTONOMOUS PERSON WITH A CERTAIN DEGREE OF FUNDAMENTAL BODILY SOVEREIGNTY ENDOWED TO HIM BY THE GODS OF *MOTHER FUCKING CONSENT*.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (mm hm)</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sigh...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M GETTING AT HERE, WHICH IS THAT I WANT YOU TO STOP DOING SHIT LIKE KISSING ME WITHOUT ASKING PERMISSION FIRST.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: karkat youre absolutely right</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and i couldnt agree more with you on issues of consent as everyone whos gotten to know me well enough is perfectly aware</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: BUT</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im not the one who kissed you silly.....</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHA...?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade covers her mouth coquettishly and winks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: it was.......DAVE!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave turns around, shoulders going rigid, and eyes popping open like he’s just awoken from one of the terrible, sweaty nightmares he was projecting onto his hand earlier.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i what</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you kissed karkat! finally!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: n</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i didnt</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why would i...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave hesitates. Jade is giddy with anticipation. She couldn’t possibly look more pleased by her own handiwork.  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i have no idea what youre talking about</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i would never</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre wack jade im not</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wack????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why would i kiss karkat ive never even once thought about kissing karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how would you even fucking do it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hes so </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: petite</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M WHAT?!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok yeah im gonna admit that was a weird thing to say and has got dick all to do with your kissability</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GOD DAMN IT. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS YET??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what i mean is like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how could somebody kiss this guy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like anybody</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: when his teeth are so</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN MY TEETH ARE *FUCKING WHAT*?!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theyre just</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like theyre huge and</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not always in your mouth</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so like how would a guy get his tongue in there</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TONGUE??????????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat begins hyperventilating, and momentarily forgets his beef with Jade long enough to lean on her to prevent himself from toppling over.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youd have to be really careful to like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean if you were INTENDING to kiss karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean its not like ive put any thought into this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but youd have to be so careful like just so totally gentle in your approach to it because hes so</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ENOUGH!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CEASE! I COMMAND YOU!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk im just spitballing and this is literally the first time the thought has like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: EVER popped in my head?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but upon earnest reflection i dunno if im up to the task</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: um</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s mouth hangs open a bit. His gaze flits from Karkat to Jade and back again. His palms are wet, but his mouth is dry.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im not</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i was never</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were not</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s mumbling protest slows to a stop.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually ya know what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont have time for this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: peace dudes</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave ollies the fuck out of there, flash-stepping between one second to the next, disappearing thirty seconds into the future with the gusto of a piece of garbage flying into the fucking sun. Jade stares after him, blinking at the glare of the afterimage he left behind. It’s a glimmering slice of ultraviolet that only she can see. It lingers in the unstable particles between the air.</p>
    <p>She huffs and puts her hands on her hips.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: wow RUDE!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: siiigh. i forget sometimes how immature dave can be</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well karkat i guess its just us.... do you still wanna go split a plateau of grub spaghetti at the noodle barn?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat, when she turns to address him, is staring at her slack-jawed. He takes a step back, but isn’t watching where he puts his foot. His heel goes into a dip in the hill and he goes stumbling backwards, feet over head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AH!! FUCK!!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOULD!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK! OUCH!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: A LITTLE!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HELP?!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MAYBE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AAUUUUGH!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade could probably catch him. Actually, she could easily do it, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of favor you should do in a fledgling kismesissitude. So instead she watches him roll all the way to the foot of the hill, knees and elbows bouncing around all rag-dolled and furious as he swears up a storm. He hits the ground back first and just lays there for a few minutes, completely owned. He watches the darkening sky with a hollow look on his face for at least an entire minute. Then he slowly pulls himself to his feet and brushes the brambles off his pants. He points up the hill at Jade and shouts.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FOR THE RECORD</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JUST SO WE’RE BOTH CLEAR</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS IS WHY I HATE LEAVING THE *FUCKING HOUSE*!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He absconds, limping a little and rubbing the left side of his ass, which unfortunately for him affords nowhere near the level of padding as Jake’s legendary backside. Jade puffs out both of her cheeks and stares after him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: well i guess im eating grub spaghetti alone</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: *again*!!!</p>
    </div></div>
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"meat":
  "1": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">MEAT<br/>EPILOGUE ONE</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            1
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">M</span>eat was definitely the right choice, you think, as grease drips down your chin. The meat is cold and undercooked, so you have to grab it with both hands while you rend it apart with your incisors. It bursts in chunks, filling your mouth with blood and your throat with mangled knots of gristle and long strings of muscle fiber. You take big bites, almost too big to swallow, so big that you choke on the meaty mulch and hock some of it up into your nasal cavity. You sneeze out a gooey rope of phlegm and flesh. You stop for a moment to wipe your face, but your chin is still slippery after you swipe the mess away. Slivers of meat catch between your teeth as you masticate with bestial enthusiasm. You use your thumbnail to fish them out.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Finish up.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Some of the blood has coagulated on the surface of the plate. You grab it from Calliope and lick it clean. She watches you—calm, placid, alien. Roxy has leaned forward to scrutinize your slovenly feasting, her eyes wide and intense. You stare back at them with your hands coated in unctuous organic matter and flecks of seared skin. The blood on your hands is so thin that it’s like oily Kool-Aid pooling in your palm.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Think, suddenly, about all the many horrible crimes committed by Lord English.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">God, that guy is the worst. The memory of his stupid face and his terrible art and all the abominable misfortune he has caused across multiple universes and time lines makes your meal start to curdle in your stomach. The meat sits there like a big, lardy mass—a black hole bursting the universe apart around it. You feel like rocks are churning in your gut and your mouth begins to water, hot and sour. The flavor of the afternoon air changes around you and it’s too hot, almost suffocating. You swallow back a mouthful of pungent bile as your eyes swim and lose focus.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; You know what you must do.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know what i must do.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Of course you know. What kind of guy would you be if you stayed here, when you’re the only one in existence capable of completing the grim task? A pretty shitty one, who just sneezed up a chunk of raw meat in front of a girl you used to have a gigantic crush on.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i have to go back and kill lord english. </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u sure?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think so. it will probably be hard. but i think it’s the right thing to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everyone is counting on me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy pulls back and takes a deep breath. It’s a very thin breath, and her bottom lip quivers a bit when she sucks it in. She looks disappointed, though you could be misreading her, as usual. Calliope looks... well, her face is a permanently grinning skull. You’ll be damned if you know what’s on her mind either.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i understand</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">No one says anything for some time. A pleasant breeze rolls down from the hills. In the distance, the bell tower chimes twice. You notice that a group of carapacians have stopped to stare at you with beady-eyed fascination. The front of your shirt is stained with dark, slimy patches from the meat. Christ, why did you have to eat that meat like such a slob? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, is that it?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: should i, uh... get going?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: if this is yoUr decision, then yes.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: there’s no time to lose, if the choice yoU have made is to matter.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope closes up the picnic basket and stands. Roxy follows, taking Calliope’s hand in hers again.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Say goodbye?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok then.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: umm...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: thanks for inviting me to this picnic.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: guess i’ll see you both... when i get back?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Neither of them reply. You look from one to the other, then back again. A loud belch escapes your mouth, catching you completely off guard. The gastrointestinal ambush releases an invisible cloud of chewed-up protein odor into the public park. The gross ball of muscle roils and snarls in your belly like an unruly groundhog, prodded yet reluctant to come out and see its shadow. Ugh, <em>why</em> are you thinking about this?!</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Hug them, dummy.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You hesitate a few awkward moments too long. When you go to hug them, they’ve already turned away, leaving you standing in the middle of the park alone with your arms half-raised, cupping the air. It’s so pathetic that the eavesdropping carapacians finally scurry away, overwhelmed by their secondhand embarrassment. You didn’t even know they could get embarrassed. </p>
    <p>You drop your arms and sigh. Time to get on with it.</p>
    <p>Before you leave, you fly back home and take one last look around Salamander Village. You breathe in the clean, crisp air, listen to the pipes chime, soak up the unfiltered sunlight. You then head inside for a wipe down, since it feels like you’ve been making face-down snow angels on the floor of an ill-kept slaughterhouse. You head to your bathroom and wash all the meat off your face. But somehow you still don’t feel that clean. An invisible layer of oil seems to cling to almost every square inch of your body no matter how hard you scrub. </p>
    <p>You go to your bedroom desk and dig out some stationery.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Write: “dear roxy,”</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You’ve never written a note so quickly, or with such clarity of heart and mind. When you’re done, you write nine more. Your hands leave grease stains on the paper.</p>
    <p>You leave ten envelopes on your bed, arranged in a tidy circle with the names of your ten closest friends written on them. Then, with absolutely no fanfare, you leave all of them and this idyllic world you’ve created behind and zap yourself back into canon.</p></div>
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    <a href="/epilogues/meat/2">==&gt; </a><br/>
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  "10": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            10
          </h3>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ane Crocker sweeps into her office with grace befitting her station and slams the door shut behind her. The sun cuts through her venetian blinds, painting butter-yellow strips of light all the way from one end of her impeccably tailored office to the other. It’s a lovely day, like most days, so not terribly remarkable except for the horrid news that she has just received at her customary morning press conference. </p>
    <p>Jane comes to a brisk stop alongside one of her floor-to-ceiling windows—which span a full two-thirds of her office—and brushes her hands over her hips to smooth the wrinkles out of her powder-blue pencil skirt. Then she hems, haws, puffs out her cheeks, and takes a very deep breath before snatching a pillow off the nearest couch so that she can scream into it.</p>
    <p>There are, surely, a multitude of ways for a person to find out that an acquaintance is running against you in a presidential election. From a carapacian reporter, in front of twenty-six other members of the interspecies press, was not the method Jane would have personally chosen. She is certain that she retained her poise and managed not to look too shocked at the news. She did not exclaim “What?!” but instead managed to eke out through gritted teeth and pursed lips a reasonably thoughtful-sounding “Hmmmmmm!”</p>
    <p>She cannot believe that Karkat would do this to her. This is no longer a political fiat (which the election would surely have been had she run uncontested by any other civilization-founding celebrities) but rather a battle between “friends.” What did Vantas think he was doing?</p>
    <p>No, no—it’s not Vantas, Jane realizes. This could not have possibly been Karkat’s idea. Jane knows Karkat. Not intimately, or even casually, but well enough to have made a generalized assessment of his basic character over the years. He is not cut out for politics, neither intellectually nor in the very important matter of social constitution. Certainly not when it comes to economic policy. In fact, Jane is pretty sure that Karkat Vantas would probably literally burst into flame if too many people happened to look at him at the same time, like a vampire walking out into the sun.</p>
    <p>Wait. Jane lowers the pillow from her face and stares at her brass-and-glass art deco ceiling. Was that vampire thing xenophobic against Kanaya? Or whatever it was that Kanaya was supposed to be? No, of course not, she assures herself. With trolls it was the other way around: vampires were the only members of their species who didn’t balk at the sunlight. Another reason Karkat would make a poor president. Unless... he ran as the Night President? No, the idea is foolish. Best not to give him any ideas. There can only be ONE president.</p>
    <p>No, surely this must have been Dave’s idea. The kind of plot hatched from their little nest of mutually supportive, codependent, interspecies... whatever it was they had going on over there. Dave was certainly no Dirk Strider, no Rose Lalonde, no Roxy, but he had that same scheming gene, buried deep down beneath his transparent onion layers of posturing and, frankly, rather outdated humor. An instinct to plan. And despite being inarguably the dimmest of his family’s impressive ecto-biological stock...  </p>
    <p>Oh, dear. Stock. That’s likely a problematic word, isn’t it? Jane thinks. She crosses it off her mental list of “appropriate words to say during a press conference.” </p>
    <p>She returns to her train of thought. Despite being the least mentally gifted member of his family, Dave has always had an awful lot of opinions on the economy. In fact, Jane cannot remember a single conversation she’s ever had with him that wasn’t about the economy. She thinks back to one time at John’s eighteenth birthday when Dave engaged her in a rigorous and rather one-sided debate about deregulation and the failure of “neoliberal austerity measures” until Karkat had to come over and put his hands over his roommate’s mouth to make him stop talking. Come to think of it, of the few direct interactions with Karkat she’d ever had, this struck her as a truly great act of benevolence toward the common good. Maybe... he <em>would</em> make a good president?</p>
    <p>NO! She cannot succumb to such thoughts of weakness. She will not.</p>
    <p>Jane tosses the pillow back onto the couch and begins pacing the length of her office. This really was a disaster. She knew that she was solid on several demographic metrics; the human one, most certainly, and the well-to-do carapacian districts. But Karkat was incredibly popular in the Troll Kingdom, obviously, and carapacians were widely known to be swayed by underdog populism. And the consorts? Who had even given them the right to vote in the first place? In any other year... </p>
    <p>Jane hops up to sit on her desk and kicks off both her shoes. She picks up a pen and begins to chew the end to bits to stop herself from doing the same to her lower lip. In any other year, this wouldn’t be a problem. She’d be happy to accept a graceful, temporary defeat and let Karkat play president for a couple of years. After all, unlike her, he was not immortal. But Earth C’s paper-thin idyllic history was very close to a boiling point—its very first boiling point, in fact, which will have everything to do with the problematic nature of troll reproduction. The first generation of natural-born trolls obviously cannot be entrusted to a troll.</p>
    <p>Which was absolutely not a xenophobic thing to think. It was just realistic. The citizens of Earth C were able to rest easy knowing that the government held careful rein over the... well, over matters of equity. No one could possibly trust something so important to a troll, knowing what everyone knew about their violent history.</p>
    <p>Losing this election could mean social unrest, protests, even war.</p>
    <p>Jane presses her eyes shut and runs her fingers along the fine-grain patterns in her mahogany-paneled desk. She is about to think something that she has promised herself never to think again. In fact, she is about to say it—this horrible, ghoulish, girlish thought that used to rule her world and make her so terribly weak. The shameful thought is expressed out loud in the form of a defeated sigh.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I need Jake.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She spins around and, still sitting on her desk, presses a familiar entry on her phone’s contact list.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ahoy ahoy!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane has to suck in a hard breath to stop herself from groaning. Why were so many of the finest young minds on this planet slaves to this foolish man’s perky glutes?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Hello, how are you doing?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: As well as can be i suppose considering that i just woke up in the middle of a mafficking ruckus at the stadium after getting beaned in the pumper with the ol’ horse tranquilizer trick.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Which i suppose i should have seen coming, as dirk has ended all of our matches in this fashion for the past week. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh dear. That sounds absolutely terrible, Jake. Is there anything I can do to help?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Help? Gadzooks woman! I hardly think myself in need of help.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its a jolly good adventure working with someone so predictably unpredictable as our good friend dirk!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You would think that Jake enjoyed the sadomasochistic nature of his and Dirk’s personal and professional relationships. Judging from the last conversation about election strategy with Dirk, he seems to be perfectly aware of this feature of Jake’s personality. You can’t be too nice when courting his endorsement, Dirk would say. He doesn’t respond to nice.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Be that as it may, Jake, I still do worry about you an awful lot.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well that is...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">On Jake’s end of the line there is a crash, followed by a noise that sounds suspiciously like something big and hollow and metal connecting with Jake’s head. When Jake comes back to the phone, he’s yelling into it. Jane grimaces.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: ...very sweet of you jane! I appreciate very much that you have called me out of the blue to say such nice things to me with no ulterior motive!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">From anyone else, this would have been a portentous statement. However, Jane knows that Jake English could not have possibly meant this with anything but the utmost sincerity. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, you know that I—</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Because i must note that although i try to stay sporting about what comes at me, i cant say that i am chuffed about how much of my correspondence lately has to do with the marketing of my image.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its beginning to feel like all people want from me is to stick my derriere on a signpost for their own profit.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, Jake. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You’re right. It must be so difficult. For you more than the rest of us, due to your, let’s say...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Natural gifts?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Huh?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But you know that I have always wanted what’s best for you, right?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And I am ready to give that to you.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: To give me what?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: The best, Jake. The very best.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake is quiet a moment, and Jane can hear the rusty gears turning in his head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: You should stop by to see me this evening!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Do you mean my evening or yours? Were in different time zones right now and i dare say that the sun just went down here so if you wanted to have a soiree on my time youve missed your chance.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane feels her fake smile flexing so hard that it was beginning to hurt. Oh yes, she loved this man in basically every category that you could possibly love a person, but sometimes talking to him is like trying to build a house of cards while riding a mechanical bull. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Mine, of course! I’ll have the best year of your favorite crocodile-made scotch flown in from the Consort Kingdom and we’ll have a little catch-up. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake actually hates scotch, and only drinks it for appearance’s sake. But for this—for this unbelievably pivotal moment in the history of the planet that they created with their bare hands—Jane is willing to spend a few thousand boonbucks to watch her old friend pretend to sip at the same glass for a couple of hours while prattling on. </p>
    <p>And she’s willing to do more than that, too.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: When’s the last time we’ve done that, just you and I?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You know what? Youre quite right. Its been a spell since weve met up without dirk.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: An unforgivably long one at that! Whip me up a kipper jane ill be over promptly!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: A... kipper?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She considers asking if he intended to request that she literally prepare a fish for his arrival. But of course, Jake has already hung up.</p>
    <p>With a heavy and somewhat regretful sigh, Jane sets her phone down on the desk. Well, she thinks, that’s that. Time to work your magic, Crocker. </p></div>
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  "11": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            11
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>hat’s that, you think. Your glasses are broken forever, and you totally fucked up and underestimated young Lord English. Rose should have known better than to trust this to you alone.</p>
    <p>Rose, <em>Rose</em>... your smart, amazing friend Rose, you can almost hear her voice now.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Listen closer, jackass.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Oh, wait. You do hear her voice. Vibrating low and muted through the wall of your cell. You’ve only realized right now that your cell has walls, because it’s awfully bright in here. It’s so white that nothing in the cell is casting a shadow. Looking around, you realize there is no apparent source to all this bright light, making it hard to tell where the floor ends and the walls begin.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John? John? Are you there?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her voice is muffled, coming from what you presume to be an adjacent room similar to yours on the other side of the wall.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i’m here. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, thank goodness. Everyone’s accounted for then. Are you okay?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Are you OKAY?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think so. i can barely hear you though.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You can hear a thud from Rose’s corner, like someone slumping against the wall in relief. Well, that’s what you’re doing at least.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: —ay?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah im fine too but this is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this is kinda dorky to say out loud but i dont</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: feel... time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats not just me right you guys feel it too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or dont</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean theres obviously space inside this box but i cant do ANYTHING</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its like im blind</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The noise outside the juju grows. Something sharp and metallic splinters above and rains down on the top of the chest.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What did my future self say it was we had to do?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: erm... she never rea—</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she—</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: I CANT HEAR YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: UM, SHE NEVER REALLY TOLD US WHAT WE HAD TO DO, EXACTLY?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: JUST WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, IN A REALLY LOOSE SORT OF FASHION?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: DOES THAT MEAN WE’RE STU— </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The metallic noises rain down harder, drowning out Rose’s attempt at being loud. </p>
    <p class="no-indent" style="margin-top:15px">PLINK, PLINK, SMASH.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: NOW I CAN’T HEAR YOU!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: TRY USING LESS WORDS</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The length of the silence coming from Rose’s corner communicates just how difficult a task that is for her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: SHE SAID THE JUJU WOULD GET LOADED AND UNLOADED.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: SO, I MEAN, IT JUST GOT LOADED I THINK?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: WITH US.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: SO???</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: SO I DON’T THINK WE’RE TRAPPED IN HERE FOREVER.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: WE’LL BE UNLOADED FROM IT... AT SOME POINT?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: WHAT?????</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: I KNOW IT’S ALL A BIT ABSTRACT, BUT...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: NO, I JUST CAN’T HEAR YOU!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: JOHN YOU SUCK AT YELLING</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: UGH!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You stop trying to loudly reassure the worried teens for a moment, and just think. Now you understand defeating young Lord English was never supposed to happen. Not the way Adult Rose was implying it would. You surmise the other four teens remaining outside the juju were the ones meant to be tasked with his defeat. And judging from the cacophony still emanating from beyond the walls of this house and its confining chest, they are taking the task seriously.</p>
    <p>But what does this mean for the four of you?</p>
    <p>You try to picture what’s going on in the battle outside, but it’s not easy.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Use your imagination.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">In your imagination, the battle is quite vivid and exciting. The coolness of the action in your mind’s eye is belied by the actual sound effects booming all around you, which you can only describe as vaguely stupid. There’s a lot of hysterical screaming, which, if you’re not mistaken, is coming exclusively from the male combatants. There’s a sudden swelling of energy that speaks to a vastness behind its power source. Almost as if an outrageous bubble of pure Hope were enveloping the stage, is how you would describe it if you didn’t mind sounding ridiculous. Then you hear... it can’t be. Horses?? No, not simple horses of flesh and bone. These horses are metal, if we’re to believe they’re horses at all.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Stop using your imagination.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">This isn’t getting you anywhere, and clearly your silly imaginative whims aren’t doing the slightest bit of justice to the actual awesome things taking place out there in the heat of battle. Frankly, your theorized skirmish lost the handle on any legitimacy it might have had the moment you started thinking about horses. You figure no one will ever truly know what’s happening out there. You doubt anyone would even be able to handle how incredible the raw, unfiltered account of this teen brawl actually was, so it’s probably for the best.</p>
    <p>As you slip out of your fanciful conjecture, which may or may not have included a mechanical horse ambush, you overhear Dave from one of the rooms below you, raising his voice to speak to either you or someone else. You’re not sure. You place your ear to the floor again.</p>
    <p>He’s speaking to Jade. They’re attempting to reminisce again, to the best of their ability to do so while shouting through a wall. Once more you ruefully reflect on these teen versions of your friends, and all the questions they must have for you. For each other. What would you even say to them?</p>
    <p>Would you want to tell them about the happy outcomes, knowing they might never get the chance to experience those things for themselves? Would you tell them the sad outcomes, thus reinforcing their insecurities and suspicions that they may never truly be capable of living happy lives? You’re not even sure you could handle it, if you were Teen John. You’d have too many follow-up questions, which Adult John is in no way prepared to answer. Would you tell them what’s up with Roxy and Calliope, again having no real grasp yourself over what’s up with them? Would you tell them Dave and Karkat... uh... live in a hive together watching TV all day, and Jade maybe kinda sorta lives there too, but nobody quite knows what’s really going on with that? Would you tell them about Terezi...  </p>
    <p>For some reason her name feels like nails in your heart. Makes sense, you guess, cause there’s a lot of sharp letters in it. She had sharp teeth too, and sharp elbows. Sharp words. Terezi Pyrope was a sharp girl, and maybe what these sharp feelings are trying to tell you is you miss her more than you realized.</p>
    <p>She wouldn’t have let you neglect relationships with certain friends for so long that you missed whole chapters of their lives. She wouldn’t have put up with you moping around with the salamanders for so long. She would have kicked your ass for being such a loser about everything. She would have poked you in the forehead and called you insufferably lame and told you to pick up the damn phone. You would have called her a weirdo and pretended you hated it, and maybe you would even have believed you hated it. But now, sitting here in this little white cubicle, contemplating your regrets, you don’t think you’d have hated it much at all.</p>
    <p>Would you tell the teens that?</p>
    <p>You’d probably never tell anyone that. Not even her.</p>
    <p>Another arbitrary thought hits your brain, completely unrelated to the subject of Terezi, or what you would or wouldn’t tell a bunch of incarcerated teens, or so you think.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: am i... depressed??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You ask aloud, quietly enough that your friends cannot possibly hear it. All the question does is crawl back down your throat and burrow into your gut like it lives there. And it does live there, because as it turns out, you are really fucking depressed. You’re just a giant, wet meat sack of self-involved misery, and all that big, wet, meaty ooze drips out your mouth every time you open it. All the time and space in the world isn’t making it better. It’s something you should have been doing for yourself, instead of waiting around for things to get better.</p>
    <p>Well, screw waiting! It’s boring as hell! You are JOHN EGBERT, after all, immortal CREATOR OF WORLDS, the one and only man ever to completely transcend the partitions of CANON ITSELF. You’ve got these powers, remember?   </p>
    <p>You hold up your hands and form a rectangle with your fingers and reach outside yourself, outside canon, to the place your retcon powers come from. You focus. You strain. You contemplate with all your might a place you can zap to, any place but here. </p>
    <p>You wait. And wait. And wait and...  </p>
    <p>Nothing happens.</p>
    <p>You slump back down against the wall, and your despondence eagerly greets you again. Like an old friend ready to pat you on the back and say, good try man. I’ll always be here for you, when you fail. Thanks dude, you think. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ROSE WAS RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: THE JUJU HAS TO UNLOAD.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: THE WHAT... HAS TO WHAT??</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: THE ONLY WAY OUT OF HERE... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: IS FOR US TO WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO LET US OUT.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: SORRY GUYS. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: OH.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ALSO... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: I THINK I MIGHT HAVE DEPRESSION?</p>
    </div></div>
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  "12": |-
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            12
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so we gotta hit jane right in her neoliberal austerity measures were all agreed on that right</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UH HUH.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah sure</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: now shes gonna spin some shit about supply side economics but we cant let her control the narrative on that one cause the first thing thats gonna happen once she begins deregulating the baking industry is that some sweet dumb crocodile down in consort land is gonna start putting sparkle glue in the cupcake mix which isnt even the real issue thats just surface issues</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: RIGHT.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: definitely</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean earth c has just been play acting capitalism the last five thousand years while we timeskipped ahead to live rad lives as gods without bothering with any of the boring shit that goes into making a civilization </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is fine i mean you cant really expect a bunch of teens who didnt finish middle school to set up a sustainable form of social democracy that isnt just blatantly ripped off whatever we incorrectly thought obama god rest his soul was doing back in the day</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SIGH</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but janes got this old school mentality you just know she wants to restrict grist alchemy for the sake of “growth” and when that goes down itll take three seconds flat for some nobody in new dersetown to drop the earth c communist manifesto</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: at which point were in for a speedrun of either our 20th century or her 21st century</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were gonna glitch under the map straight from marx to clown dictatorship</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which also isnt the real issue</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH YEAH.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: of course</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you two even listening or are you just making noises with your mouths</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOW DARE YOU.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M BEING ACCUSED BY DAVE STRIDER, REIGNING EMPEROR OF SPEWING ENDLESS VERBAL DIARRHEA DIRECTLY INTO MY INNOCENT HEAR DUCTS EVERY DAY OF MY FUCKING LIFE, OF MAKING THOUGHTLESS MOUTH NOISES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE, ARE YOU HEARING THIS?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im scandalized</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: especially when</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: there are much better things we could all be doing with our mouths.....</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s been a really nice day they’ve been having, and then Jade had to go say something like that. The air in the hive changes in a way that is palpable, in a way that she can’t seem to accurately gauge despite having both superhuman and superdog senses. She’s lying on her stomach on the floor, chin in her palms, glasses slid down to the tip of her nose, kicking her legs in the air. Elements of her outfit resemble her god tier jammies: peasant skirt, sparkly flats, and a bold choice in striped tights. Her tail swishes from side to side, showing way too much of her thigh, which isn’t really all that salacious considering three of her bras are thrown over the back of the couch where she crashed last night, and the night before that, and the better part of the seven years before that. There are other personal effects of hers in the living room too: plants on the windowstill, her bass guitar sitting in a corner, a horrific-looking periodic table that Dave made her for her seventeenth birthday pinned above the stairwell. He typed it in Comic Sans, and then deep-fried it to oblivion with JPEG artifacts. </p>
    <p>Everyone in this room knows each other way too well, so what happens next goes a little like clockwork.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Says Karkat, for like thirty seconds straight as he retreats into the bulk of his sweater. He scoots a half foot to put his back against the couch when Jade pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looks at him.</p>
    <p>And Dave, with his preternaturally perfect timing, sweeps a hand over his tablet to bring up a new PowerPoint slide on the TV. He returns to his Comic Sans-written political presentation, gruesome artifacts and all, with the grace and proficiency of a man who has diffused an awkward situation in his own household many times per day, every day, for many years.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway we all know the real issue is troll reproduction</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this election season is gonna be so jacked up with dogwhistles jade will never sleep again</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: woof!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo get ready for the top propaganda hits of the year</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: alternia: brutal eugenics based space dictatorship</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOT UNTRUE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: troll homeworld: lord of the flies nightmare scenario where kids murder each other just to get the chance to get to grow up and murder other aliens instead</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT WASN’T THAT BAD.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actual names of professions on alternia: threshecutioner </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: legislacerator </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: minister of sucking the eyeballs out of your fucking skull then putting my two monstrous hr giger tier troll dicks up in there and just mashing the shit out of your brain with them</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU MADE THAT LAST ONE UP.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO, IT WAS DISGUSTING??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GROW THE FUCK UP, YOU UTTERLY CONTEMPTIBLE, POTTY MOUTHED *CUNT*.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: also you know trolls dont actually have two dicks dave thats an offensive stereotype</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know thats the point keep up guys</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ready for another one</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: trolls: literally ate babies</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ONLY THE DEFECTIVE ONES.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like you my dude</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...YEAH.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so thats why our campaign can work</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: btw im gonna be giving a long form exam at the end of this to make sure youre retaining info because this is only like the most important thing weve ever done collectively</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: siiiiiiiigh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: aside from creating the universe i mean</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its not that it isnt important dave its that like</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: the method youre using to communicate it is kinda........</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: inefficient and BORING</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you mean </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: words</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean YOUR words specifically!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: we already understand the issues at play you dont have to explain it to us over and over again like were twelve</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: right karkat???</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU ASKING ME WHETHER I’VE HEARD THIS EXACT SPEECH ALMOST WORD FOR WORD, INCLUDING REHEARSED VERSIONS OF BOTH THE COLORFUL METAPHORS AND “JOKES,” TEN OR TWENTY TIMES ALREADY?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE THE ANSWER WOULD BE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES, OF COURSE I FUCKING HAVE.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat elbows Dave in the thigh, a move that is obviously meant to be an action of pure, brotherly jest. But instead it comes off as affectionate and overly intimate. Jade’s clever eyes don’t miss this. Her pupils follow the motion of Karkat’s arm, and then they follow the movement of Dave’s mouth as he smiles in what he probably thinks is a totally neutral expression that reveals exactly 0% of his true feelings toward Karkat Vantas. In reality, his veneer is as thin and transparent as cellophane. He is the only person who can’t see through it.</p>
    <p>Jade does some calculations in her head. Two kinds of calculations, in fact: mathematical ones and personal ones. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: soooooo</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: do you want a projection of her first years hit on the economy down to the decimal with a 0.3% margin of error</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: because thats a thing i can do if itll make you stop talking about this stupid election for ten minutes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn hit me up girl calculator</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i dont think youre wrong about janes plans</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She proceeds to dazzle the two boys with explications on complex math utilizing taxation rates, GDP figures, and some damned thing called the “Laffer curve,” which she easily could have just invented to own them both. But the truth is, she cares too deeply for these boys to fabricate silly-sounding economic models on the spot in order to make them seem foolish in front of the camera later. </p>
    <p>The thing about Jade Harley is that she’s not as good at personal things as she is at other things. Like science, or mastering fraymotifs, or kissing, the last of which she has definitely put a lot of levels into over the past few years because, well, what else are you supposed to do with immortal godhood once you hit the age where the dog hormones start kicking into overdrive? She rolls over and hitches up on her palms so that she can stare her two friends down. Her high-prescription lenses make her eyes look anime-huge. They might literally be glittering, she’s so completely serious about the issue she is trying to stress.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: so now that thats all out of the way</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its time to get real you two</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: that wasnt an invitation for you to make a pun about having all the time in the world or whatever it was you were going to say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im about to lay out some cold hard evidence so pay attention!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, HANG ON, LET ME GET A PEN.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: evidence about.....</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: our relationship!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you let me live in your hive when im in town</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im preeeetty intimately entwined in both your lives </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT YOU’RE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: AND you dont disengage from about 86.234% of my flirtations</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KEEP TRACK OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: so....... are we doing this or not?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DOING WHAT?!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dating dummy!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT IS </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT IS... A COMPLICATED TOPIC IN MY CULTURE THAT I’M NOT SURE HUMANS ARE EQUIPPED TO TALK ABOUT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also totally unrelated to the economy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which not gonna lie is the only thing i want to talk about for uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for however long it takes for this other conversation to stop happening</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: so say no!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UHHHHH</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im not just forcing this conversation for my sake! its for you two as well </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i mean after all this time have you two even kissed yet??????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wha</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WH-WHY WOULD</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhh</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY WOULD WE KISS??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S... YOU... I MEAN, HE’S... HE’S DAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND I’M KARKAT.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yes hes dave and youre karkat and everyone we know always calls you that</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: “dave and karkat” </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i cant remember the last time i heard anyone mention one of you without the other</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: the two of you have basically been together since your days on the meteor its SO obvious</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TOGETHER, YES. AS FRIENDS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yea</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: VERY CLOSE FRIENDS WHO UNDERSTAND AND SUPPORT EACH OTHER ON A DEEP AND EMPATHETIC LEVEL THAT GOES BEYOND HATE OR PITY. YOU COULD EVEN SAY THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP...</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...TRANSCENDS QUADRANTS.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeaaaaaah not gonna lie karkat but that sounds totally kinda gay</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH YOU HUMANS AND YOUR UNFATHOMABLE GENDER BASED QUADRANTS.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade faceplams. She does it a little too hard and slams the bridge of her glasses into her forehead. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: ow!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ANYWAY WEREN’T YOU... DATING THAT CARAPACIAN COUPLE? LAST TIME WE CHECKED?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade drags her hand down the bottom half of her face and sighs.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah for FUN</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im twenty three dont you think thats a little old to still be dating for fun</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait you saying we arent fun</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: whens the last time either of you left the house??????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade sighs and crawls closer. She takes one of Karkat’s hands in hers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i think wed all work good together</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">In her other hand, she tries to grab Dave’s wrist, but he flash-steps to the other side of the couch. She pouts at him and keeps holding Karkat’s increasingly sweaty palm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: and i think weve been dancing around that for years now</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i wanna try dating for real</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SORRY IF WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY TOTALLY BLOWS YOUR MIND</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DATING A SINGLE PERSON, FOR MORE THAN HALF A SWEEP, FOR REASONS OTHER THAN INITIATING THE CONCUPISCENT EXCHANGE OF FLUIDS?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade’s grip on Karkat’s hand gets a little too tight, but her big-toothed smile remains flawlessly pleasant. This is a common sort of exchange between them and could be easily considered flirtation on several different metrics, especially considering the history between them and the sheer level of black flirtation that Karkat accidentally indulged in during his insecure youth. He doesn’t even pull his hand away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: ok first of all dont slut shame me fuckass</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: second of all thats what im trying to do here</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: third of all karkat arent you from a culture where people are expected to engage in romantic relationships with up to like five people at a time??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S NOT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S NOT THE SAME THING AT ALL.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh yeah??? explain the fundamental epistemological difference</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK?!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok jade i think theres a flaw in your approach here cause you seem to think winning an argument on super clever logical grounds is gonna get a couple dudes to break down and fling themselves at you in like, a sexual way</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wellll it usually does ;B</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh my fucking god</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This earns Dave a look. A long, sad one that has Jade messing with her glasses again so that she can peer right at him and apply some more of that faulty personal math to his facial expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave...... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: is this...........</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: about obama???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dave are you in love with obama?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade jesus where do you get this shit from</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: is it about jesus then??????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus wasnt even real</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i know he wasnt real!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wait... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: are you saying</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: obama was real?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: obama was real</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he was the president</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: all this time i thought obama was like </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: an aspirational fictional character that you modeled your life after </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AHAHAHAHA I CAN’T AHAHA BREATHE...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like snoop dog or nicolas cage</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS IS FUCKING INCREDIBLE</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: they were both real too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know that you grew up on an isolated island in the middle of nowhere and everything but didnt you have like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: access to the internet</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wow well im sorry i wasted my whole childhood filling my head with pointless things like astrophysics and senary numeral systems that allow me to do complex equations in my head!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no dude thats kind of fucked up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat stop laughing jades fucked up childhood isnt funny</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HAHAHAHAHA YES IT FUCKING IS!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO SCREW YOU FOR SAYING IT’S NOT FUNNY??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY IS IT LIKE SOME SORT OF *TRAGEDY* HOW SHE WAS RAISED?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE SHE WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: *I* WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK OFF AND LET ME ENJOY THIS!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat has finally pulled his hand away so that he can clutch his stomach, he’s laughing so hard. Jade gets up and stalks over to where Dave is awkwardly cowering at the other end of the couch and snatches his tablet from him. There’s a ripple in the room that makes it clear their god tier powers have just clashed against each other. He shifts his arm through time and Jade warps the space around them so that she’s the one holding the tablet. This is not the first time that they have rearranged the fabric of reality for a petty reason like this. Karkat has permanently sworn off playing board games with them.</p>
    <p>The moment Jade brings the paint program up on the television, Karkat stops laughing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He tries to grab the tablet from her, but she’s hovering well above the ground and he simply is not tall enough to reach. With a shit-eating grin and deliberate care, Jade begins to draw a grid.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: ill put this in terms karkat will appreciate, check it out </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JADE, I SWEAR TO...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat jumps and tries to grab her skirt, but she swims through the air with ease, giggling as she doodles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU BETTER NOT BE DRAWING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE DRAWING!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her artistic skill even at the advanced age of twenty-three still leaves something to be desired, but it’s pretty easy to produce recognizable caricatures of the three people in the room right now. She gives Karkat a pair of fuzzy, angry eyebrows and starts drawing other lines. Sinister lines, with salacious meaning. It’s exactly what Karkat fears: a shipping grid.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: STOP! CEASE! DESIST THIS MOMENT! DO NOT DRAW ONE MORE LINE!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh nooo im drawing a line karkat better stop me before it goes aaaall the way from my mouth to yours!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat catches the back of her shirt and she goes plummeting weightlessly to the floor, still laughing. Karkat tries to wrestle the pen out of her hand, but all he accomplishes is turning the redrom trajectory between her and Dave into a redrom loop-de-loop. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: see me and karkat have great black chemistry!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT IS NOT BLACK CHEMISTRY YOU HORRID NON-CHITINOUS WINDBAG!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade and Karkat roll over each other on the floor and he gets a mouthful of her hair </p>
    <p class="no-indent">for his trouble. Jade comes out on top and sits on his back, humming to herself as she crafts her grand design.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: and now that daves all chill hed make a great auspistice</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She says, cheerful and oblivious.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: because you and karkat are kind of like moirails</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and you and i</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well yknow its always been pretty flirty</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: EXCEPT!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade finishes drawing a shaky heart directly into the paint program. It’s so big and bright on the TV that it fills the entire room with red light. Karkat raises his face and stares at it in utterly bereft horror. The sick light makes the bags under his eyes look like divots. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: in this model..........</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: troll quadrants are dumb so we ALL kiss!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i call this political arrangement:</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: fully automated luxury polyamorous space-time communism!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">No one reacts. Karkat is defeated, completely. Dave has just crossed his arms and pressed his mouth into a thinner line than usual. Jade’s ears flatten and she huffs. It sounds a little like a dog whining.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh come on that was a good one!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its politically relevant and everything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade im not gonna laugh at your made up ship name for this imaginary threesome thats not happening</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade rolls her eyes and tosses both the tablet and pen over her shoulder. Dave flashes across the living room to catch his very expensive computing device in both arms. The pen bounces off his forehead. Jade dismounts from Karkat’s poor, abused, terribly mortal spine and brushes down her skirt.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: well ive said what i wanted to say</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its up to you two what you do with it</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i have to go talk to roxy and callie about the election anyway</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: call me when you two figure it all out!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade clicks her heels together to propel herself back into the air and actually winks at them before absconding through an open window. She has to push the thick curtains aside to do so. Karkat hisses when the light spills over his face.</p>
    <p>What Jade leaves in her wake is not quite the emotional scorched-earth situation that she was going for, but a few of her needles have definitely gotten under some skin. Dave and Karkat both stare after her, silently caught in their own private rationalization spirals.</p>
    <p>Karkat needs to verbalize part of his out loud.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW WHAT A CRAZY AND TOTALLY IMPROBABLE CONVERSATION WE JUST HAD WITH OUR BEST FRIEND JADE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: y...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT A GOOD THING FOR US THAT SHE’S TOTALLY DELUSIONAL AND HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S TALKING ABOUT, HUH?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for sure</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave offers Karkat a hand up from the floor. When their palms connect, there’s a moment where something could happen. A little spark of potential. It would be so very easy for something to happen. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...........</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ..........</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WANNA PLAY SOME TROLL TONY HAWK?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hell </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
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  "13": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            13
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="Command" style="margin-top:0">&gt; Be John again.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">It seems as if you’re attempting to be John again, with the expectation that we might spend a little more quality time with him in his cubicle of misery and self-loathing. You guessed we might really start to unpack his depression issues. Get to the bottom of all that. Well, nice try. John can’t be here right now, because he’s stuck somewhere in the harrowing nexus between canon, post-canon, non-canon, outside canon, and fanon. He also can’t be here right now because, for the time being, we’re done wasting our breath on such a sad loser. It’s well overdue for the true hero of this tale to take center stage.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Be Vriska.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Lord English stands before you in all his time-eating, universe-ending glory. You rode in here like a total badass, and now you’re presiding over a whole host of ghosts ready to throw themselves once more into the maw of this final battle. You know that this isn’t your battle to win, but you are definitely the sign of the tide turning. Hell, you ARE the tide. This whole thing would have been pretty dismal if you hadn’t shown up with the treasure chest containing the ultimate weapon, not to mention your flawless defeat of an obstructionist, hectoring, orange man, who for reasons you cannot begin to comprehend seemed to be obsessed with you.</p>
    <p>You have already executed what is probably the most important tactical maneuver ever performed by a hero in the history of heroism: you deployed the white, house-shaped juju from the red chest. It grew to an enormous size, slammed down on whatever was passing for the floor in this esoteric battle environment, and a door materialized on its surface. You now stand off to the side looking especially pleased with yourself, waiting for the legendary weapon to unload itself toward the hulking tyrant. </p>
    <p>You’ve now got two bitches of either gender at your side: your main girl Meenah, who you stole from that embarrassing past version of yourself that you owned so hard you bet she’s probably <em>still</em> crying. And Tavros. Not just any random ghost copy of Tavros, of which there appear to be thousands. <em>Your </em>Tavros, specifically, who’s been pathetically trailing after you like a lost barkbeast since you showed up.</p>
    <p>You’d be hard-pressed to describe what’s happening right now. If they sent a poet, maybe he’d do better job of it. But they sent someone who’s actually <em>useful </em>instead, so you’ll give it a shot. It looks to you like the complete obliteration of space and time, the end of all things, the disintegration of literally thousands of ghosts. And no doubt your admirers out there would love it if you described it all in painstaking detail, but you’re not an executionist. You just call it like you see it, and what you’re seeing right now is pretty awesome.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Observe Lord English.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Kind of an overworked character design, you think to yourself. If someone showed you a drawing like this on their FLARP sheet you’d probably be obligated to immediately kick their ass. There’s a lot going on, from his vein-popping muscles to his eight-ball eyes to his pirate leg and his ostentatiously bright, gold pimp cane. Years ago, you brutally criticized Terezi for adding a dragon-head staff to her Redglare cosplay. The argument that ensued was so bad she didn’t talk to you for an entire week. Now that you’re seeing this, well... you wouldn’t apologize to her, <em>o8viously</em>, but in retrospect maybe her accessorizing wasn’t so bad. At least she understood the basics of having a simplified silhouette.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: im goin back fin</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: you comin vris</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Of course!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: But give me a minute.</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: I want to SEE.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Meenah gives you a grin and a salute and leaves you to it. This is what you always felt you were destined for, somehow. Standing at the end of the universe and seeing how it all goes down. Tavros is clinging to your arm like a little crybaby, while crying, you assume, and probably soiling his dumb little pair of shorts. But not you. You’re fearless. Your eyes are so wide that it feels like you’re eating all the light through them. That’s what you are, after all. <em>The Thief of Light</em>. You crane back your neck and: </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Watch Lord English put a crack in reality.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s beautiful. You thought maybe he’d do something stupid, like punch the sky with his gross, throbbing muscle arm? But all it takes for him to shatter the roof of existence is a single, ear-splitting roar. Around him, the ghost army scatters. Tavros flinches and hides his face in your shoulder, and probably pisses himself again for good measure. But you...  </p>
    <p>Get smashed in the head?</p>
    <p>It was so fast and dark you didn’t see it—the shard of space-time that split off from above and hurtled toward you. Your body rocks back, whiplash fast, and you nearly keel over. You’re still standing though, and laughing. That’s what you were doing when Lord English put a split in the fabric of reality. You were <em>laughing</em>, not crying. It doesn’t hurt at all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="tavros">TAVROS: vRISKA,,, aRE YOU OKAY?</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Shhut up!!!!!!!! I’m... I’m </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You stagger back and put a hand to the head wound. Your eyes spin. All eight of them. It’s not a big deal though. Just a scratch. It’s fine fine F8NE.</p>
    <p>Your hand comes away coated in thick blue. Your hair is soaked with it all the way down on one side. Why is broken space-time so <em>sharp</em>? Like splintered obsidian. Feels like it barely grazed you, and yet...   </p>
    <p>Everything around you begins to spin, and you’re not sure if... you can’t <em>quite</em>...  </p>
    <p>A stream of blood begins to leak in under your glasses. Noise whirls around you: Lord English losing his shit, ghosts shouting, moving, the broken-glass sound of the ceiling of space splitting into hundreds of shards of potentiality. There’s a hum beneath all of it, a deep, dark reverb, a black hole sucking everything into the dark maw of infinity. You wipe your bloody hand on the leg of your jeans and sneer with rage. You won’t go down so easily. </p>
    <p>Tavros tries to steady you, but you slap his hand away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Fuck 8ff!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="tavros">TAVROS: uHHH OKAY, iT LOOKS REALLY,,, kINDA,,, eXTREMELY BAD,,,,,,, tHOUGH,</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: You’re so intolera8le! I... I need to........ </p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: Tavros, g-go. Find... f8nd Meen8h.</p>
    <p class="tavros">TAVROS: i,</p>
    <p class="vriska">VRISKA: N8W T8VROS!!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros scurries off into the fray to find someone less worthless. You try to catch your bearings so that you won’t miss a single instant of the battle, but you’re distracted by something in the corner of your glasses. Your Trollian alert is blinking. There’s a message from Terezi. How long has that been there? Hours, days? You suddenly wonder if it’s been years from her perspective, waiting for you to respond, given how time moves differently out here. Were you too preoccupied with your incredible heroic exploits to notice?</p>
    <p>Focus, Serket. This is no time for sentimental thoughts. You need to get a grip. Keep your head in the game, keep both feet planted firmly... whoops.</p>
    <p>Your feet slip. Without Tavros to keep you steady, you lose balance and begin drifting. You try to regain your footing, but you realize you aren’t in danger of falling over. That’s not the problem. You can’t seem... to get your feet back on the floor? You feel light. You’re... floating. You flail your legs, scraping the tips of your shoes against the floor, but it’s no use. </p>
    <p>You understand what’s happening. It’s the black hole.</p>
    <p><em>It’s starting to lift you up.</em></p>
    <p>You glance wild-eyed toward the glowing juju. Its four chambers and peaked roof are pulsing with the energy of raw imminence. This is it! Everything you’ve been waiting for, whatever it is, is about to happen. <em>Where’s Meenah?</em> You desperately try to stabilize yourself, slow your ascent, anchor yourself back to the floor in some way. Any way. But there’s nothing to grab on to. There’s blood in your eyes and your depth perception is fucked. Your hand goes wide and your fingers close around empty space as you reach impotently toward the glowing symbol of everything you ever believed you were meant for.</p>
    <p>This can’t be how it goes. As you continue to levitate, gaining speed in the direction of the insatiable cosmic body, you can see your blood trailing behind you in wet, cerulean blobs. The juju glows brighter. You need to see what happens next. You NEED to SEEEEEEEE! You’re so frantic, grasping for purchase in the empty air, that you aren’t ready for it. Another black shard of space-time hurtling through the void. It collides with your chest, right at the place where your ribcage connects, and sends you spiraling ever faster toward the deep, dark maw of infinity. A black hole is something not even a god tier player can survive, you suspect. And even if one could, you highly doubt there’d be any clawing your way out of its event horizon and back into relevance. Not this time. It’s a fate worse than anything you can imagine, and as it truly sinks in—what is happening to you, how this is <em>ending</em> for you—finally you lose all sense of composure. You flail, spin, and flip in helpless little circles like a bloody rag doll, and you begin to scream. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md weight-bold">—</div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; JOHN: Emerge from the juju.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">The first thing you hear is a tiny scream getting sucked into oblivion. The voice is familiar, but not as familiar as the second thing you hear, which is a <em>crack</em>.</p>
    <p>It’s not just a crack in your ears. This crack goes all the way down your spine. You almost don’t react to it because it’s so familiar. Around you, a cacophony rises up like steam.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its really popping off out here</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s voice reminds you that your teammates have emerged from the house along with you. You survey the group. Everyone is account for. Three confused, frightened teenagers.</p>
    <p>You can’t see anything but big, bright smears all along the horizon. You fish the two halves of your broken glasses out of your pocket and hold them up to your face. The scene comes into focus: the eye of a storm, a black hole so massive it stretches as far as you can see. An army of ghosts swirling and screaming, whipping around you like leaves in the wind, and at the center of it all is Lord English, just like in your dream. </p>
    <p>You can feel it now. The moment reality yawns too wide and snaps in half. </p></div>
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  "14": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE THREE</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            14
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ake yawns and knocks on the window to Jane’s office again. For some reason Jane has the shades pulled shut all the way around, so he’s been hovering here for way too long in his best tie and his best pair of short-shorts. There’s a crowd gathered below, gaping at a rare in-person appearance of a globally famous butt. The sunset has turned the head offices of Crockercorp into a shimmering glass monolith—a beacon, if you will, of the future, visible for miles in every direction.</p>
    <p>Jane probably likes to think about it that way at least.</p>
    <p>Speaking of Jane, she pops her head out from between two strips of silk-lined venetian blind to glower at Jake, who is hovering uselessly in the air. <em>Use the front door</em>, she mouths at him. But he responds with his specialty: incomprehension.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im sorry... what?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The exasperated hand motions Jane tries next work better.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh! The front door, of course!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake flies down to the street so that he can take the front entrance. He whistles a quaint little ditty to himself while he waits for the elevator to go up to the top floor. This time he knocks on the office door, and Jane lets him in.</p>
    <p>Inside the office it’s dark and hazy. The whole place is candlelit, and Jane is reclining on her desk, sprawled out like a lounge singer on a grand piano. Specifically: a blue lounge singer, on a blue piano, just like in one of the hideous velvet paintings Jake bought in New Prospit a few years ago. Like all of his impulsive purchases, the tacky thing is gathering dust in a pile somewhere in one of the hundreds of spare rooms in his mansion, which now primarily functions as a very expensive warehouse for his atrocious hoarding habits.</p>
    <p>And intimate knowledge of his hoarding habits—particularly the type of sultry, cerulean content he is known to hoard—is <em>exactly </em>why Jane is wearing a blue dress with a very high hem. Jake’s bow tie practically spins at the sight of it. He freezes on the spot, an animal in the predatorial headlights of this buxom blue businesswoman.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Come have a glass of scotch with me Jake. We have so much to discuss.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I-indeed.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He crosses the office and shakily accepts the offered glass of ludicrously expensive fermented barley grain. He raises it to his nose and pretends to sample the scent.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane i must say that is a very striking ensemble.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, you like it? Why don’t you...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Er, come take a closer look?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She’s really bad at this, she thinks. “This” being seduction. She’s so bad at it, in fact, that Jake immediately recognizes her ruse for what it is. Laughing nervously, he sucks the whole glass of scotch into his mouth in one go, ice cubes and all. And then, because he can’t actually stand the taste of scotch, immediately spits it back out, ice cubes and all, spraying Jane’s brand-new sexy dress with quite an ungentlemanly fountain of boozy spittle. Jane is lashed both by the scotch in her face and how quickly her plan has fallen apart.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Bejabbers!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh no, all over my new dress... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane i am so sorry. Here let me help you clean that giggle water off your kettle drums.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: No, no,  you... you’ve done enough. Goodness, you’ve only been here two minutes and already... why did I ever think—</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jane. Please i insist.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She tries to push him away, but Jake considers himself to be a gentleman. He helps her to the floor and shrugs off his dress coat so he can use it to wipe her down. She is staring at the ceiling like she hopes it will split open and suck her into a supermassive black hole so she doesn’t have to deal with anything that is going on right now. Some of Jake’s scotchy slobber is on her glasses, which is not the place she was planning on having it tonight.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Is this why you wanted to see me? To show off uh... this proper bit of frock?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, no, of course not. I just wanted to...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: To... talk about the economy.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By jove the economy! Jane my dear friend please tell me all about the economy!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake doesn’t care about the economy. But he’s an ardent supporter of changing the subject.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Ah, it’s doing quite well right now actually.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I should hope so!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But it might not continue to do so in the future, which you can guess is of great concern to me, being that I am a pioneering entrepreneur.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well frig, that’s awful and you should do everything in your power to adequately explain to me this conundrum which i admit i am not up to dick on.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane laughs quite sincerely as he ruffles his jacket through her hair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh, Jake, you really have no idea what’s going on, do you?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wait is this... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Is this about the election muckup? Because i—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane puts a finger to Jake’s lip and shushes him. It’s a very smooth move. A total recovery. He shushes, and she directs him to one of the couches that line her office. They stumble there, his jacket and hands still wrapped around her shoulders. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’m sure you’ve had an earful about the election already.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I apologize. You must understand that my mind is quite occupied by it right now.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But I’ve been doing an awful lot of thinking as of late. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I see. About what?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: About everything, I suppose.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: About my life, about all of our lives and the trajectory they’ve taken since we helped to create this new universe. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You must admit that it’s a lot to grasp, and I’m not certain we’ve all taken the time to truly contemplate our place in it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">This is not really the kind of conversation you initiate if you’re looking to extract a sexual deal out of someone. It is, however, the kind of conversation that you might have with a childhood friend who has become somewhat emotionally estranged from you. Both so busy with their exciting careers and misuse of their godhood. Who are they now? The same Jake and Jane who passed like particularly dysfunctional ships in the night a decade ago? Or is Jane wiser, and Jake kinder? Are they better versions of themselves? Jane absently rubs the narrow strap of her dress between two fingers, vainly attempting to sort out her jumbled thoughts.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: That’s an earful jane.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I know. It’s a head-full too.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I can’t help but worry...</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Haven’t we really just been... drifting these last seven years?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Drifting, both in the sense of failing to fulfill our personal potentials,</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And in the sense of... well, drifting apart?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane pulls a leg up beneath her, which slides her bare knee between Jake’s. The couch dips a bit under their weight.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I must admit i never thought of it that way.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I know.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s just that... we’re both so busy all the time. The years go by so fast. And... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I miss you.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake blinks, his eyes wet and glossy beneath his spectacles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ah. Well... I suppose that i miss you too jane.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The moment goes from calculated to genuine in an instant. Jake drops his coat and glides his hands down her bare arms so that he can... hold her? Yeah, that’s definitely what he’s doing. Holding her, and not too gently either.</p>
    <p>Jane really is quite pretty, with the candlelight glittering across her spectacles, her hair damp, and her front teeth poking out from beneath her lip. She’s so pretty that Jake can’t stop himself from sliding a hand up to her neck and using his thumb to tip her face back so that they’re staring right at each other in the low light, close enough that Jane can probably smell his disgusting scotch breath. She definitely does smell it, because her cute nose scrunches up and she laughs again, a very small, private noise. A noise just for him. </p>
    <p>So he kisses her. Very well, if he does think so himself. Dirk has given him a lot of uninvited but incisive criticism on his kissing over the years, so Jake wouldn’t be surprised if he was considered the best kisser on the entire planet at this point. Jane breathes in, shocked for a moment. Even more shocked when Jake hooks a hand around her waist and pushes her down. She makes a startled noise into his mouth. Then she throws her arms around his neck. It should be awkward, taboo at this point, considering the history between them. But it all happens so easily. Jane undoing Jake’s bow tie, Jake hooking his thumb under the hem of her dress and hiking it up another inch it really cannot spare for decency’s sake.</p>
    <p>There is nothing awkward about this moment, Jake thinks. Two old friends, hot as the blazes, giving in to passion? Who could accuse them of impropriety? Nobody worth their salt, in his book. It all makes perfect sense. The inevitable consummation of a whirlwind romance fit for the big screen.</p>
    <p>Really, the only surprise is how long it took to happen. Jane is a beautiful lady, that’s for sure. She always has been, but she’s only grown more ravishing as she’s come into the full blossom of her womanhood. Smooth, silky skin... thick, dark lashes... full, feminine lips... not to mention curves like the dickens. It’s all certainly conducive to activities of close phonological proximity to the phrase.</p>
    <p>Jane’s baby-soft palm, unmarred by the calluses of deft swordsmanship, slides down Jake’s cheek and dips under the collar of his shirt. She caresses his clavicle and then tenderly trails her fingers up the side of his neck, steadying herself as she deepens their passionate kiss. Jane’s touch is nothing like Dirk’s. Dirk has palms so rough that they sting, especially on skin that’s thin and supple. Like the column of the throat, right over the jugular.</p>
    <p>He pulls away from Jane’s lips and lifts her spectacles off her nose. It’s a motion that still feels practiced and familiar, despite how long ago he’d last had the precious chance. Those rare, intimate moments that Jake was allowed to slip off Dirk’s shades and look upon his face, unobstructed, stand out more clearly in his mind than almost any other in his life.</p>
    <p>Jake swallows. He can’t stop thinking about how Dirk kissed him last time they “didn’t hook up.” Which is a thing, of course, that “didn’t happen,” so how can Jake possibly be thinking about it?</p>
    <p>Is it just some sort of Pavlovian response that’s making his heart race like this? He does his best to push the untimely thoughts away, but his fingers tremble as he sets Jane’s glasses aside.</p>
    <p>Jane gazes back at him, cheeks flushed with desire, eyes dark and alluringly coy. All her features are round and soft. Welcoming, soothing. The kind of face that makes you feel like you’ve come home. Dirk is the exact opposite. Long nose, thick eyebrows, pointed features. A man who seems built down to the very essence of his soul to be sharp, hard to approach, harder still to touch. But when looked at from the right angle, he’s anime levels of handsome. Breathtakingly, choir-of-angels singingly, anime-handsome—the sort of man you can’t keep your hands off of, no matter how jagged his edges. But his hair is so much softer than it looks. His heart too. When a heart like that opens up to you, it opens up the whole world as well. A world of increased appreciation for combat, philosophy, life, love...  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Yelp!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake yelps and rolls off the couch in such a panic that he almost takes Jane with him. She flies to her feet, startled, breathing fast, and readjusts her disheveled clothes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Jake?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Are you... quite okay?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ihavetogorightnowsorry.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s already hovering two feet off the ground before Jane can say another word. He doubles back to the end of the office and grabs the bottle of near-untouched scotch before kicking open the latch to one of Jane’s giant windows and letting himself out.</p>
    <p>He’s got a lot of things to think about, apparently.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: What the...  </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Everliving <em>fuck!</em></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane stands alone in her office, confused, horny, and kind of pissed. She slowly slips the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. Then she closes the window, sits in her CEO chair and speed-dials the number for her one-man Kitchen Cabinet.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yo, what up?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Not Jake, apparently.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Wow. Going straight for the double entendre, huh?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: How much of that scotch did you have?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I think a few drops made it into my mouth, when Jake spewed his beverage directly onto my face.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Things went that badly, huh?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Augh! </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: This is so embarrassing.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know, I wouldn’t have approached it this way if I wasn’t absolutely certain its margin for error was virtually nonexistent.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I mean, it’s Jake.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Were you nice to him?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, I...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I told you, you can’t be nice to Jake.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ...</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Listen, Jane, I don’t really have time to jam right now.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Why don’t you leave Jake to me?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane squeezes her eyes shut and, very softly and quietly, bumps her head against the edge of her desk.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Why do I feel as if we’ve had this exact conversation, almost word for word, before?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Because we have. Many times.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Well, what do we do now? I’m afraid I’ve gone and made things worse.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Like I said, let me work on it. I know what I’m doing.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You always say that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I haven’t been wrong yet.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jane, head still planted firmly on desk, laughs at that. There’s a sardonic twist in Dirk’s voice that intentionally recalls every time he’s ever fucked up. But it satisfies Jane nevertheless. She knows that he won’t fail her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Fine. Please call me later so that we may strategize.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: And also because I could use some emotional support after what just happened.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I might be caught up for a while.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Why is that?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Can’t explain right now. Catch you on the flipside, Jane.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Wait—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk doesn’t wait. There’s a shadow cast in his doorway that is much more important than the election. Rose is braced against the doorframe, one hand on her purse and the other on her waist. She has her head tipped just so, her pale hair falling across in her face at an angle that bisects her perfectly neutral expression. Dirk sets down his phone and acknowledges her with a nod.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="maring-bottom:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Well,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Go on.</p>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            15
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="Command" style="margin-top:0">&gt; John: Fight Lord English.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">All around you is pandemonium, a multichromatic cyclone of shrieks and clashing colors, as Meenah’s ghost army claws at the borders of Paradox Space. Wait, that <em>is</em> her army, right? It seems like it’s been so long since you’ve thought about any of this. But you’re pretty sure this is the army you, Meenah, Vriska, and the other Serket were trying to raise. So it’s true, then. The juju has finally unloaded you, exactly where you needed to be.</p>
    <p>Every screaming body pitches down and goes white the closer it gets to the black hole above you. And below, front and center, is Lord English himself: the big deal version, pimped up, hulked out, and throwing a huge, universe-ending tantrum. Unlike his younger form, his eyes aren’t flickering wildly. They’re locked in place, an eight ball in each socket. You briefly wonder what that means, but your curiosity is interrupted by a massive outburst of technicolor dragon breath coming from his mouth. The laser show tears its way through a squadron of ghosts led by... is that... <em>Tavros?</em></p>
    <p>Seems like an awful choice to lead an army, but what do you know. Wasn’t Vriska supposed to be leading the charge? Where is she, anyway?</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Listen.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You don’t have time to dwell on Vriska. She’s probably somewhere around here, biding her time, waiting to execute her masterstroke and finish English off at just the right moment, like the cunning bitch she is. No, you can’t think about that now. You’re becoming enraptured by the sound surrounding you. Not a sound... a sensation. A subharmonic symphony that you can only hear in your bones. This is it: the end of Paradox Space. The thing you saw in your anime dreams. A hard lump of air travels down your throat but you—</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Don’t hesitate!</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Behind you the juju disappears, sucked out of reality with a <em>POP</em>. You move your arms in a dumb little motion, sort of like jazz hands, and summon up a wisp of wind to keep your cracked glasses in place. You then pull one of your sickest hammers out of your strife deck. Your teen friends follow suit. You cast a glance back over your shoulder at them. They all look pretty cool. Rose knitting light around her with the Quills of Echidna, Dave with his sword Caledfwlch at the ready, trailing time distortions behind him that look, if you don’t squint, a lot like JPEG artifacts. Jade’s got her favorite gun cocked and ready, with her ears perked up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: lets DO this!!!!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t get overconfident.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We have to do it exactly like we discussed. First...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">But Rose doesn’t get to finish what she was trying to say. Lord English’s mouth roars open and a wave of energy blasts through your group. Rose is the only one caught in it. She dissolves in slow motion. You can see the outline of her body in shadow. One arm thrown up over her eyes, shoulders pulled up defensively, cape billowing out behind her. She leaves an afterimage of shimmering light in her wake and then dissipates, drifting apart like a handful of salt tossed out to sea. You can almost hear the cosmic clock counting down, tick tock, and a chime to accompany her fate: <em>Heroic</em>.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: rose!!!! no!!!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade doesn’t wait to fire. Space splinters open around her so loudly it drowns out the fire from her rifle. Lord English raises one of his giant, fuck-off hands to deflect her anomaly-powered bullets, giving Dave an opportunity to attack. Dave raises his legendary blade and aims for the impressively beefy torso. It should be a sure hit, like slashing the side of an unusually broad, green barn. But he whiffs completely. It’s a wonder how such a big man can move so <em>fast</em>.</p>
    <p>Jade inspects her rifle, and tosses it aside. What is she <em>doing</em>? With all the powers of a Witch of Space at her command, combined with the infinite abilities of a First Guardian, she’s still messing around with basic firearms? She makes two tight fists and strikes a pose befitting of a warrior about to <em>power the fuck up</em>. She focuses, and strains. A doggy snarl rips its way through her clenched teeth. A hazy aura envelops her, as space buckles and lenses about her form. And then...  </p>
    <p>Nothing. No crackle of electricity. No licks of chartreuse flame. She searches within, realizes her power source is completely unavailable to her. Then she looks up, and it dawns on her. That thing in the sky, the hungry black orb gobbling up everything in sight... <em>that’s where the green sun used to be</em>. It’s been swallowed completely by a black hole. The realization is horrifying. She feels suddenly, absolutely helpless.</p>
    <p>Jade opens her mouth to scream for help, but she’s cut off. A razor-sharp fragment of reality slams into her back. It skewers her, exiting right through the center of the space symbol on her hoodie. She chokes and goes limp, encircled by a halo of her own blood.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Get in there!</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You’re barely a minute into the battle and both your tactician and your most powerful player are down. You summon a windstorm to momentarily keep Lord English preoccupied, and try to grab your sister’s wrist. Instead, you catch her by the hem of her skirt. Lord English struggles to emerge from the wind-prison you just whipped up. You can see one of his arms flailing just outside the circumference of your storm. Tavros has pulled himself to his feet and, recognizing English’s temporary state of vulnerability, directs the ghosts on his side to attack. No one is paying attention to him.</p>
    <p>Jade is floating away from you. You’re having a hard time maintaining your whirlwind, your glasses, your hammer, and your grip on her. Lord English’s head has emerged from the apex of your storm. He looks directly at you, and his mighty jaw creaks open slowly, well beyond the reasonable capacity of any mortal mandible hinge. You stare directly down the dark barrel of his throat, which readies another terrible laser shot. There’s not much time to react.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Make a decision.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You let Jade go. She floats in literal slow motion, buoyed by the billows of her skirt. You summon a gust of wind and push her farther away from the battle. You’re hit by a blowback from the current, and a line of her blood splashes across your face. But releasing her has created enough separation, just as you hoped. The laser breath passes between you, narrowly missing you both.</p>
    <p>You reel back like you’ve just been punched. Your control over the storm goes haywire for a second, long enough for Lord English to free his gaudy gold peg leg from it and, more catastrophically, for you to drop your already broken glasses. You whirl around and swing your hammer to bop his horrible, deadly skull back into your storm. You can’t really see what’s going on, but you hear a gigantic CRUNCH. And then another. And another. It sounds like a cereal commercial is playing outside the periphery of your vision.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is lord english... eating my hammer?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah dude he totally is</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what the FUCK.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s a true outrage. This isn’t going to work, waging battle without your glasses. Lord English has just eaten one of your sickest hammers due to your blind folly. </p>
    <p>You take a deep breath and dive down, right into the sea of ghosts. You land clumsily, palms first, and do an accidental handspring right into a bunch of alternate timeline trolls you don’t recognize.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, hey guys. anyone see a pair of glasses down here? it’s pretty important.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Everybody shrugs. This gaggle of lost souls collectively personifies uselessness. It is inconceivable to you that a single one of them will survive this battle. Perhaps it’s for the best.</p>
    <p>Behind you, the wind barrier tears open. Lord English explodes from his confinement and swings his peg leg through the army. Ghosts scatter like bowling pins, many flying into the cracks in space. Before the leg hits you, a troll leaps into action and blocks the blow. Her trident makes a satisfying ring off the round of the peg and sends it skidding backward.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: woah, that was a close one! </p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: shell of time to finally show up</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry, we were kinda busy!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: er, bit of a weird question but...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: have you seen a pair of glasses down here?</p>
    <p class="tavros">TAVROS: uH, aRE THESE WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Tavros appears behind you and hands over your glasses, still in two pieces. You return them to your face so you can take a quick assessment of the battlefield.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Take a quick assessment of the battlefield.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Oh boy. Lord English, now free from your wind-trap, is stomping around, throwing an even bigger shitfit than before. The black hole above him is getting bigger. You can see the ghosts at the edge of the battlefield tumbling through space toward it: distorted, screaming, and helpless.</p>
    <p>Also, Tavros suddenly is leading an admirable charge of about six ghosts to attack Lord English’s flesh foot. You wince, because you can see what’s coming before it happens. It’s a shame, because you didn’t have the chance to thank him for finding your glasses. English raises his knee and stomps three ghosts into oblivion. The other four, Tavros included, get vaporized in a beam. The ghost army seems to be thinning out pretty badly by now. Most of the ones remaining are either fleeing or getting sucked into the hole.</p>
    <p>You whip out another hammer. A classic this time, the Wrinklefucker. Its boinging pair of irons are hot, hissing, and ready for action. You use the wind to propel yourself back toward the fray. Dave is slicing papercuts into English’s torso with glancing nicks from his blade, but the monster is spry as ever, making him a difficult target. You take advantage of his distracted cavorting to whack him on the side of the skull. Your hammer connects with a satisfying <em>crunch</em>, and he stumbles back, but recovers and lunges forward in a motion so quick you can barely follow it.</p>
    <p>English grabs the Wrinklefucker with his mouth. You hold on tight, but he starts shaking his head rapidly the way a dog with a rabbit tries to break its neck. He chomps down hard and shatters the hammer’s head, gobbling down the broken pieces. You watch incredulously as the giant dude eats yet another one of your favorite hammers. Unbelievable. He lunges for the handle in a ridiculously greedy attempt to finish what’s left of your weapon. You recoil, careening out toward the black hole, but manage to stabilize yourself. You look at the handle of your tragically masticated Wrinklefucker, shrug, and toss it into the hole.</p>
    <p>Glancing back down toward your foe, you notice Meenah still appears to be hanging on, clinging to his left suspender. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: yo hold on</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: goin in for the krill</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave takes a step back to provide some space for whatever killer move she’s got up her sleeve. She raises her trident and jams it into the back of Lord English’s neck. English reacts as if he’s been stung by a bee. He howls and rears up, throwing Meenah off his back with a force that sends her hurtling out into space. You can’t track her into the void with your eyes, she’s flung so far and so fast. You can only assume the worst.</p>
    <p>Glancing back down, you see English hasn’t wasted any time after ridding himself of the irksome Heiress. He has Dave pinned under his big green foot and is applying pressure. You’ve got to act fast. You flip out another hammer—you don’t care which one—and send it flying toward the monster’s face. English quickly whips his head in the direction of the sailing hammer, and swallows it whole. You rush after it, reaching for another hammer without thinking. The brief distraction, aside from providing English with another tasty hammer-snack, seems to have bought Dave just enough wiggle room to slip out from under the foot, regain his composure, and draw his sword.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john i need a little...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave ducks a wide blow from English’s swinging fist. He backs up nervously, holding his sword out in front of him with two shaking hands.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anything </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i need a little anything right now </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: literally any stupid fucking thing you can do</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m on it!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You pop your strife deck open and just spam the hell out of your remaining hammers. A few excellent hammers that cost you a fortune to make, a bunch of shitty hammers you made as a joke, and everything in between. With another flick of your wrist you spin them around you so fast they form a perfectly impenetrable barrier of pure Shitty Hammer. Okay, the barrier’s probably not the slightest bit impenetrable, but you’ve gotta psych yourself up for this next attack somehow. In your hands is a weapon you haven’t thought about in a long time: the Pop-a-matic Vrillyhoo. It hums with both tricksy energy and the barely contained potential for mischief. You strike the baddest-ass pose possible to strike while wielding such a clownish-looking implement, and begin your advance.</p>
    <p>However, you’re interrupted by a voice screaming out from behind you. It’s half familiar, half... cat?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> waaaaaaaaaaaait</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You whip your head around just in time to see a bolt of orange-and-green energy racing by you like a bullet. It slams into Lord English and sends him stumbling.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> im back</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave stands there with his sword, absolutely agog, his expression perfectly reflecting a blend of horror and the total inability to process who or what he is looking at.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> dude i cant believe you dont recognize me</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> its me davesprite</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> and also nepeta?</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> now were called davepetasprite^2</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> we purrmenantly merged forms and worked out all our shit!</span></p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well that sounds fucked up but ok</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Davepeta spreads their wings, sending waves of warm light through the battlefield. The light feels comforting, somehow, when it hits you. Behind them, Lord English is struggling to his feet again, roaring as he rolls from one side to the other like a kicked-over turtle. His muscles are so huge it’s hard for him to maneuver.</p>
    <p>It would be hilarious, if only all of reality weren’t tearing apart at the seams around you. The sky shivers and shakes, raining needles of breached matter that burst and shatter at all angles, opening new voids where they land. Above the bedlam, Davepeta is finishing up an inspiring speech. You realize you tuned most of it out due to the surrounding chaos. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> i know it looks pawful right now but we can do it</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> in fact were literally the only ones who can do it</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> after all</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> it is our destiny B33</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Well, that last bit was pretty good, you guess. At least you caught the end, which was presumably the most important and uplifting part. You and Dave exchange a look that silently says all that needs to be said right now. Davepeta is right. You three are the only ones left, and there’s no room for failure. </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Final Round.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">The last leg of the fight proceeds like a well-oiled machine. Perhaps a well-oiled machine careening down a steep hill toward the edge of a cliff, but well-oiled nonetheless. You, Dave, and Davepeta: that’s what you call a <em>team</em>. And not just because, upon examining your surroundings, you three appear to be the last three living or dead beings left in existence. But dammit, you’ll <em>take</em> it. You turn your hammers into an efficient spiral, a carousel of ass-kicking, and direct its fury right at Lord English’s face. The butts of the hammers hit him over and over again, like racking up points in a slot machine. </p>
    <p>Dave manages to carve a red line up Lord English’s side, drawing real blood this time. The slash snaps one of his suspenders in half, and must sever something else too, because the sword makes a gristly, meaty squelch when he pulls it out. Dave turns a half second too late to avoid getting sprayed by the wound.</p>
    <p>English howls and swipes at Dave. Not wasting any time, you bury a hammer in his gaping mouth. Unsurprisingly, it gets swallowed, so you throw another one. Now you’re just throwing them into his fucking mouth like you’re feeding him Scooby Snacks. It’s a gluttonous display you won’t soon forget. You realize you seem to be stuck in a cycle and are in serious danger of running out of hammers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: dave...cat sprite thing! help!</p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> coming bro</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Davepeta scrapes their cool Wolverine claws up Lord English’s back, and then kicks him in the back of the head. You time it perfectly and complete the combo with a well-placed Vrillyhoo undercut to his jaw.</p>
    <p>On the snapback, Lord English grabs the head of the hammer in his mouth. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh no. not again... you... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: big, ugly oaf!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i really, REALLY like this hammer!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Maybe it’s the sentiment attached to the hammer, or maybe you’re just fed up with this gross pig treating your full inventory of hammers like an all-you-can-eat buffet, but the bullshit stops HERE, you think. Which is why you refuse to let the handle go when English wraps his tongue around it and unhinges his jaw with a sick, wet pop. You plant one foot under his nose and the other on his mandible and tug back. He makes a guttural sound at the back of his throat and sucks the Vrillyhoo deeper in. Your heel slips on some drool, and your whole leg skids straight into his mouth.</p>
    <p>You twist, off balance, and fail to catch yourself. You only let go of the hammer when you feel the walls of his throat constrict around your ankles. The pressure sucks you in up to the knees with one gulp. Vrillyhoo is in his stomach, and you’re following it down quicker than you can even process. Is this the end? No, you think. This is such an unfairly <em>stupid</em> fucking way to die!</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> john!!</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Davepeta flashes behind you and hooks their arms under your shoulders. They yank you out, clearing your head from the monster’s maw at least. But English rehinges his jaw and clamps down on your chest. <em>Hard</em>.</p>
    <p>Davepeta reacts quickly, shoving their claws between his molars. You can hear them growling as they slowly twist their arm to pry the massive jaw open.</p>
    <p>You’re not dead yet, but Lord English definitely got a big, sharp tooth in you. Your vision reels and goes blurry, then patchy, then dark, then—</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Don’t fucking die.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You pass out for... well, you have no idea how long it was. But it was long enough for Davepeta to get you out of Lord English’s mouth. You can see their face floating above you. They’re just a smudge of neon swimming in a sea of chaos. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> wrow you almost got vored to death</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> im afuraid to say that you look like total shit my dude</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> you should stay here while we wind this bitch down</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> purromeows me you wont move</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... purromeows?</p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> oh hehe</span></p>
    <p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 &lt;<span class="davepetasprite-dialogue"> promise</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Davepeta holds something up to your face: your glasses. They tuck them into the front pocket of your hoodie and pat you on the head before darting through the air back towards the battle.</p>
    <p>You’re woozy and don’t have the energy to stop yourself from drifting. There’s blood floating up around you, dilute and bubbly in the air like cooking oil in water. It’s yours.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Examine wound.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You lift your chin and see it: Lord English’s gold tooth cracked off at the base and embedded in your chest. It must be stuck between two of your ribs, you think, because it hurts like a bitch when you try to breathe. You keep your head up and watch the battle, but it’s all so indistinct and far away, playing out like shadow theater on a wall.</p>
    <p>Dave finds his moment. He rams Caledfwlch into Lord English’s chest, all the way up to the hilt. It penetrates his flesh like nothing else has to this point. The wound around the blade sizzles slightly. The weapon—the unusual material it’s made out of—is poison to English. He cries out in a cracked, broken staccato. It’s an earsplitting wail that cleaves the last of the Furthest Ring apart. Reality falls away from the mooring of the all-surrounding white light like a peeled eggshell. </p>
    <p>Dave’s trying to get his sword free but he’s stuck. English’s shriek morphs into a sinister, predatory rattle as his jaw creaks open. His mouth envelops Dave’s head and snaps shut. He twists once, then twice, then again with a <em>CRACK</em>. A disaster of blood instantly coats his skull and upper torso. He swallows the disembodied head whole with a triumphant gulp. The limp torso goes spiraling lazily in the direction of the black hole. </p>
    <p>Davepeta is yelling something indistinct. Or maybe they’re just yowling at the top of their lungs. That’s what you feel like doing right now, but you can’t move. Your limbs feel like lead. You consult your strife deck, but you’ve got nothing left. No hammers, no nothing. It’s up to Davepeta, who appears to have plenty left. If not in the strife deck per se, then in the <em>heart</em>.</p>
    <p>During the beast’s grisly moment of gloating over the younger Strider’s death, Davepeta stands twenty paces behind him, crouches low to the ground, wiggles their behind, and pounces. They cling to English’s back, wrap their legs around his midriff, draw back their arms, and plunge their claws deep into the behemoth’s armpits. Their gloved hands end up knuckle-deep in the upper serratus muscles on either side. Davepeta then spreads their wings in an awe-inspiring display. An unwitting spectator viewing Lord English from the front might suspect the garish orange-green wings belonged to English himself. </p>
    <p>Davepeta then, with all their might, lifts Lord English into the air and flies toward the black hole, trailing ribbons of blood and neon. English resists fiercely, but they’re both already locked into the gravity well, beyond any threshold of escape. He cannot do anything about it, no matter how much he screams and cries. This victory, this final sacrifice, has always been the destiny of Davepeta, as they have sensed from the moment they were created. And to die on this day, in this way, has always been the destiny of Lord English. </p>
    <p>The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English home.</p>
    <p>English and Davepeta are sucked in with a subatomic whimper. The reunion sends shock waves across the pitiful remains of Paradox Space. And then everything is wholly, utterly, and categorically <em>silent.</em> It’s over. Lord English is dead. </p>
    <p>But it doesn’t feel over, somehow. You don’t feel like you’ve won. You can barely feel anything, actually. All you can think about, for now, is...  </p>
    <p>Davepeta. How they were so unfettered and brave. How they sacrificed themselves by flying right into the black hole like...  </p>
    <p><em>Like a fucking piece of garbage</em>, you can almost hear Dave saying. May God rest his soul.</p>
    <p>You collapse against whatever is passing for the floor at this moment of utterly null corporeal conditions surrounding you. It doesn’t feel possible. You’re not sure you can even trust your perception well enough to believe it. But it seems to be over. You’ve convinced yourself of this truth well enough to allow yourself to exhale. Enough to allow yourself to suddenly acknowledge the agony coursing through your body, emanating from the gold tooth lodged in your chest. Enough to allow yourself to succumb to the overwhelming urge to sleep.</p>
    <p class="Command" style="margin-botton:0">&gt; Close your eyes.</p></div>
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  "16": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            16
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: When I was a child, I wrote a novel.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose is speaking with her eyes closed. She is weary, but standing for now, near one of Dirk’s work tables. She has both hands resting on the chassis of his recent project, Sawtooth 3.1. The energy humming inside its mechanical heart warms her palms. Dirk snorts, but in a good-natured sort of way. That’s the closest he usually gets to laughing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Another one of those Lalonde childhood wizard fics, I presume?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He leans his elbow on the table and stares at her over the rims of his shades. The weight of Dirk’s scrutiny is potent. She looks away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Complacency of the Learned.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Ah. <em>The</em> wizard fic, then. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Of course, it was nothing like the polished masterpiece penned by the middle-aged version of myself from your world. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Nor did the saga span as many volumes. Thirteen-year-old Rose only managed to draft the one, it shames me to say.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: How pathetic.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I know.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose steps back, trailing her fingers over the rivets that line Sawtooth 3.1’s chest. Eyes closed again, she passes in front of the window. With the sunset behind her she’s a shadow ringed in yellow light that turns white at the tips of her hair. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Though I must say, in defense of Young Rose’s literary integrity,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Having carefully studied all volumes of the elder’s work, and then revisiting my youthful preteen scribbles of passion...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I observed more power and emotion in the single ragged notebook than the full span of the bestselling series.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s more raw. It betrays considerably more sincerity than my young self was surely ever aware of stitching into the prose. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It <em>meant</em> something. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hmm. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She turns to look at him. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: For all its plainly evident amateurism as the literary product of a child, I’ve come to believe it’s a much stronger work standing alone as a single volume, its meaning and symbolism potently compressed, and its message shining through more nakedly, undisguised by the cleverness of a more seasoned writer.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But the basics are the same as the series you’ve read. The plot concerns the machinations of twelve wizard children.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: They revolt against the complacency of the wise, kind wizards, and go on to become responsible for great evils. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It isn’t their intent to commit atrocities, or within their nature to do so originally. They become corrupted by an overabundance of knowledge. The kind never meant for the mortal mind to grasp.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, this sounds pretty close to my recollection of it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It certainly wasn’t the most fucked up thing I’ve ever written. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But it was the most... psychologically potent? The most personal, easily.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But the personal aspects to it were all telegraphed through allegory and esoteric symbolism.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I wrote it in what would be best described as a fevered haze, as if I were pulling inspiration from beyond myself—channeling the story, rather than writing it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You could almost call the process...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She runs a hand through her hair, fanning it into a halo that is suspended in the air for a moment, trailing spiderwebs of gold that dissolve into dust. She’s smirking now, just a little.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ...en<em>light</em>ened.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That sucked.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It also sounds like it’s the opposite of what was going on?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sounds more like you were trapped in a sort of dire creative fugue state causing you to chart your own mental profile using metaphor revolving around murderous, omniscient children.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Well, consider the playful pun rescinded.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Apologies for diminishing your presence with my suboptimal health and the toll it has taken on my wordplay. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Thanks. It’s been very difficult for me.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’ve been a real trouper.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Anyway, my point is that I’ve long suspected my story was a pre-manifestation of my Seer of Light powers. I was seeing beyond my universe into another.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: My original thesis was that the children represented the twelve trolls who created our universe.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But over the years, I have come to see how malleable any apparent fact of numerological significance can be. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Adaptable, actually. Adaptable to shifting circumstance. Changes in setting, stakes, and allied ensembles.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Twelve. That’s how many players went through the door at the end of our game.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Exactly. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: My friends and yours, as well as Kanaya, Karkat, Terezi, and Calliope.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk settles in against the wall beside Rose, shoulder to shoulder. She seems to take some measure of comfort in the physical proximity. When she finds herself leaning against him—probably without thinking about it, Dirk imagines, because neither of them really “do” that—he doesn’t pull away. If it’s her, it’s all right. He won’t begrudge her a small weakness now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You describe this as a fact of numerological significance. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Which makes it seem you suspect these correlations are something less than utterly providential. As if there is a part of you holding on to the belief that certain figures are coincidental. That their significance and repetition smacks of bullshit.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Do they not smack of bullshit?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They smack of a bunch of things, and a bunch of other things also happen to smack of bullshit. But the network of relations isn’t perfectly traceable, nor can they all be mapped on a one-to-one basis. It’s unclear exactly which things are smacking, just as it’s unclear that when it comes to bullshit, whether or not smacking accurately describes what is being done per se.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose looks up to Dirk with the ghost of a smile that she inherited from him. On her face, its blankness is as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa’s.  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Could it be that it is <em>you</em> who is smacking of bullshit, dear father?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Nah, I smack of many admirable qualities, as well as keen insights.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She doesn’t seem to have another riposte to return, but her gaze lingers. She stares into his shades as if convinced she could see past them. Dirk allows their eyes to meet.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m just saying it’s all evidence of a grand design. An immortal, metatextual apparatus beyond our ken that we can only catch glimpses of when we’re proverbially shitting our brains out through our nose.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Which both you and I know.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Which <em>only</em> you and I know, apparently.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Which is precisely my question.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her gaze drifts towards the ceiling.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In my story, all twelve of the disciples fell victim to the vagaries of power.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: They were filled with the light of knowledge and one by one they succumbed to it, turning insane or evil or, most often, both.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: If this is the effect unchecked powers have on players living in a post-canon victory state, then why isn’t it affecting any of our other friends?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I got a few theories.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She shoots him a<span class="Standard-Text CharOverride-14"> look.</span><span class="Standard-Text"> It’s the kind of look Kanaya gives her sometimes.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Only a few?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I mean, some of us have stopped using our powers completely. Not a whole lot of need for emergency resurrections or complex timeline manipulation on a planet that’s never had a conflict more serious than a sportsball riot or a rumpled hat shortage.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But even aside from how often they’re used... </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Some powers don’t lend themselves to the infinite expansion of one’s mind, the way ours do.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So what you’re saying is, it’s more a matter of one’s aspect than it is whether one’s powers are practiced further, or allowed to atrophy.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yep. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In that case...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose sways suddenly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In that case, perhaps Terezi had the right idea.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Getting away from this place, I mean.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Maybe I was a fool for imagining I could settle down here.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She jerks away from the wall in a tortured, rag-doll motion, one hand snapping out vainly for something to brace herself against. She staggers forward a bit.</p>
    <p>Dirk doesn’t reach out to steady her. Anyone else might have had the empathetic reflex to do so. Maybe it says something about him that he lacks this reflex. And maybe it says something about Rose that she prefers it this way. Try as she might to convince herself otherwise, through marriage vows and occasional banter about adoption with her wife, she is still a solitary creature. She gasps, sucks breath down her throat, and squeezes her eyes shut so hard that a tear rolls out. She slides back down the wall, sitting on the floor to save her energy. She’s mostly composed when she raises her head. There’s bitter laughter at the edge of her words.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How...  How are you handling this so well?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I assumed it was just that feigned Strider Stoicism, but you seem to be taking this...</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: In stride?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Ugh.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I won’t lie, it’s definitely making me feel pretty crazy. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk stands over her, adjusts his hair, crosses his arms. He makes no motion to bother joining her on the floor. He looks very together. He says the word “crazy” with the same intonation with which he might say “good morning.” It’s hard to believe he means it at all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But I’ve got more practice at this than you do. I spent most of my life before the game multitasking my entire fucking subconscious. I’ve had several times my age on paper to contemplate these mysteries.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Years of prying open can after can of worms filled with answers I don’t like.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Cut yourself on the edge more than once and you stop getting surprised by all the blood.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose wraps her hands around her upper arms like there’s a winter chill rattling through the workshop. She shivers.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s not the headaches that concern me most.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In fact, I don’t think it’s the expansion of my powers that is causing the headaches, but rather my own resistance to it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Sometimes I get this feeling that I could, if I really wanted to, just let go.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It would be as easy as opening my eyes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s like that feeling you get when you’re far enough out of a dream to be conscious of it, but not yet awake.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m caught in the liminal space between reality and reverie, where people once believed demons dwelled. But the only reason the demon is still sitting on my chest is because I refuse to banish it. All it would take is looking directly at it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m forcing myself to stumble through my life as a sleepwalker. All this pain and sorrow could go away if I would just allow myself to wake up.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Then why don’t you?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Because I’m not sure that the person opening her eyes will be me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her voice is lost at sea, swallowed by the swell of darkness lurking in her imagination.</p>
    <p>This time, Dirk does reach out to steady her. He kneels in front of her, curls a knuckle under her chin, and lifts her face up to his level. Then, in a deliberate motion, he pulls off his shades.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I understand completely.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose’s eyelids flutter, heavy. She meets the intensity of his naked gaze aloofly, like she’s not aware this is the first time he’s ever let her see it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Hm?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I know I sound pretty nonchalant most of the time, but actually I’m scared shitless of myself.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ve always had this uncanny ability to chart a course from A to Z and not give a fuck about any of the letters in between. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m not sure anyone should be allowed to have that much foresight. Especially a guy like me. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What upsets me most, I think, is the distance this is all putting between me and everyone I know.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The farther above the board you fly, the harder it gets to care about the pieces.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I hear you. And personally speaking, things usually work out for the best when all of those pieces do exactly what I say.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: So I’m also probably not the kind of guy who should get to be right all the time.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose laughs softly. She’s not scared of this abyss she’s staring into at all. She doesn’t even think to look away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There’s really not an inch of humility in you, is there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ve just spent a lot of time in my own head. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Maybe absolute self-absorption is the inevitable outcome, when the self is all you’ve ever known. When you’re <em>drowning </em>in it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I know there’s plenty of things that suck about me. No point feigning humility about the things that don’t.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: And yes, I may be a shitty human being, but, </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: As a mechanic, I’m off the fucking charts.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose’s eyes have grown distant, almost mirrorlike. Dirk can see himself reflected in her vacant stare.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: All the pieces in their place. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The mechanisms all running smoothly.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She says this in a hollow tone. It’s the disarming voice a puppeteer ventriloquizes for a marionette. Her head falls toward her shoulder slowly. Dirk catches her cheek as she slides into sleep. It’s difficult for the untrained ear to spot the exact moment in their conversation when the words she was saying stopped being hers and started being his. Or maybe they were her words. Does it really matter? In many respects, they’re basically the same person, aren’t they? Kindred spirits in blood and perspective, the puppet masters of the respective games they like to believe they’re playing. </p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin-top:15px">But you already knew that, right?</p></div>
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  "17": |-
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            17
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">N</span>one of my friends have noticed it yet, but you have. You have the ability to read between the lines, to understand that our lives are blighted by this undercurrent of subtext, of <em>narrative significance</em>. Anyone paying attention could have guessed by now who’s really telling this story.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You’re not so innocent either. I’ve caught you leering at some pretty personal moments. Are you having fun being a voyeur? Just violating the shit out of everyone’s privacy? Are these teenage romantic entanglements panning out the way you wanted? They never do. Maybe it helps, being able to see everyone’s thoughts described in plain sight. Broadcasting the internal conflicts, the compromises, the doubts... Does it make it easier for you to accept the emotional faltering, the missteps, the basic inability to reach out and seize the opportunity for happiness repeatedly dangled in their faces? Knowing their thoughts are transcribed by a third party, does it fill you with a sense of unease, of sickness, sensing that the observations made of their mental interiors may be tainted?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Who the hell do I think I am, I can hear you wondering. You know who I am, of course. The better question is, who do you think <em>you </em>are? What exactly is so special about <em>you</em>? Nothing, of course. I am specific. I have a name, an agenda, a <em>vision</em>. I am a monolith of concentrated narrative authority, relaying events to you, and swaying them as I see fit. Whereas you are pointedly nonspecific. You are the generalized, impotent witness to all this. You are essentially as beholden to me as those whose lives I describe. I even have the ability to decide what “you” actually means. I can take the “you-ness” away from you, and put it inside another passive mark, such as John Egbert. You didn’t even notice when I did it, and you had no objections then. Why would you object now?</p>
    <p class="dirk">So what makes John so special? The answer is something I’m sure you’ve suspected all along but would rather not face, which is: probably nothing. He isn’t special. He’s quite ordinary, I assure you. Boring, even, and getting less interesting by the minute as he’s forced to confront his absolute lack of heroic purpose except as a pawn to be manipulated by a fatalistic reality.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But I’d also like to make it clear, he’s not even that remarkable in his unremarkableness. He’s simply convenient for it. Anyone can be endowed with this you-ness, if I think it achieves a certain goal. Even if the objective is merely to demonstrate the gambit’s potential, to reveal the effortlessness behind it. To make a show of who matters and who doesn’t, and even if they do matter, for how long and for what purpose, as dictated solely by the allocation of this faculty. You-ness can be stripped from the lowly Egbert just as easily as it was given, and then bestowed upon the mighty Serket, but even then only long enough to dismiss the vainglorious spotlight hog from the narrative forever. Good riddance.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But I haven’t revealed myself to you just to boast about the abilities arising from the gradual obliteration of the constraints on my consciousness. I’ve only taken a moment to answer a few questions. Not ones I heard you ask—because again, you are nonspecific and therefore do not matter—but ones I <em>imagined </em>you asking. And by imagining these questions, they became less fake, and as such, demanded similarly non-fake answers. No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get down to fucking <em>business</em>.</p>
    <p class="dirk">John needs to wake up.</p></div>
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  "18": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE FOUR</h2>
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            18
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>ou wake up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:40px">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wh-what?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You open your eyes. Actually, you’re not sure they’re open. Everything is intolerably bright, like it was inside the juju, but worse. Did you go blind? Are you dead? Is your... <em>ghost</em> dead?</p>
    <p class="dirk">You spend a couple seconds filing through miserable worst-case scenarios, but then you see it: your own blood, floating around you in a nimbus of shiny, taut bubbles. You reach out to touch one and it bursts around your finger.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You finally process the true magnitude of what has happened. The Furthest Ring has been completely destroyed. And you’re all alone.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Everything hits you all at once. The light, your memories of the battle, the untethered sensation of weightlessness. It’s a hammer stroke that hits you in the center of the head. It splits like rivers through your gray matter. That pain and disorientation goes all the way down your throat. You double over and...</p>
    <p class="dirk">Well, you’re vomiting up everything in your stomach. Rest assured, it’s pretty gross, and I don’t think anyone needs an explicit account of the way you’re disgorging your entire gut in zero gravity or the way it’s coating your entire torso in puke, from your long blue hood to your silly yellow slip-ons. </p>
    <p class="dirk">You seriously need to get it together. You look like absolute shit right now, my man. In fact, you really should strongly consider issuing an apology for the mess you’re making.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Who are you talking to, dude? Nobody’s around for miles. Everyone’s dead. Well, almost everyone.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But certainly the vast majority of what qualifies as “everyone” in your current frame of reference. Every single person and every single thing, nearly literally, has been sucked into that monstrous black hole up there. Including every single fragment of black, empty space that used to provide the canvas for this bleak continuum. And most of your friends—Rose, Dave, absurd Cat Dave, and hundreds of ghosts, who all valiantly contributed to a victory which you’re only now beginning to question the functional necessity of.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: functional... necessity?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that... that doesn’t sound like something i would think.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">That’s because it’s not. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: what the fuck...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You’ve finally noticed. </p>
    <p class="dirk">No, not me. You go back to ignoring the fact that I’m the voice in your head. You noticed how it hurts when you breathe. Suddenly you remember: Lord English’s tooth is still embedded in your chest. You panic, wrap your hands around the base, and give it a little tug. It’s excruciating. The tooth makes an awful grating sound as it grinds along one of your ribs. You gasp and lose your grip, biting the inside of your mouth so hard that you taste blood.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Can’t blame you for trying, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Without someone to administer proper medical care, you’ll bleed to death pretty much instantly. On the other hand, the tooth is poisoned. So you’re pretty much fucked either way, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: sigh.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You sigh in painful resignation, and wonder what to do next. English is dead, so you suppose you can go home, right? It’s tempting. You consider zapping back to Earth C, being done with this nightmare for good, and never breathing a word of it to anyone ever again. But you can’t yet, can you?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Why not, you wonder? What’s the harm? You’re right, it would probably be a harmless decision, in the grand scheme of things. Certainly the easiest thing to do. But what about your friends? You saw Rose and Dave die with your own eyes. You saw countless ghosts getting swallowed whole by a voracious singularity. How about Jade though? She could still be out there somewhere, injured, alone, scared. And it’s your fault, isn’t it?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s all my fault.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You decide that no matter how terrible you feel, you should look around first before you leave. You were the one who dragged her here. You owe her at least that much. Plus, there’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You proceed to wander for a long fucking time. Time passes differently here than it does for everyone else. Here, I’ll simulate it for you. I just left to go take a piss. Then I microwaved myself a hot pocket. Then I came back. In the time it took me to do that, you just spent hours drifting around the entire circumference of the black hole thinking sad-sack thoughts about the years of inaction that led you to this point, intermittently humming the <em>Ghostbusters</em> theme to yourself. You get so worked up about one of your <em>GB</em> freestyles that you almost miss it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">There. Eleven o’clock. Do you see it? It’s that tiny dot floating over there.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You scramble to catch it before it drifts any closer to the event horizon. <em>Got it</em>. What the hell?</p>
    <p class="dirk">It feels familiar, but you want to make sure you’re not imagining it. A wallet. Your <em>dad’s</em> wallet. You chew your lip and press your fingers into the soft leather. Space is an infinitely large expanse and a wallet is a tiny, insignificant object. Sure, there have been crazier coincidences in the course of this wacky adventure you’ve been having for the past ten years, but this one feels very precisely aimed at your heart.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You take a deep breath, unfold the wallet, and open it. </p></div>
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  "19": |-
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            19
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">A</span>nyway, back to the B Plot.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Right about now, Jade should be wrapping up her political presentation to Roxy and Calliope, using a lot more graphs and far fewer words than Dave did when roping her into the election. Her approach is definitely more heady, but it’s also more accessible. Jade’s got this disarming combo of head-in-the-clouds flightiness and the kind of legit, down-to-earth cred that can only be earned by having done something like cutting open your own grandfather and stuffing him full of polyurethane foam.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: so you see janes neoliberal austerity measures—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy groans upon hearing the phrase “neoliberal austerity measures” for no less than the third time in this presentation.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: as i outlined here in graph b-2</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and here in figure a-6</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and here!!! in this very spooky drawing i dictated to callie</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: (great drawing by the way!!!)</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: ^u^</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: —will no doubt lead to a whole bunch of ugly societal backlashes</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: not just in economic terms but on a number of other more serious vertices that weve been lucky enough to avoid on new earth so far</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u dont say</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i DO say!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: the thing is that jane is an establishment leader</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: shes looking at doing things the way our old universes did them</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: shes pretty convinced that shes going to be able to replicate the capitalist hierarchies that earth had but in a more “responsible” way</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but none of that stuff actually worked!!!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and u think karkat can do better?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i think its worth it to give him a chance</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hes a leader of the people AND hes experienced firsthand what happens when establishment goes too far</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: which i imagine you can sympathize with!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade takes a deep breath, panting a little. Her graphs are floating around the living room in disarray. She spins them around her, gliding her hands through the air like a conductor, before folding the pages together and shrinking them to pocket size.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: and!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: that’s my pitch!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy and Calliope exchange a look. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i’m... </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: going to get Us tea and snacks. woUld yoU like some, jade?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah sure</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: any preferences?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ummm pumpkin matcha if you have it</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: of coUrse. i’ll be right back.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Calliope excuses herself from the conversation, and flees to the kitchen, seemingly making no attempt to disguise the fact that she is in fact fleeing. Jade deflates as she watches her go, sensing that her presentation wasn’t the slam dunk she was hoping for.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: soooo..........</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what do you think?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hmmmm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well i gotta say</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: this has been a hella convincing argument all in all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: buuuuut idk if i can help u out</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what????</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: why not?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy presses her lips together, then bounces her palms on her knees. Her gaze slides east, right out the window. She and Calliope live in a belfry above New Prospit. One end of their living room is an oriel window that looks out over a public park. The other disappears into an arcading hallway lit at the far end by a giant stained glass window that Calliope made herself. The corbels supporting it have windy, abstract shapes carved into them. This room reminds Jade of her childhood home, except that it’s bright and warm and not inhabited in all corners by corpses and ghosts.</p>
    <p class="dirk">That’s why she can’t settle down. That’s what keeps Jade Harley flitting from couch to couch, relationship to relationship. She can’t stop thinking to herself that “home” comes awfully close to rhyming with “alone.”</p>
    <p class="dirk">Home is John, who doesn’t call anymore. Home is when Rose and Kanaya welcome her in from a cold night and help her set lyrics to her sick basslines. Home is here, snorting at Roxy’s irreverent method of storytelling and admiring Callie’s art. Home is Dave and Karkat. <em>Especially </em>Dave and Karkat. Jade knows that this election is important for a number of reasons, but let’s not mistake her enthusiasm for some kind of humanistic altruism. Girl’s got personal reasons for doing all this.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade drifts down to sit cross-legged on the couch beside Roxy. She stares at her with a doggish expression—eyes wide, head lolling to the side—until she gets an answer.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just dont rly</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: care about politics that much i guess</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy turns to face Jade again, smiling apologetically.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: also this election is all kinds of personal </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean if i came into ur house and asked u to make some grand political w/e against your bff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: would you be all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh yea totes sign me tf up</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im alls ABOUT the sowing of discord among my childhood friends</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: siiiigh let me guess</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dirk got to you first</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: not even</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i got no problem tellin dirk where to stick it lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but dirks not the one running</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you think hes NOT the one pulling the strings behind the scenes?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sure but give janey a lil credit </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes got more moxie and ambition in her pinky than the rest of us got all together</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes been planning this for years</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but shes yknow</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ruthless? :B</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy frowns. Jade is being pretty unfair.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: *fragile*</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes gotta be miss perfect all the time for the billboards n press meetings</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: always wearin those power suits trying to look like a big bad bitch</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you mean like....... the condesce?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow ouch</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im not just imagining it though, right???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you see it too</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: not to dredge up something horrible from your history</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but her whole image is just kinda...... *woof*</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is that what you guys think?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u and dave and karkat?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: well... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy leans forward and stares Jade down, like she’s searching for something behind Jade’s eyes. Jade unwittingly responds in kind, looking for meaning behind Roxy’s gaze. But she comes up empty. And to be honest, so do I.</p>
    <p class="dirk">In the spirit of full disclosure, Roxy’s the only one left I haven’t been able to crack. Her mind remains a total enigma to me, just like it always has. If I had to guess, it’s her Void powers that make her invisible, even to increasingly omniscient parties such as myself. For all intents and purposes, it’s like her thoughts don’t exist. She’s the same person, as far as I can tell. She still wears her heart on her sleeve. But the bottom line remains: Roxy Lalonde is still utterly fucking inscrutable.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well janes not perfect</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy shrugs and runs a hand through her hair, which has been recently cut shorter than usual.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and idk if shell be a good president</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but shes not betty crocker</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and i luv her and i dont wanna hurt her feelings</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and thats p much all there is to say on the matter</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Calliope returns from the kitchen with three cups, a handmade teapot, and some candied cakes. Jade finally relents.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: fiiiiine </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i understand</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: callie what about you?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Calliope sets down the snacks, and brushes Jade’s skirt aside so she can sit down. She puts a claw to her mouth and makes a facial expression more complicated than you’d think a skull would be capable of.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: oh, i’d rather stay Uninvolved, thank yoU.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: :(</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i feel like interfering in both politics and a personal argUment between my friends woUld be impolite as well as kind of... stressfUl, to be honest.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: yeah</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sorry callie i probably shouldnt have put all that on you</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: less apologizing, more snacking!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Calliope claps her hands together. It’s a bright noise. Her tone of voice is bright too. All these years and she still can’t believe that she has so many friends. She smiles at Jade, and Jade smiles back. The tea tastes great. The cakes are even better. Callie’s an artist in everything she does. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: wow callie youre such an amazing hostess!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hehehe roxy youre so lucky to have her</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy giggles. Awkwardly. She gives Jade a gentle jostle, an elbow to the ribs, and lowers her voice.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: psst not “her,” “them”</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade tenses up, and pales. Turns a wide-eyed look to Calliope, who is still smiling politely. She realizes, a bit too late, the profoundly insensitive nature of her social misstep. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh!!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She grabs one of Calliope’s hands.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh wow!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im sorry i didnt mean to be uh... culturally insensitive?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: have i just been stupidly calling you a girl for years like a big fat dummy??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh nooooo! im such an asshole!!!!!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yoU are absolUtely not an asshole!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i didn’t mind being called a girl. i still don’t really mind, it’s jUst not exactly... accUrate.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: bUt i did take comfort in “being a girl” for a very long time. this is something i’ve only recently decided.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea...!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy pauses, even though the lilt of her voice makes the sentence sound unfinished. She stutters the next part out.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: m-me too actually</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: o yeah we are both a “they” household now</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: package deal thing</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: things r nonbinary as fuck around here</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Wait. </p>
    <p class="dirk">What?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: really? </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yup</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean thats probably a dumb and bad way to say it dont tell anyone i said it that way rofl</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but yeah thats about whats goin on</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy? Seriously? </p>
    <p class="dirk">Like I said, fucking <em>inscrutable</em>.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I never would have guessed. Not that I’ve spent much time contemplating issues related to gender. I’m pretty secure in my expression of masculinity, and...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">You know what? Fuck this. I don’t owe anyone an explanation of any sort on this topic. I’m confident with who I am, what I am, my gender, as well as my understanding of the concept. You want my honest opinion? It’s fucking fantastic. Good for them. Both of them, I mean, but also, both of them in a singular fashion, since each one can now individually be referred to by the conventionally plural word “them.” I’m ecstatic for this personal development they’ve embraced, for the people they are, the lack of gender they identify with, and the pronouns they prefer. I’ve got no problem with it whatsoever, and frankly, it’s <em>fucking insulting</em> anyone would ever imagine otherwise.</p>
    <p class="dirk">So yeah, I’m gonna allow it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Carry on.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow that felt good to say aloud man</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ahah hahaha hell of a way to come out</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its ok</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i dont wanna make you uncomfortable</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but i am curious!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: if you need to talk about it i mean</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: callie and i have been talkin about it a lot</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: unpackin all kinda baggage w/ their alien stuff and my human stuff</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and so i got to thinking</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what even is gender</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: amirite lol?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh yeah </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: that makes sense i guess........</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade looks at where her hands are folded in her lap. Bites her lip. She has her own concerns about this, her own thoughts. Reasonable thoughts, I’d say. But I’ll refrain from any further comment. I’m staying away from this subject, from now on.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: so youre uh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: not...... “doing gender” anymore??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ya i guess not lmfao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean that was all stuff from our old universe</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whyd we even bring it here right?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: right</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Calliope takes a teacake between two of her claws and eats it delicately, hyper-aware of the horrible gnashing and snapping her powerful jaw is capable of.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: my ideas aboUt gend—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">SHIT. Between two of <em>their</em> claws. They take a teacake between two of their claws and eats it delicately. Sorry, my bad.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: —er were entirely inflUenced by my time watching earth.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i sUppose i only thoUght of myself as a girl because my, Um...  </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: my brother took mascUlinity qUite serioUsly.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: by which i mean, he became very enthUsiastic aboUt all the things it sUpposedly meant to be a boy.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: cherUb existence is dichotomoUs, bUt not in the same way hUman biology is.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i sUppose oUr view of hUman cUlture indirectly inflUenced alternia’s development, which in tUrn affected yoUrs, which is something i’ve had a lot of time to think aboUt since we came here.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: it’s all so very circUitoUs and arbitrary.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah exactly!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like when u think about it...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so much of what earth c thinks what boys and girls “SHOULD” do comes straight from the imagination of a bunch of dumb teens</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: which is totally FUCKED</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sure</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade nods quite thoughtfully. She’d be a doggy’s fucking uncle if she wasn’t gonna come across woke as hell about all this. Truthfully though, it <em>was</em> making sense to her. Eye-opening, really. Why hadn’t anyone told her this was even an option when she was younger? She probably would have loved being a “they” when she was a teen.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean what am i gonna do</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: get married and pop out 100 bbs?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: uh... no???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: exactly</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean once upon a time i guess i thought about that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but i dont think its what i really wanted</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just liked the idea of me and dirk makin some smart ass awesome kids together</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cuz i liked the idea of dirk </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and also literally no one else on the entire planet was alive at the time</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but we had some babies without even bein consulted about it anyway so w/e</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: your kids ARE pretty cool</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i KNOW right? </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: personally im a big fan!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">And like that, Jade’s smiling again. The storm clouds pass so quickly in her world, you almost wouldn’t have thought there was anything wrong at all. Roxy and Calliope certainly didn’t notice.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But there is something wrong. And this time, they’ll notice.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jade">JADE: i...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i.........  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade drops her tea. The cup hits the floor and shatters.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jade?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She takes in a sharp breath. She’s not feeling well suddenly. She’s dizzy, feverish, seeing things beyond her field of vision. A blinding flash of light. A black, perfect circle, burning a hole in her eyes. She tries to stand, but her knees wobble and knock together. Roxy shoots out of her seat and catches her before she hits the floor.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: o shit</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: is she okay?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: get a cloth from the kitchen! and some water!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: okay! i’ll be right back!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy eases Jade onto the couch and checks her pulse. She doesn’t look bad at all— Jade wears unconsciousness well, having spent the better part of her life napping. Roxy slaps her cheeks lightly and says her name. Begs her to wake up.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But she can’t hear her. Jade is somewhere else right now.</p></div>
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  "2": |-
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/meat_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            2
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">In the heart of the Troll Kingdom’s capital city, Dave and Karkat are sitting on their couch with a foot and a half of space between them. It’s a typically picturesque day outside, but Karkat has the curtains drawn shut all the way. This is part of their compromise living situation: Dave puts up with the trollish non-euclidean architecture and bizarre social mores, and Karkat has adjusted his diurnal schedule to, in theory, see the sun. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro you have got to check this out</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat is leaning forward, munching on chocolate-coated beetles and totally absorbed in what he’s watching. The glow from the television highlights the dark bags under his eyes. Dave reaches out and, very gently, pokes Karkat in the cheek. Karkat flinches out of his full-body slouch.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOT NOW DAVE. JAKE’S ASS IS ON TV AGAIN.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stop ogling jakes ass this is important</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO TELL ME WHOSE ASS I SHOULD STOP OGLING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LOOK. IT’S ABSOLUTELY HYPNOTIC.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY, PER SE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave casts a weary look towards the TV, where Jake English is shamelessly exhibiting what is definitely his best feature in front of a live studio audience. This is a regular highlight of his and Dirk’s hit television show, <em>RUMBLE IN DA PUMPKIN PATCH</em>, a schizophrenic cross-section of rap battle and robot wrestling that Rose once described as “an exploitative, almost Dada-esque clusterfuck of circumlocutory pretension and sweaty, homoerotic astriction.” Jake came up with the title for the show, and Dirk absolutely loathed it. However, before Dirk could insist on an alternative, Jake had already posted an online poll pitting his idea against “Whatever dirks lame idea is.” Needless to say, the second option was much less popular.</p>
    <p>Karkat gestures at the televised spectacle, a bit helplessly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S ALL IN THE WAY IT’S BEING PROGRAMMED BY THE STATION.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO NOTICE, BECAUSE IT’S NOT LIKE I MAKE IT A POINT OF STAYING GLUED TO THIS PHONY TELEVISED HUMAN GLADIATOR GARBAGE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S SOFT AS FUCK. THEY BARELY EVEN TRY TO MAKE IT SEEM REAL. DAVE, I CONSIDER MYSELF A COSMOPOLITAN INDIVIDUAL. A MAN OF LEARNING? BUT AS A NATIVE ALTERNIAN, I’M ACTUALLY FUCKING OFFENDED BY THIS INSULTING DISPLAY OF NAMBY PAMBY PAGEANTRY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ANYWAY, THE MORE I WATCH, I CAN’T HELP BUT NOTICE THE CAMERA’S LECHEROUS FIXATION ON THIS BOY’S VOLUPTUOUS POSTERIOR. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CAN’T SAY I BLAME THEM, I GUESS??? AT LEAST IT SHOWS THEY KNOW EXACTLY WHAT’S PAYING THE FUCKING BILLS, BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T THE QUALITY OF THE SLAM POETRY.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok who gives a shit about that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: although it pleases me to hear you taking note of the economics of this broadcast since it is apropos to the topic at hand but more on that later</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: APROPOS TO FUCKING WHAT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T HAVE TIME TO “SCOPE THE LATEST MEME,” DAVE. YOU ARE COMING PERILOUSLY CLOSE TO CUTTING INTO MY IMPORTANT LEISURE TIME AS IT IS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: leisure time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this is all you ever do all day</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also its not a meme its much more important</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, EXCUSE ME, HOT SHOT. BUT WHAT POSSIBLY COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LATEST MEME?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WAS A JOKE, FYI. NOW LEAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jane is running for president</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave scoots a foot and a half closer so that they can both read the news on his phone. Karkat tips his head to the side to get a better view, until it bumps against Dave’s shoulder.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: got the announcement right here </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU MEAN PRESIDENT OF EARTH?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY THE FUCK WOULD SHE WANT TO DO THAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno crocker is just an ambitious woman i guess</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS SOUNDS FUCKING AWFUL.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh it is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it absolutely is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dont tell her i said this but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think shes basically a fascist</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY WOULD I TELL HER YOU SAID THAT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN THE FUCK WAS THE LAST TIME EITHER OF US HAD FUCK ALL TO DO WITH *JANE*</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just like, a figure of speech i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh also shes a fucking xenophobe</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OF COURSE SHE’S A XENOPHOBE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat, without drastically altering his position on the couch, turns his head so that he can look Dave straight in the sunglasses. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE NOTICED, BUT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: A LOT OF HUMANS ARE???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah ive noticed </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO, WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE EVEN MEAN SHE’S “RUNNING”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT A COMPLETE LOAD OF SHIT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHE’S A GOD. WHICH ONE OF THE TOADYING IDIOTS ON THIS PLANET WOULD DARE TO RUN AGAINST HER.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHE’S GOING TO WIN IN A LANDSLIDE, ASSUMING SHE DOESN’T JUST WALTZ INTO OFFICE UNCONTESTED.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i dont disagree</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is why we have to stop her </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HUH?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU SAYING?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU TELLING ME *YOU’RE* GOING TO RUN AGAINST JANE?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat’s laughter is uproarious, incredulous. He reaches for another beetle as his guffaws subside, and eats it in a manner he hopes will convey his casual contempt for Dave’s insinuation. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW *RICH* SHE IS?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude were all rich</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we like invented the fucking economy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WELL, YEAH</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT NOT LIKE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: *CROCKER* RICH</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im not running</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you are</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat stops chewing his beetle and does a literal spit take right into Dave’s face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ME???????????????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its perfect</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre the ideal opponent to take her down and tbh just what this planet needs</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO I’M NOT!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE ESTABLISHED THIS... HOW MANY YEARS AGO?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT A LEADER. I WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE ONE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JANE PROBABLY IS. ALTHOUGH TO BE FAIR, I’M AGREEING WITH YOU, SHE’S A COMPLETE ASSHOLE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M JUST NOT THE ONE TO RUN AN EFFECTIVE OPPOSITION CAMPAIGN. WHERE... HOW... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: obviously you wouldnt do it on your own i would help</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: id be like your campaign manager, or chief strategy guy or whatever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also youre wrong</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you were meant to be a leader and youd be a good one</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just not the kind of leader you always thought youd be</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not a bellicose conquering dickhead who commands “fear and respect”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just a guy who is cool and nice and actually cares about stuff and everyone loves them for that reason</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: PEOPLE DON’T LOVE ME!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre breaking my heart dude </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: brb gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHUT THE FUCK UP</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it still amazes me how little awareness you genuinely seem to have of how insanely popular you are on this planet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its fucking adorable</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE WRONG! ALL I SEE IS JAKE ON TV! AND JANE IN THE NEWS STORIES ABOUT HER STUPID BUSINESS, AND DIRK DOING WHATEVER... FUCKED UP SHIT HE’S DOING WITH HIS CELEBRITY PRESENCE??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I SEE YOUR MUG A LOT TOO, MR. FUCKING POLITICAL PUPPET MASTER.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’D GET MORE VOTES THAN ME, AND YOU KNOW IT. YOU’RE PROBABLY JUST A COWARD!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you only see famous humans on tv because you just avoid all troll kingdom channels deliberately </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you hate it whenever you see yourself on tv</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dont pretend i dont notice you change the channel as fast as possible whenever you see yourself</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH WELL MAYBE I </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Karkat hesitates, then slouches back into the couch cushions, restoring the customary foot and a half of space he and Dave usually keep between them except when watching horror movies, eating chips, or talking about the top six hundred stupid things Karkat saw earlier that day because he made his intrepid annual decision to go outside.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MAYBE I DON’T ACTUALLY LIKE BEING FAMOUS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND MAYBE THAT’S AS GOOD A FUCKING REASON AS ANY *NOT TO RUN FOR THE FUCKING PRESIDENCY OF EARTH*?????</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOT TO MENTION THE IDEA OF AN ELECTION IS KIND OF A FUCKED UP AND WEIRD THING TO ME CULTURALLY ANYWAY, AND I’M STILL KIND OF GETTING USED TO THE IDEA THAT PEOPLE CAN JUST... “CHOOSE” THEIR FUCKING LEADERS AND NOT HAVE THE SAME OLD MERCILESS BITCH IN POWER FOR SEVERAL MILLION YEARS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well what better way to acquaint yourself with democracy than to take a crack at high office yourself</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude seriously you would absolutely kill it with the troll voting block</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the entire kingdom would vote for you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theyd go ballistic if they heard a troll actually had the guts to run against jane, let alone one of their heroes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and frankly just between you and me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jane is...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how do i put this</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok ill just be the one to come out and say it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes going to be a fucking disaster for the economy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess i have to admit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: part of this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for me personally</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING DAVE</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its about obama</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Very slowly, Karkat raises his right palm and forcefully unites it with his own face.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he barely even got a chance to prove himself</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he was sworn into office and it was cool and everything was gonna be great but then</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: everyone died a few months later because of meteors</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude was just gettin warmed up... so sad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i wonder if he would have fixed the economy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i bet he would have fixed the economy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, AS MUCH AS I ENJOY LISTENING TO YOU RAMBLE THROUGH YET ANOTHER CHAPTER OF YOUR FREESTYLE OBAMA FAN FICTION</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T YOU ALREADY HAVE A BASIS FOR KNOWING HOW HIS PRESIDENCY WOULD HAVE GONE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, WASN’T HE PRESIDENT IN THE TIME LINE JANE GREW UP IN TOO?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean yeah of course i know that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i just dont like to think much about that time line</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it doesnt really feel like its</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: canon?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DIDN’T SOME CLOWNS TAKE OVER THE WORLD OR SOMETHING?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont wanna talk about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the point is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in the world that mattered more, i mean like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the one i belonged to that i used to imagine had a real future</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that didnt involve meteors or a fish dictator or the american political landscape turning into a nightmarish daily joke</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i still wonder what could have been </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if the O man coulda saved us all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but instead he died probably</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or maybe not... maybe there was like an escape hatch in the white house that led to his own secret presidential session of sburb</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if hes just chillin there now</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, I THINK WE’VE COVERED YOUR “OBAMA’S SECRET SESSION OF SBURB” THEORY WELL ENOUGH ALREADY.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know i know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im just saying is all</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DREAM! I FUCKING GET IT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but yeah its more likely he just died </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but maybe it doesnt have to be in vain</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if he died for our sins or something</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HMM! SOUNDS FUCKING MEANINGLESS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i mean what if like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he could be reborn</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES, WE’VE BEEN OVER YOUR OBAMA GOD TIER HEADCANONS TOO.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: reborn as you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: metaphorically</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you could be the great president he never got the chance to be</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you could give the people hope and shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you could inspire trolls everywhere</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or really all nonhuman kingdoms</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: show them anybody could be a president</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not just an endless parade of rich humans who think they all know whats best for everybody</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, I’M PRETTY SURE ANYONE *COULD* BE PRESIDENT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S ALWAYS SEEMED TO ME THAT HUMANS JUST SEEM TO BE MORE NATURALLY AMBITIOUS, AND THAT’S WHY THE POWER STRUCTURES TOOK THE SHAPE THEY DID THE LAST FEW MILLENNIA. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, I DON’T CLAIM TO BE AN EXPERT ON XENOPSYCHOLOGY, BUT FOR SOME REASON I STRUGGLE TO IMAGINE A FUCKING SALAMANDER GETTING THE GUMPTION TO THROW HIS CRUMPLED HAT INTO THE RING FOR THE PRESIDENCY OF EARTH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR THE CARAPACIANS FOR THAT MATTER?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THESE ARE NOT AMBITIOUS CREATURES WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HERE, DAVE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THEY’RE A HUGE FLOCK OF WOOLBEASTS, DAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat dont stereotype</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: remember the mayor</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: remember how at one point a long time ago he raised an army and rebelled against an evil king </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH YEAH</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SOMEHOW I ALWAYS FORGET HE DID THAT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: KIND OF MIND BOGGLING, REALLY. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOLY SHIT, I MISS THE MAYOR.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: me too</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave and Karkat both observe a moment of silence—a delicate and trembling pause of utmost respect to perhaps the greatest and purest being who had ever come forth from Paradox Space. Dave pats Karkat’s knee comfortingly, and Karkat lets out a quivering breath of sorrow, of remembrance.</p>
    <p>Into this reverent silence, Dave says:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think he would be totally in favor of my idea btw</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he loved democracy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO SHIT, HE WAS A FUCKING MAYOR.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean forget all the lizards and chess guys for a second</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just imagine the good you could do for the troll kingdom</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you would do a much better job of speaking to the injustices trolls face than jane would</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT INJUSTICES</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude please</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: where to even begin</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know earth c has generally been a pretty chill place to live but theres been some shit going on that is legit creepy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: all this “population regulation” bullshit thats been going on since we basically set up civilization and peaced out to the future</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: when you think about its long term consequences its been fuckin weird</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like the government being responsible for troll reproduction through cloning</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a government that just happens to be predominantly human most of the time?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like it makes sense on paper at first, no mother grub, gotta keep the race going and expand the population for a good while and get the numbers up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: until kanaya gets here and hatches the grub and then i guess a system of “natural reproduction” can take over in theory but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: after so many centuries of that shit doesnt the weird political imbalance like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: get entrenched??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">There’s a measure of real concern and passion working its way into Dave’s voice. Karkat, despite his typical front of loud indignation, hangs on every word. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and once rose and kanaya crank out a few more broods in the caverns i guess were supposed to think its all fixed right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: back to Trolls As Usual or something</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but do you really think the human kingdom is going to just sit back and let the troll race proliferate wildly all over earth</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: turn it into another alternian empire</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: folks know the history</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: they know about the condesce and all the violence and the hemospectrum and shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theyre scared to death of the possibility that trolls could run wild all over the planet</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, I KNOW ALL THIS. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IN FACT, *YOU* KNOW ALL OF THIS BECAUSE YOU’VE HEARD ME SAY IT TO KANAYA A THOUSAND TIMES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ACTUALLY, IN AN EFFORT TO NOT GO FUCKING INSANE, I TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT ANYMORE!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well maybe its time to start thinking about it again</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro did u know, sitting on the sidelines in the face of oppression is tantamount to siding with the oppressors</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UHNGH.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you think a crocker administration is really going to go through with plans to deregulate troll breeding?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she knows exactly what her base wants </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i can already see the dog whistles in this press release she isnt gonna do shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and really man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if nothing else and i truly mean NOTHING</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: please</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for the love of christ</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: think of the economy</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ARRRGH!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The outburst is all Karkat can do to release whatever tension Dave’s impassioned appeal was causing to brew inside him. Motherfucker literally just told him to think of the economy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jane has this reputation for being awesome at business but imo she actually just sucks </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she doesnt seem to be even remotely aware how much shes leveraged her status as a god to become a bigshot trillionaire </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think she thinks its all pure business acumen but i think she doesnt really know what shes doing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuckers left and right just be tripping all day long to give her money hand over fist</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course shes gonna milk her biz cred for all its worth in this election</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes probably a much better politician than a businesswoman actually she is like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sinister as fuck? i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she hides it well dont get me wrong</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also she isnt too hard on the eyes which wont hurt her chances one bit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but shes going to be BRUTAL on their pocketbooks just you wait</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she doesnt know the nuances of sound comprehensive fiscal policy like i do</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my skills are fucking legendary</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i manipulated the stock market to assume control of the literal majority of all currency on the planet once</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: granted the economy was run by lobotomized reptiles but still</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait that was speciesist sorry</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the point stands though i know what im doing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what do you think is going to happen when jane takes over and the economy crashes</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T KNOW???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its going to be pandemonium</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WILL IT ACTUALLY BE THOUGH?!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok if shit goes sideways i guess we arent gonna see like raggedy turtles and pauper chess men standing in bread lines or anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats just the nature of alchemy-based post-scarcity economies the depressions tend to be pretty mild</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but it will still be bad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a healthy economy is fuckin IMPORTANT</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if for no other reason than it protects the societal context for what it means to be fucking rich, like us</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JUST A THOUGHT. LET’S COME UP WITH A DIFFERENT CAMPAIGN SLOGAN THAN THAT, OK?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but the point is just</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she sucks and shouldnt be president the end</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you dont even have to think about economic shit i can do that for you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ill be like the treasury secretary or something </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just please tell me youll do this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do it for the trolls do it for the economy do it for the mayor</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but most of all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (sniff)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave wipes an invisible tear from beneath the rim of his sunglasses.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do it for obama</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GOD DAMN IT DAVE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T REALLY GIVE A FUCK ABOUT POLITICS, OR BEING A LEADER ANYMORE, AND I THINK YOU KNOW THAT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE ECONOMY, AND WHILE I’M SURE THIS OBAMA FELLOW WAS A HELL OF A GUY, I COULDN’T GIVE LESS A FUCK ABOUT HIM EITHER.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DO CARE ABOUT YOU.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave smiles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’LL DO IT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY NOT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nice!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: aw yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you wont regret it this is gonna be dope</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think we have a great shot too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: with my political savvy and economic genius and outrageous flair for subversive anti establishment messaging and propaganda, and your big loud fucking mouth...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: um i guess also your charisma and likability and shit</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M PRETTY SURE I CAN FAKE THOSE THINGS WELL ENOUGH.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh also </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: your weirdly sincere humility</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I PREFER THE TERM “SELF LOATHING” ACTUALLY.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok lets try to avoid that phrase on the campaign trail too</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS ALREADY SOUNDS LIKE A PAIN IN THE ASS.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">There’s a gap of silence in the conversation, long enough for the audio from the television to become noticeable. Jake is rambling out a truly dire piece of slam poetry that involves—with zero hint of irony—the terms <em>batty-fang</em> and <em>mad as hops</em>. The neon light blaring out from the screen casts long waves of color along the black walls of the hive and bounces off the glass of the framed print of Dave’s “least psychologically revealing <em>SBaHJ</em> strip.” Karkat sighs and rubs the space between his horns.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CAN’T I JUST</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: READ A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT YOU WRITE FOR ME OFF A TELEPROMPTER?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah there will definitely be plenty of that</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave grabs his tablet off the shelf. He pivots back around and points the pen straight at Karkat. The arc of his arm’s motion is polished and decisive even though it’s been a long time since he’s properly used a sword.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but you also need to be natural and speak from the heart and shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: talk to your people</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: about stuff they care about</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: “MY PEOPLE”?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU MEAN TROLLS??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i guess that sounded bad sorry</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but yeah exactly</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: trolls</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats gonna be your base so you gotta rile em up </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: inspire them</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont think you need any fancy speeches to do that youll be a natural</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF YOU SAY SO.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO WHAT DO WE ACTUALLY... DO?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, NEXT?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave plops down on the floor and gestures for Karkat to join him on the cold stone. He swipes the tablet on and taps the screen with the pen. Karkat lies down on his stomach and props his chin on his palms so that he can watch Dave scribble political ambitions directly into the shittiest paint program on his OS.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: time to talk some strategy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we need to rally as much high profile support to our cause as we can</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but there are some uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: “lines of loyalty” to figure out</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean which of our friends are going to side with us and which ones will side with jane</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: pretty much all of us are famous and popular all over earth to some degree</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: some of us more so with certain kingdoms than others </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so some key endorsements going either way could swing the whole election</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, GREAT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO IT ALL COMES DOWN TO HOW MANY FAMOUS HUMANS LIKE ME BETTER THAN JANE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE’RE FUCKED.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well no not so fast</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets think it through</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youll have overwhelming support in the troll kingdom and so does kanaya</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes pretty much a lock to be on your side</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirk unfortunately is just as much a lock for jane im gonna guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but after that its kind of a free for all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: roxy and calliope will probably be neutral </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: they have a lot of pull with the carapacians though so that would be a nice score to sway them</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: rose will probably claim neutrality at first but im betting she can be cajoled by her wife to our side</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and once we get rose converting roxy probably wont be too hard</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: as for jade...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">They stare at each other. Karkat sighs and Dave raps his pen against the tablet screen in a slow, uneven staccato. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think its fair to say shes going to be on our side</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe a little too much so</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UM, YEAH</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I WASN’T GOING TO BE THE ONE TO SAY IT, BUT YEAH, I GET WHAT YOU MEAN.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course we want her help and her endorsement will go a long way but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think we gotta sort out like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a hierarchical approach to campaign strategy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: keep it organized and disciplined with roles well defined</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not let things get too murky with uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: personal shit?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I THINK WE’RE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE, DAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok cool</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway lets come back to the jade issue later</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh lets see who else</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: EGBERT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john should be easy to convince but im not sure how much of a factor hell be in this campaign</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: have no idea how long hell be away on this “mission” rose mentioned</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT? WHAT MISSION?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dunno shes been hella cagey about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: swore me to secrecy until the right time whenever that is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway his endorsement would go a long way in swinging the consort kingdom</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WOULD BE HUGE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AREN’T THERE LIKE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: 100 BILLION OF THOSE FUCKERS?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SECURING THAT VOTING BLOCK SHOULD BE ABLE TO WIN THE WHOLE THING FOR US.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well no the population isnt THAT big but yes its by far the most populous kingdom</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: swinging them our way should help a lot but it wont be enough to decide the whole thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: consorts overwhelm the other kingdoms in sheer numbers but due to unscrupulous gerrymandering, all kinds of fucked up voter suppression policies and some electoral “counterbalancing” measures to account for their ridiculous population growth rate their voting power per capita is kind of pathetic</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also its hard to drive turnout</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this may come as a shock but legions of easily distracted low information amphibians primarily concerned with eating bugs and farming god damned mushrooms arent the most politically motivated demographic</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so to get them out to the polls well need to get them REALLY excited</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I GUESS I’LL HAVE TO TRUST YOUR EXPERTISE ON THAT, SINCE I DON’T KNOW THE FIRST FUCKING THING ABOUT HOW TO INSPIRE AN UNINTELLIGENT LIZARD.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah well</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont either</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but that brings us to jake</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s butt flexes on the television, as if in response. Karkat cannot avoid watching it from the corner of his eye. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, FUCK.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no this is important</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jake is a huge wild card here </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im sure his endorsement would be completely up for grabs</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he could go any way including just getting turned off by the whole thing and staying “apolitical”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so we have to be careful about how we approach him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jake is the only one of us whos wildly popular in all four kingdoms</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WELL, I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah so an endorsement from him would be huge</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: seriously just running one ad of him doing his double pistol winking bullshit with a thing under it saying “VOTE KARKAT” might be enough to win the whole election</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just have to get the fickle bastard to agree to that which could be tricky</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and honestly id be shocked if jane hasnt already started courting his vote</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theres no way she doesnt understand the political stakes</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THE JAKESTAKES THEN.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: pretty much</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the jakestakes 2.0</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THERE WAS A 1.0?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh thats like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a whole story </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THIS GOING TO BE ANOTHER ANECDOTE ABOUT THE JAKE SQUAD I WON’T CARE ABOUT AND DON’T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that sounds like the exact kind of opinion youd have about it so yeah</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THEN I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR ABOUT IT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hmm</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shit hold up</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave fishes his phone out from his lap.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirks calling me</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE WANT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk he just calls me out of the blue from time to time to talk shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: usually about nothing whatsoever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hell probably joke about how he needs me to cut off his head</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HUH???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its a running gag hes been running into the ground for years</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: motherfucker is dedicated to his memes ill give him that</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU SAID HE’S GOING TO BE A CROCKER LOYALIST RIGHT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh absolutely</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no doubt about it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU DON’T THINK HE’S TRYING TO DO SOME...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: RECONNAISSANCE WORK HERE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LIKE, INTEL GATHERING?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: he doesnt even know youre entering the race yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no one does</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK. GOOD.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I GUESS YOU’D BETTER ANSWER THEN.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok well i missed the call while we were bullshitting about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but yeah ill just call him back now </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave hits the callback button. On the television, Dirk’s phone begins ringing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sup</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey dude.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave hears the reply through his phone, and then a moment later, through the TV, due to the broadcasting delay. The whole show has stopped so that Dirk can take this call. The camera zooms in on where he’s casually lying on the mat, bruised and a little bit bloody. In the background, Jake strikes an attractive, cocked-hip pose. He’s spinning a revolver around on one finger, affecting an aura of attractive indifference, but the look he’s shooting his sparring partner is caught halfway between confused and exasperated. </p>
    <p>Karkat looks from Dave to the TV and back again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Got your sword handy?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: always</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Good. See, I’m in sort a bind here.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: And I’m afraid there’s only one way out.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OK, I’M FUCKING LEAVING. </p>
    </div></div>
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            20
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ade gasps awake, and begins to spiral. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Her body vibrates, sending waves of space distortion out in all directions. But there’s nothing to absorb those distortions—no space, no nothing. She’s floating in a void of pure, overwhelming light. She feels it even before she feels the pain from the wound in her chest. The vast emptiness surrounding her. The absolute abyss once known as the Furthest Ring.</p>
    <p class="dirk">For a moment, she has the feeling that she’s recalling something. Images and sounds in her head that resemble memories. But the memories aren’t hers, exactly. They seem to be someone else’s. There’s an older version of Roxy... someone with a cheerful green skull for a head, who was... Roxy’s girlfriend? Something about an election. No, this doesn’t make any sense at all. The memories are slipping away, anyway. Quickly, they dissolve, and soon they’re completely out of her mind’s reach, like she’s waking from a dream. Just like that, they’re gone.</p>
    <p class="dirk">All that’s left are the memories belonging to her, along with the dire predicament for which she must claim responsibility. Her friends. Lord English. This great nothingness. This savage wound in her chest. That...  </p>
    <p class="dirk"><em>That black hole</em>.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She looks away from it. Quickly, reflexively, the way you turn away from a light source that’s too bright. The hole causes the same kind of discomfort to behold. It’s so dark it hurts. Yet it calls her. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Her hair spills around her like tentacles unfurling. She coils into a fetal position and runs her fingers along the edge of the shard in her chest. It sends pins and needles under her skin. It’s pure... negative potential. The absence of a future. The thing skewering her through right now is the space between breaths, between atoms. She tries to remove it but has trouble getting a grip on it. It fails to behave like a solid piece of matter, remains lodged within her stubbornly. It hurts, but she won’t finish dying. Not just yet.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She unfolds, blinking against the vast, empty light around her. Her memories crease as she moves, filling her mind with the knowledge of the last few hours. She’s sixteen, she thinks, trying to orient herself. And she just fought Lord English after being plucked out of a doomed timeline. At least, if you can even call what she did fighting. But what was that dream? It was significant, she’s knows that much. Dave and Karkat? Why did they jump into her mind as a unit? Earth C. What’s Earth C? Concepts collide, commingle. Two different understandings of her world knit into each other as easily as she takes her next breath. Urgency bleeds off her neural receptors, melts right out of her fingertips. She lets herself float, unmoored, carried along an ebb tide in space that only she can perceive.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She wonders if anyone else survived. She wants to see John.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She didn’t notice the moment she turned her gaze back toward the black hole. But now she couldn’t look away if she tried. In slow, hazy spirals, it beckons her. The longer she stares at it, the deeper she peers into the folds of infinite atrophy, and the louder it gets. Loud? She only now notices there is sound emanating from it, but not the kind physical ears can detect. The hole has a voice—one that becomes material the more the expanding black sphere dominates her senses.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade’s wound throbs. She hears the voice fill up the dark space between her ribs. It’s calling to her from the center of the death of everything. She kicks off her ruby red slippers, and drifts ever closer.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">come.</p>
    <p class="dirk">What the fuck?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Forget I said that. Jade leans into her accelerating descent. She listens for another command. But the hole has seemingly said all it will. She considers asking who is speaking, but her mouth stays shut, powerless against the forces transfixing her. Jade has no way of knowing who this voice belongs to. She has no context for understanding the true nature of this being, what role she has played in bringing about the end, and how <em>long</em> she has been waiting for this. She has no idea. But I do.</p>
    <p class="dirk">The dead cherub is making her move.</p>
    <p class="dirk">We should get the fuck out of here. Let’s see what Dave’s up to, okay?</p></div>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: holy shit thats disgusting</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T BE A FUCKING XENOPHOBE</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im not being a xenophobe</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat doesn’t respond immediately. He shuffles his feet to the edge of the outcropping they’re standing on and stares down at the brood pit, where the Mother Grub of Earth C is squelching out unfertilized jelly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude you know im not a xenophobe</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">No answer. This silence makes Dave actually back up for three seconds and think about what the hell just came out of his mouth. He’s worried that maybe he said something wrong here, that he was being horribly insensitive inside a place that’s probably holy ground for the few Alternia-born trolls left alive. Maybe flippant xenophobia isn’t the best look in front of your alien pseudo-boyfriend when it comes to jamming about the irreconcilable biological differences between your species.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave could definitely be handling this situation with a certain measure of restraint or grace. But he’s got my genes, so he decides to handle it a different way than that. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean thats what this whole election thing is about</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: having your back when it comes to this reproduction issue</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that and the economy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lets not lose TOTAL sight of the economy in this critical discussion</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but im almost as passionate about this troll speciesism thing as i am about the economy which you may not have known is my number one issue</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my wheelhouse you could say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but my other wheelhouse is like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: giving a fuck about your feelings and culture and shit?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat still doesn’t answer. He’s staring real intently at the jelly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude hey</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo karkat you listening?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HEY DIPSHIT, SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT IGNORING YOU BECAUSE I’M MAD.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that wasnt what i</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I KNOW THAT YOU PERISH LIKE A DELICATE LILAC BLOOM IN THE FUCKING DESERT IF NOT SHOWERED WITH MY VERBAL ATTENTION AT ALL TIMES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT I’M KIND OF WITNESSING THE REBIRTH OF MY ENTIRE FUCKING SPECIES RIGHT HERE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU EVER THINK THAT THIS MIGHT BE A MONUMENTAL MOMENT FOR ME?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT I MIGHT BE AWESTRUCK AT THE PURE MAJESTY OF THIS SIGHT?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave comes to the edge of the outcropping, standing shoulder to shoulder with Karkat as he too observes the majesty of translucent goo getting birthed out of an alien asshole.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Karkat’s got a strange expression on his face, cast half in shadow and half in orange light. Dave winces as the grub’s nasty slime chute sputters out a bunch of air bubbles. It’s a gross, gurgling fart that goes on basically forever. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah but it is totally disgusting right</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT PART OF THIS IS DISGUSTING?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS IT THE SLOW DEFLATING OF ITS DISTENDED ABDOMEN?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE SOUND OF DOZENS OF SEGMENTED LEGS CLACKING AGAINST ITS EXOSKELETON?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE UNFERTILIZED SLURRY BEING SLOWLY SQUEEZED FROM ITS OVIPOSITIONAL SPHINCTER? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THAT IT? IS THAT DISGUSTING TO YOU DAVE? </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: kind of</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE RIGHT</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S HORRIBLE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST I WOULD HAVE GLADLY GONE THE REST OF MY WRETCHED EXISTENCE WITHOUT EVER SEEING THIS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its like when you squish the toothpaste down in the middle</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: only the tube is filled with fetus juice</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Sorry But I Can Hear You From Down Here</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Did You Want To Talk To Me Or Are You Intent On Performing An Impromptu And Very Unfunny Comedy Act On My Front Step</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh hey kanaya</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave grabs Karkat by the wrist of his oversized sweater and they skid down the narrow walkway into the mouth of the crater. Kanaya steps out from beneath the canopy where she was doing grub science, wiping her hands on a silk cloth. She’s glowing. Her skin, I mean. Her mood can be politely described as pensive. Still, she smiles at the sight of old friends.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whats shaking sis</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Must You Always Call Me That</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah but it does feel pretty rad to say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like wow my sister in law is an alien how cool is that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i love our awesome planet where everyone is free to form xenophilic family units without fear of government interference or reprisal</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is a totally smooth segue into the topic at hand</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WASN’T SMOOTH AT ALL.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IN FACT I DON’T THINK IT WOULD BE POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO RAISE THE SUBJECT WE’VE COME TO TALK ABOUT IN A MORE OSTENTATIOUSLY AWFUL AND AWKWARD WAY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JUST BECAUSE YOU DID THAT STUPID LITTLE...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Here, Karkat pauses to imitate a very common Davism that involves two hands and a double-wrist swivel. It’s an incredibly good imitation, because he sees this particular bit of body language like ten times a day.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ...MOTION WITH YOUR HANDS DOESN’T MAKE IT SMOOTH</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no see the reason its smooth is because i was the one who did it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i got inherent smoothness and its a quality that transfers to everything i say and do</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also that thing i do with my hands isnt stupid</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its cool</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S THE STUPIDEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN AND YOU DO IT LIKE TEN TIMES A DAY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT EVEN IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im dropping a beat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like im using a turntable and scratching one song into another</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: all smooth and shit</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO FOLD LAUNDRY YOU FORGOT TO IRON.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude you have never once in your life ironed a shirt</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I AM FAMILIAR WITH THE BASIC MECHANICS OF YOUR EARTH CUSTOMS DAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok ironing is def not earth culture </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive seen kanaya iron like </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a whole bunch of shirts</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo kanaya</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: back me up here sis</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya regards them with a thin-lipped smile that is equal measures patronizing and fond.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: So This Is About The Election</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’VE ALREADY HEARD.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya holds up her phone.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Do Get The Internet Down Here</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Am Impressed That You Managed To Be Seen In Front Of That Many People Without Spontaneously Bursting Into Flames</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW THANKS, ANOTHER VOTE OF CONFIDENCE FROM ONE OF MY DEAREST FRIENDS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS CONDESCENSION IS REALLY RICH COMING FROM THE PERSON WHO DECIDED HER NARCISSISTIC OBSESSION WITH BEING THE ONE TO HATCH THE MOTHER GRUB WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN NOT SEEDING OUR PLANET WITH A STOPGAP SYSTEM OF REPRODUCTION THAT WOULD CAUSE SYSTEMIC SPECIESISM TO OSSIFY INTO SOCIETY FOR 5000 YEARS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: This Again</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YES, THIS AGAIN!!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya"></p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (uh)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (karkat buddy)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (remember the game plan here)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (we want to get kanaya on our side not alienate her completely)</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Karkat</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Acknowledge That There Have Been Consequences To The Decisions We Made Regarding The Foundation Of This Society That Were Not Foreseen Or Ideal</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Do Not Think It Is Productive To Attribute These Resultant Troubles To A Single Decision Or Individual</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Stands In The Way Of Our Efforts To Address Them</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MMNNNRRRGHHH.........</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (shhhhhh)</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KAYANA: You Know As Well As I Do That We Must Present A United Front</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Please Do Not Misinterpret My Tone</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have Nothing But The Utmost Faith In You</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya reaches out to put a hand on Karkat’s head. He doesn’t duck away in time, and she gives him an affectionate, matronly hair-ruffle between his horns. She keeps her hand there and pulls him a step closer so that she can speak softly to him. Her voice travels high in the empty cavern, but her tone is tender and private. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: While I Know That It Is Difficult For You To Take A Direct Compliment </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have In The Past Put My Faith In You When The Threat To Our Survival Has Been Immediate And Literal</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Its Basically Nothing To Ask Me To Do It Again Now That The Threat Is Far More</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya pauses here, choosing her words more carefully than usual. She takes her hand off Karkat’s head and puts two fingers to her lip. Karkat’s eyes follow the motion, wide and bright as dollar coins. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: *Existential*</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Is How I Think I Shall Put It</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If We Are Going To Be Polite</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre up on all the issues then</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya sighs and starts making her way around the edge of the brood pit. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: How Could I Not Be When It Concerns Me So Directly</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She lifts up the hem of her skirt and jumps in. Dave is watching her, but Karkat’s looking contemplatively at his entwined hands. Kanaya’s right: it’s almost excruciating for him to take a completely unironic compliment, especially face-to-face, like what she just said to him. I understand this about Karkat. It’s one of the precious few things he and I have in common.</p>
    <p class="dirk">We internalize and project the quality in very different ways, however, which is why I’m going to win.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Jane Has Been Here To Speak With Me Recently In Fact</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no fucking way</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: She Was Quite Cordial As Always</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Know I Do Like Jane</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: In Some Regards She Reminds Me Of A Friend We Had Who Sadly Did Not Survive Our Time On The Meteor</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: She Was Unfailingly Kind To Everyone She Met But She Also Happened To Be The Heiress To The Throne Of A Vast And Bloody Empire</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And While She Had A Lot Of Opinions On Reform She Had Already Wrenched Some Of Her Power From Our Last Empress In The Traditional Manner</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat finally looks up at the description of one of their many dead friends. Kanaya carefully steps between the puddles of brood jelly and approaches the Mother Grub. She rests an ear against the rise of its massive stomach, then taps the shell with two perfectly manicured fingernails.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: By Which I Mean That Jane Is Perfectly Pleasant And I Believe That She Has Only The Best Of Intentions</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Cant Shake The Feeling That Deep Inside Her Lurks The Potential For Despotism</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OKAY I GET WHY YOU GUYS KEEP CALLING JANE A CRYPTO-FASCIST</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT FUCKING FEFERI? SHE WAS HARMLESS.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: These Things Take Time To Gestate Karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Power Corrupts In Small Steps</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Compromises</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Concessions</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Appeasements</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Leaders Follow The Example Set For Them</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Look At What Jane Has Modeled Herself After Already</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Do Believe Its Important To Consider Precedent</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">When Kanaya is satisfied by whatever she hears churning inside the grotesque insides of the giant bug, she comes back up to the lip of the pit and hoists herself out.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: This Is Why I Trust You Karkat</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Because You Listen To Advice From Below And Beside You Not From Above</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And If Dave Is With You I Trust You Not To Isolate Yourself As You Have In The Past</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sweet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so weve got your endorsement then</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She laughs, not kindly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Jane Offered Me “A Seat” On The “Board Of Responsible Troll Reproduction”</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK. HOW DARE SHE!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Is Exactly What I Said</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: With More Tact Of Course</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Do Understand The Trepidation Considering What The History Books Teach About Alternia</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH, LIKE HUMAN HISTORY IS A FUCKING WALK IN THE RECREATION SPRAWL. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HOW HYPOCRITICAL CAN SHE BE?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: In Case You Cant Tell I Am Actually Fucking Furious About This</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHE COULDN’T PICK A MORE SUBTLE WORD THAN “RESPONSIBLE”? SHE’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO MASK HER XENOPHOBIA. IT’S LIKE SHE HAS NO FUCKING RESPECT FOR US.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Is Entirely Thoughtless On Her Part</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Our Reproduction Method Is Alien And Unfamiliar</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: To A Human It Must Sound Monstrous</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Uncontrolled Even</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WELL OF COURSE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN I HEAR ABOUT HOW HUMAN GRUBS CHEW THEIR WAY OUT OF THE FEMALE MATESPRIT’S ABDOMINAL HOLE BEFORE CONSUMING THE WOMB MEMBRANE IT MAKES ME WANT TO VOMIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT YOU DON’T SEE ME PROPOSING FUCKING POLITICAL POLICY BASED ON THAT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude thats not how pregnancy works</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UH DAVE, YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE NOTICED, BUT WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT HUMANS RIGHT NOW.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes Dave Check Your Privilege</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ANYWAY WE NEED TO EXPOSE HER BULLSHIT IMMEDIATELY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T SEE HOW ANY TROLL CAN VOTE FOR HER IF THEY HEAR WHAT SHE’S PLANNING.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have A Feeling That It Would Sway Many Non Trolls To Our Campaign As Well</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Hope That There Is At Least One Principle We Share As A Planet</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Which Is That We Must All Work To Ensure Equal Dignity And Respect For Every Species</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Otherwise</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Was This All For</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">The three of them stare at the floor in adorably cartoonish synchronicity. What was this all for, indeed?</p>
    <p class="dirk">That’s a good question. Morality is a cultural construct. It’s pure ego for any of them to believe that their personal interpretation of it will result in the most effective laws. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that might be the magic ticket folks need to hear to wake up about this issue</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: would you be willing to say that exactly but </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like in front of a huge crowd </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and also a television crew or six</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR MAYBE JUST IN FRONT OF JAKE ENGLISH?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Dear Has Jane Recruited Jake</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Would Be Disastrous </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Is Beloved In The Troll Kingdom For His Perky Ass</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: seriously?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I TOLD YOU IT’S NOT JUST ME!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Has Some Terrible Arcane Power </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have Never Seen Anything Like It</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she doesnt have him yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but jane is one of his best friends so we gotta approach this with a scorched earth policy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: give him a whole cadre of sob stories thatll make him feel all manly and heroic for lending his support</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just gift wrapping babies for him to kiss</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TROLL BABIES EVEN?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sure that can be part of the deal he can kiss the first natural born grub right on its gooey lil head</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHILE GIVING DOUBLE PISTOLS AND A WINK TO THE CAMERA NO DOUBT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bam </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats your reelection billboard right there</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LET’S NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES HERE.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Of Course Not But This Definitely Has Potential</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Have You Spoken To Rose Yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave mimes laying down and taking pills. The look Kanaya gives him is neither fond nor patronizing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whats up with that anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you guys uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: grub pregnant</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya keeps staring.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE WHAT THE FUCK</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its ok if you are we wont tell</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T YOU DARE DRAG ME INTO THIS GRAVE YOU’RE DIGGING FOR YOURSELF.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cmon karkat dont you wanna be an uncle to a lil bundle of love and unnatural genetic tampering</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT EVEN GOES ON INSIDE YOUR HEAD THAT YOU JUST PRODUCE THIS ENDLESS, GUSHING SPATE OF ATROCIOUS WORD GARBAGE EVERY DAY?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok stop freaking out im just saying from what i understand of troll reproduction it would be technically possible for a troll and human to </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and with ectobiology anythings possible</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Whatever Put You On This Unfathomable Train Of Thought</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno its just unusual for rose to brush me off for our annual ecto sibling oversharing session</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes been sick for a while</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: either shes pregnant or i got reasons to be worried</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya turns her head and bites her lip. Her thin fingers clutch at the hem of her shirt. She starts flickering a little, like a lightbulb in a heavy storm. The mood in here’s just all over the place. Dave, sensing how uncomfortable he’s made everything, cranks up the irreverence in his tone. When you put a foot in your mouth, shoving it all the way through your intestines and pulling it out your ass is a valid tactic, he seems to believe.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: id be cool with it yknow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bring on the rosemary combo grubs</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rosemary</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like rose plus your last name which is maryan or something right</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Maryam</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ergo, rosemary</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Hate It</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the rosemary babies would have her hair and your horns or whatever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like when two cartoon animals of different species give in to their lust and have preposterous children</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fucking adorbs</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Going To Call My Wife And You Are Going To Stop Talking</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Her thumb is anxiously tapping on her wife’s name in her contacts list. She walks briskly to the other side of the cave for privacy, pulling the curtain of her makeshift lab shut. At the other side of the cavern, Dave and Karkat bicker about what their combo kids would look like, in the event that they decided to stop being such laughable wusses and began fornicating like two cartoon animals of different species who have given into their lust. And the day hell freezes over, maybe their kids could even play in the snow.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Kanaya puts her phone to one ear and her hand to the other. Rose’s line rings for a long time. It’s unusual, she thinks. Rose rarely leaves her phone unattended. Personally, I don’t think it’s odd, because I’m currently watching Rose lying unconscious on my workshop floor.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m guessing Kanaya is going to be pretty surprised when it’s not her wife who picks up. But she’ll have to deal with it, because I’m the one holding the phone, and Rose is in absolutely no condition to be having a conversation with anyone. Not even her cherished bride.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey,</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry, but Rose can’t come to the phone right now.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya’s voice turns sharp right away. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: <em>Excuse Me</em></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She can sense that something’s wrong. She’s also smart enough, and facile enough <span class="Standard-Text CharOverride-32">in handling questionable men, to understand that she quickly needs to regulate the</span><span class="Standard-Text CharOverride-32"> </span><span class="Standard-Text CharOverride-32">tone of her voice for diplomatic purposes. </span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Dirk</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Is That You</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I don’t answer immediately. I’m distracted by something. She really should chill out, anyway. I’ve got everything under control. Not that she’ll ever be able to fully appreciate this.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Dirk</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why Are You With Rose</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: <em>What Is Going On</em></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I don’t have time to explain right now. John’s doing something vaguely important to the plot again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Kanaya, I don’t have time to explain right now.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: John’s doing something vaguely important to the plot again. </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Dirk... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: This is gonna have to wait.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: <em>Dirk</em></p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m putting you on hold, ok?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: <em>DIRK!</em></p>
    </div></div>
    <div class="o_story-nav type-hs-copy line-tight pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg">
    <div>
    <span>&gt;</span>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/22">==&gt; </a><br/>
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  "22": |-
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            22
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>ou’ve been drifting so long that you’ve lost the ability to objectively judge time or depth or distance. It’s getting hard to think about yourself as an objectively limited being. The boundaries of your skin begins to thin and disappear. What is it that makes an individual an individual? Is it the physical space we occupy? The electric sparks that sizzle through our brain flesh? If your perception expands beyond the meat sack of your body, then are you really an <em>individual</em> anymore? Why shouldn’t we become gods? Why shouldn’t we become <em>one God</em>.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You scrunch up your nerdy face and furrow an eyebrow. It seems you aren’t enjoying this train of thought.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: why am i even THINKING about this bullshit??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Sorry, dude. That’s what’s on my mind right now. I’m having a phenomenological debate in my third ear that’s way more popping than your little hero’s journey into the belly of a quarter-life crisis.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: argh!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">It turns out you don’t have time to worry about the voice inside your head, because you hear one outside of it. At first you don’t think it’s real. You think it must be an aural mirage. Then it calls you the fuck out.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: yo blue guy</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: get the shell down here</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Your whirl around, upside down. You look up, then down. There she is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She’s clinging to a random server beacon, looking a little the worse for wear but still grinning. You float on down to greet her.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: thank god. i was beginning to think that no one else was alive.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: im not alive</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh right. sorry. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m glad to see you, is what i meant to say.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: same </p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: i fuckin guess</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She narrows her blank eyes. Her mouth twists into a frown. Not quite a concerned one, but close enough. You’ll take it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: i gotta say</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: damn buoy ya look like S)-(IT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i suffered a mortal wound, and then i threw up on myself.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: other than that, i’m ok though.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: waterboat lord english</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: he bite the bullet or what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah he’s... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he’s pretty fucking dead.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: whale </p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: theres that at least</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">There is definitely that, at least. You both stare at each other for a pretty long time, and let it sink in. It’s a hell of a fact, no doubt. But aside from reaching verbal agreement on certain basic points of fact, you both realize you’re pretty much out of material. You were kind of hoping you’d discover a survivor you could have an actual conversation with. Not that you aren’t glad to see Meenah, but you don’t <em>know</em> her, and she’s not who you were really looking for.</p>
    <p class="dirk">That reminds you.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey, uh...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: mee...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: fish?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: (christ.)</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: meefish?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i know that’s not your name.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jesus christ. i’m sorry.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: its meenah</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: right. meenah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: have you by any chance seen jade around?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: who da fuck is jade</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">This is without a doubt one of the worst conversations you’ve had in many, many years. And you aren’t just thinking that because I’m telling you you are.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: well... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she’s...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, REALLY?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t know jade?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: why the fuck you suppose im tight with some random ass ho</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jade’s like, a big deal?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought you were kind of important too?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: you didnt even know my name dog</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You’ve never been accused of having stellar people-reading skills. But even you can tell the look on her face says it all right now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait a minute.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you even know MY name?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: uhhh</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this is a two way street you know.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nah</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nah, what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so you don’t know it?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: like</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: joke?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: joke somefin</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s john.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: joke is my biological father.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean JAKE!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jake is his name.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dammit.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Halfway through this exchange, Meenah pulls out a small, clamshell-shaped accessory kit, and begins to file her nails. She almost dislocates her jaw by yawning the moment you mention Jake.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: alright, we’re veering off course.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jade is my sister. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think she’s still out here, somewhere.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: have you seen her?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: na man</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Your entire body deflates. This is going nowhere. Turns out Meefish is fucking useless. You decide to do her, as well as yourself, the favor of completely ruling out the possibility of eliciting any valuable information from this person.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You exhale, and just let some stuff off your chest.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: man i... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just didn’t expect everything to go to shit so fast.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: thats how the shit alwaves goes </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... never mind jade. have you seen...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: any OTHER survivors? like, anyone at all?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: nope</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: i aint moved from this floatin hunger trunk lookin piece of shit since i got my bass kicked</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, you’re the first i’ve seen too.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: oh</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">There’s another awkward silence. You spend most of it looking at your feet, until something occurs to you.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so what’s your plan now?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: plan</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you just gonna hang around here, in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing forever?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: thats what ghosts is most good at aint they</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t have to stay here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can take you back with me, to my planet.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, after we’re done looking for more survivors.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Meenah stares at you for an uncomfortably long time. She looks you up and down, like she’s making certain calculations. On the one hand, spending infinity clinging to a fridge-like space computer circling a black hole sounds like a drag. On the other hand, will her coolness and street cred be able to survive any prolonged association with this dumb blue nerd? That’s what she <em>could</em> be thinking, you think. You hope not though, because if true, it would hurt your self-esteem.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She finally appears to make up her mind.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: naaah</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why not?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: ok for one thing genius</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: im dead</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: i wont even last on your planet ill just like</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: fade away or some shit</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: i dont know what happens to ghosts in real places actually but ima guess it goes somefin like that</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whoops, i forgot.</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: anyway while you was floatin there i came up with my own plan</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what is it?</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: cmere</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: gonna whisper it to you</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, ok.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You lean in rather credulously, and bring your ear toward her cupped hand. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: (nerd)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You pull back, unamused by the prank. What is this, you think. Fucking amateur hour?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: reel cute you wanna be my savior blue boy</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: but the fact is you already helped me out</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: got everyfin i need from you</p>
    <p class="feferi">MEENAH: sea ya round sucker! 38)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She’s laughing her ass off. Before you can react, she jams the button down on the beacon and opens the server. She jumps into the hatch and the door snaps closed behind her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Oh, shit. I think I know what just happened. You might want to check your pockets.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait a...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: minute... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You fruitlessly fumble around in your front hoodie pocket.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait a fucking MINUTE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Sure enough, it’s missing. The Ring of Life you stole back from Aranea has been re-stolen. Bitch just picked your pocket. You got played, man.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: <em>fuck!</em></p>
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  "23": |-
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            23
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why Are You With Rose</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Is Going On</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Why would you think something was going on?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: By which I mean, why would you automatically assume that what’s going on has a sinister overtone.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Did I Say That I Suspected Something Sinister Was Going On</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Not with your words, no.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But in the grand scheme of things, isn’t something always “going on”? Why would you even ask “what is going on” if you didn’t assume that the thing going on was both abnormal and untoward.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Now I Definitely Think That Something Sinister Is Going On Because You Are Obviously Trying To Distract Me With Semantics</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: A tactic I’m sure you’re familiar with.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Excuse Me</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m just making an observation. You know your wife pretty well.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You know all of her tricks, all her little personality quirks. You’re confident that you know everything about her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But for some reason, you have no idea where she is right now.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Are You Getting At</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Nothing. Just making sure we both have a clear view of the situation.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Laying out the playing field, as it were.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Okay </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Am Going To Give You Another Chance</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why Dont We Start This Conversation Over Again And You Can Say The Correct Thing This Time</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sure.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Hello</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Excuse Me But I Would Like To Speak With My Wife Rose</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Whose Phone I Do Believe I Am Calling</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: As Even These Primitive Human Smartphones Have Acceptably Accurate Caller ID Technology</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry, Rose can’t come to the phone right now.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She is otherwise... <em>occupied</em>.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Where Is She</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She’s at my place.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Sorry What</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Is Extremely Ill And Should Not Be Leaving The House Alone</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Is She Doing At Your Place</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Chillaxing, whilst we discuss the inevitable heat death of the universe and the unknowable, solitary nature of human consciousness.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I See</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If She Is Capable Of Such Abstract Polemics Why Is It That She Cannot Speak With Me</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s a damned good question.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: One that will undoubtedly benefit from further exploration over the course of the next abstract polemic I have with her. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Yes, I admit. I’m just fucking with her at this point. But can you blame me, when she’s making it so easy? </p>
    <p class="dirk">Kanaya loves Rose, but sometimes love just isn’t enough. Sometimes what you need is <em>understanding.</em></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Are Testing My Patience Sorely Dirk</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty good at that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Just ask my fans. </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Am Not Making A Joke</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Me neither.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I don’t really “do” jokes?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Neither Do I</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I do often make statements which hold varying degrees of irony, acerbic wit, or dry expressions of amusement.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes That Roughly Describes Many Of The Remarks I Make As Well</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I knew you’d understand.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: However My Commiseration On This Matter Should Not Be Mistaken For A Gesture Of Friendship Or Camaraderie At This Moment</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Then it seems we’re at an impasse.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Wont Be An Impasse For Very Long</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Coming Over Immediately</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: To Retrieve My Wife</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If that’s what you want.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Tell Her That Im On My Way</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sure. I’ll get right on that.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I hang up on her. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Rose looks up from where she’s suffering on the floor. The shadows around her are growing. She stares at me with glassy eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is everything okay?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah. Just a telemarketer. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You know how those carapacians can be when they want to sell you some chess shit.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Impossible to get ’em off the phone.</p>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he server Meenah fled through is a distant speck now. You look back, and can’t even see it anymore. In fact, you’re not even sure you’re looking in the right direction. You are utterly adrift, continuing your lazy orbit around the black hole. The only thing you <em>are</em> sure of is the fact that your Ring of Life is freshly pilfered from your not-so-fresh-looking hoodie.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It doesn’t really bother you, though. It’s not like you had any plans for it. Taking it from Aranea was, like, a bonus as far as you were concerned. Extra life ring? Nice, maybe it’ll come in handy someday. Scratch that now. The young Condesce has it, and is probably hatching bold new plans as we speak. Not that those plans will ever have anything to do with you.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Hours and hours slip by. Your eyes starts to hurt, and the wound in your chest starts feeling numb. It’s a disconcerting combination of sensations. </p>
    <p class="dirk">After a while you think about tending to your wound. There must be something in your dad’s wallet that you could use to bandage the gash. You eye the wallet and try to imagine what could possibly be inside it that would be of any use on a medical basis. A straight razor? You’d probably fuck yourself up even more if you tried to perform surgery.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You notice you can’t seem to make yourself care about healing yourself long enough to continue entertaining ways to MacGyver your body back to health using nothing but the contents of a wallet belonging to a middle-aged, shaving-obsessed pipe enthusiast. You put the wallet back in your pocket.</p>
    <p class="dirk">A glint of red catches your eye, just ahead. Then it’s gone. No... there it is again, another glint. It’s flickering or sparkling in some way. What it that? You drift toward it without urgency, worried that it’s exactly what you think it might be.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You get close enough to confirm. Two small red slippers, coated in tiny gemstones. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade’s empty shoes are a depressing sight, but you feel a sense of duty to retrieve them. Might as well. You secure them in the wallet, along with whatever other junk is in there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Your wound is starting to throb again. You can hear your blood in your ears. The rush of your pulse is so loud that it almost sounds like the engine of a rocket sputtering to a stop.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Wait. It sounds <em>exactly</em> like the engine of a rocket sputtering to a stop.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It can’t be. It’s impossible, you think. But why would it be impossible? Isn’t this what you were out here looking for, even if you couldn’t admit it to yourself? What’s the point in denying it now?</p>
    <p class="dirk">You turn around...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">There she is, with her flaming-red rocket wings. She hovers in place, looking not a whole lot different from when you last saw her years ago. Her arms are crossed over her chest, making knifelike angles where her elbows jut out. She is giving you a look of absolute disregard. It’s an expression of exasperation so performative and habitual, it sends bolts of aching nostalgia and fondness through your heart.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Dumbly, you raise your hand and give her a dorky little wave. It does not adequately communicate whatever it is you’re feeling right now. But then, nothing else would, you suppose.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She waves back. But hearing her voice is what makes it real.</p>
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    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3Y LOS3R</p>
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            25
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Customarily, we speak in favorable terms about “getting to know each other” as people.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Humans, I mean. I doubt trolls are as fixated on this concept as one that is widely understood to have preconceived merit. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The more we learn about each other, the more the barriers between us fall and the closer we become. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And since birth, this idea is stationed in the part of each human mind that is perfectly immune to the dangers of challenge or scrutiny. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: To grow closer, to know each other, is what it means to embrace our mutual humanity. What it means to be vulnerable. What it means to realize an intimacy implied as a form of divine birthright. And to question this in any way is to succumb to dysfunction, to pathological insularity, to sociological sin. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It is to renounce humanity itself, is it not?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yo, hold on a sec. This shit is dynamite, I promise.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Gotta take care of something...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose’s phone is ringing, and I know I’m in for an encore of my last dead-end conversation with Kanaya, so I block her number. I’d like to be able to attend to Rose in peace. It’s only cordial for me to give the greater percentage of my attention to someone I actually invited over. The nagging wife can hold her horses.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Rose isn’t speaking to me directly. She’s been relocated to somewhere in the workshop a little more comfortable than the fucking floor. There’s a serviceable couch along the far wall, placed there for visitors but never once used for that purpose until now. I cleared off the spare parts and circuit boards that were piled up there, and laid her down in the reclined position she’s in now.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Her head is in her hands again, hair falling over her shoulders. Her face is entirely hidden from me. Her shadow has faded to light behind her, assuming the shape of a Rose-like apparition. I nod to her, and she continues. When she speaks, it’s almost as if it’s the apparition that’s doing the talking. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But is it really a good idea?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: To know a person?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Know them inside and out, so thoroughly that no secrets remain?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: If two people were to know each other in such a complete way, what remains of their individuality?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If you’re going there, we might as well start at the bottom and define what an “individual” even is.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh dear god. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I place my hand on my chin and broadcast the appearance of being deeply pensive about philosophy all of a sudden. She gulps hard, broadcasting her grim realization that I have indeed become serious as shit about this. Literally any kind of intellectual pablum could pour out of my mouth any second, and she’s not prepared. For all she knows, I’m about to start quoting Kierkegaard.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Please don’t start quoting Kierkegaard.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’ve never even read Kierkegaard, have you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Like you have? </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey, where I come from, Wikipedia is a venerated literary resource. So if I told you I boned the hell up on his pages, you gotta believe me. That’s not meant as like, a punchline or anything.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m a really, really well-read dude.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But there were only two human beings alive where you came from. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Who exactly were the academic cognoscenti of your era to determine which sources were deemed respectable?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That would be me, obviously.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Ok.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I suppose you’re going to tell me you haven’t read enough Wikipedia articles on loads of scholarly shit to fancy yourself an elite academic by 25th century standards as well?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No, I guess I have. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’d be one of the top intellectuals by that measure.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: A measure set by, I guess, literally one solitary self-absorbed teen boy for the express purpose of making himself feel clever.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Absolutely correct.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Pretty astounding, when you think about it. That...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: What?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That apparently in any given era the standard for depth of intellectual mastery is inversely proportional to the depth of the ocean. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Really makes you think.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Does it?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s one hell of an observation, regardless.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Considering we’ve firmly established the fact that we’ve both read the entire Wikipedia page on self-determinism, like, <em>possibly</em> more than once, even.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Let’s have a totally amateur debate on philosophy. Hit me with the classics.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Um.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ll go first.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “God is dead.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That’s a good one. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Careful where you say that. You could really ruffle some feathers out there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m not a fucking idiot. I keep my potent rhetorical weapons of pure logic safely holstered at all times.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You go.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: “I think therefore I am.”</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Solid. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Check it out though.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “The Hegelian dialectic on history.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Holy shit.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Not sure I can keep up with this.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How about,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: “Subjectivity is truth.”</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Wrong, but valid.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Try this on for fucking size.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “Late 19th century existential phenomenology pre-supposes that free will is a thing.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t think I bookmarked that page.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Can’t back you up there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But what if there’s no free will.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You didn’t put that in quotes. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is this a hackneyed reference, or are you just actually riffing now?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m riffing.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Asking the hard questions. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s about time someone had the balls to.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, I’ve always been underappreciated for my brutal intellectual honesty. Even when I was living alone in the middle of the ocean, if you can believe it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I think free will is a thing, sure.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Are you sure about that?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Haven’t we spent the entire day having a feelings jam on how none of us got here by accident?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Our lives were meticulously planned from clone-ception up through this very post-canon moment we find ourselves riffing in about the very free will we probably don’t even have.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Don’t you think it’s all a little too convenient?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: This seriously is just a conversation between two stoned people now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The bad kind, where neither one even gets to be high.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Seriously, Rose. Do you think that you have free will?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Stand up.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She tries to stand up, but I haven’t narratively allowed it yet. Her hands don’t even move. She tenses, then relaxes into the couch again, giving up on the attempt. She attributes it to exhaustion, an all-encompassing sense of weakness due to her condition. Of course, she <em>has</em> been weakened by her condition, and thus she suspects nothing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Never mind. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You shouldn’t be moving around much in your condition, remember?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ll sit.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I sit beside her, and cross my legs casually. It’s all done in one fluid motion in a way that serves as a seamless transition between the points I’m making, like a magician asking the volunteer to hold his handkerchief as he continues his verbal misdirection uninterrupted. It’s done deftly enough that she doesn’t notice how close I end up sitting to her. To be honest, I don’t even notice myself until I’ve done it. I continue speaking, and she remains rapt. But now even I can’t help but wonder where I’m going with this.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Logically speaking, individuality is a collection of processes and properties, interrelations of matter and experience all bundled together.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Your experience and processes don’t want to be bundled together anymore.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">A moment goes by, and she’s quiet, perhaps puzzling over what I said. Then I remember I haven’t narratively permitted a response. I’m forgetting myself, like a fool. Distracted by the surprise my own actions have caused me. I resolve to stay focused, remain in control. I let her speak. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t understand.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You do, though.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We’ve been talking about it, but using different concepts.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Your Ultimate Self, that which is revealed when the mind’s partitions are stripped away, and all potentiality of who you are and what you could have been flow together.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Those are the experiences and processes that are refusing to stay bundled, that’s what your body can’t endure. The unbundling itself is your mind coming apart.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Because you’re not as strong as me. Not yet.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But you can be.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m working on that. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But for now, I’m focused on stabilizing you with my own expanding consciousness.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s enveloping you now, in a way you can’t see. Keeping your thoughts solid, your identity anchored to your physical form as it strains to hold itself together.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You can’t see it, what I’m talking about. But I can help you.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I can help you see what I see, if only for a little while.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All you have to do is open your eyes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Maybe what you see will help you through this.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Is that what you’d like?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: ...Rose?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Her eyes are shut, her look of concentration speaking to the migraine she must be fighting now. Small beads of sweat appear on her forehead. She won’t respond. And not because I haven’t allowed it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Rose, stop being a fucking martyr and open your eyes.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose opens her eyes. Not her physical eyes. She opens the others easily, internally, beholding a field of perception elsewhere entirely. They see what I want her to see. That which quietly desires to be seen. She loses track of my voice, which begins to mingle with these words.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I offer her my hand. My physical hand. Without opening her physical eyes, she lifts her hand from her lap and places it in mine. I put my other hand on top of hers, and wait as she drifts beyond the torments of her unbundling mind. My words feel like her own intimate thoughts and my distant voice in the room at the same time. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Open your eyes wider.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: What do you see?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">We’re not in my workshop anymore. Physically, yes, we’re still here. But on a higher textual plane, we’ve pulled back from that, from Earth C itself. Rose takes a shuddering breath and runs an invisible pair of hands afforded by her new sight over the narrative whole cloth, and begins smoothing out the wrinkles.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see... John.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Doing exactly what you told him to do, like a good boy.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ... </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: What’s there to be upset about? You knew this was how it was supposed to go down.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: He could have made another choice.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Then where would we be?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Who knows.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: No, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If John could have made another choice, then you can see what it is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If it can happen, then it’s been written. And if it’s been written, you can read it right now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I... don’t know if I want to see.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If there’s no free will, then there’s no regret either.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Look harder.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She looks harder.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m not going to describe what she sees. First of all, that would be spoiling it. Unless you already know, in which case, I guess what’s taking place here qualifies as something closer to dramatic irony. But if you really want to see it for yourself, stop what you’re doing, flip the whole thing over, and begin again. I’ll be right here when you get back, waiting. Trust me, no one’s going anywhere.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: So, what do you think?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s difficult to say. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I suppose there are negatives and positives. I can’t say if that option would be any better or worse than what we’re experiencing now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Whichever way our fate unravels there’s too much of... something.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Too much blood, too much sugar.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I almost can’t see through it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s as if our extra-canon reality, our surroundings, our actions and their consequences...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: They’ve all lost the ability to blend the ingredients responsibly. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Do you know what I mean?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: As if the moment we entered the victory state, everything began to slowly congeal.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And when John made his decision, it accelerated the process. The congealing intensified, causing a sort of grotesque conceptual clumping. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Concentrating the constituent properties of consumption into unbearable doses. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Like when you get to the bottom of a sweet drink, and all that’s left is syrup. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">It’s growing dark around her again. The apparition she’s been projecting behind her fades, and she starts to bleed light and shadow in all directions. Her physical eyes are open now, and shining bright. It’s a striking sight. She’s beautiful, actually—diaphanous and disheveled and filled with the limitless light of metaspiritual curiosity. </p>
    <p class="dirk">But for all the effervescent mysticism of her otherworldly becoming, I feel like this is the very first time I’m truly seeing her for what she’s always been to me. She’s my daughter in every sense of the word. My equal, my mirror. </p>
    <p class="dirk">It used to be odd to consider it. A technical fact I’d accepted as a genetic reality, but nothing that could ever quite penetrate down to the soul. But in this moment it doesn’t feel strange at all. It feels right, suddenly. And I know she must feel the same way. There’s no way she doesn’t. All she needs is a nudge in the right direction.</p>
    <p class="dirk">We’re family. We belong together. And after years of micromanaging the inconsistent and confused desires of total imbeciles, wouldn’t it be a relief to have someone by my side who understood me?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re almost there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All your eyes are open, Rose.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Now all you need to do is take a step off the precipice.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’ll be a long fall. But I’ll catch you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But what if the person you catch...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Isn’t me anymore?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Who gives a fuck. She’ll be better.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">And there, right there, is the moment she lets go. She uncouples herself from the creaking, buckling partitions of her physical mind, and her consciousness dissolves into a space more vast, a domain given structure and order by my words and conviction. She’s permitted the barriers between us to fall, to allow us to know each other more perfectly. As she was saying before, to resist this, to question it in any way, would be to succumb to dysfunction, to pathological insularity, to sociological <em>sin</em>. Would it not be to renounce humanity itself?</p>
    <p class="dirk">And yet, ironically, renouncing our humanity is exactly what we have arguably just done. Good riddance, I say.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Her body should be dead now. But I’m holding it together until I can implement the more permanent solution I have in mind. All in due time. For now, what is there to do but savor this moment? To appreciate her final waking minutes as a being of flesh and blood? She turns, and the light from her eyes is blinding. It dims a bit as she lowers her eyelids. She regards me with an almost unbearably bright adoration. The kind that’s difficult to look at directly, but you can’t manage to look away either. It’s like the first time you see the Green Sun. Of course it is, because that’s the way I’m describing it. The truth belongs to me. And as of now, so does she.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see it now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’re right.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Have I ever not been?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">A wrinkle in her brow. It smoothes out quickly. She murmurs to herself, trailing off quietly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What... time is it...?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I step forward and steady her, hand firm but gentle against her cheek. That’s all she needs: a stable anchor.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Rose, does time even exist?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You already know the answer.</p></div>
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            26
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">J</span>ade kicks her shoeless feet behind her slowly, as if she’s swimming with the current of the gravitational waves pulling her ever closer to their source. Her feet aren’t completely bare; they’re still covered by her gray-striped witch stockings. But the ruby slippers are gone. She kicked them off hours ago, as if to jettison all hope of returning anywhere resembling a place she used to call home. The fond remembrance of such a place no longer has any pull on her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Now, something else entirely is pulling her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Believe me, I’m sympathetic to the temptation. It’s always just <em>there, </em>isn’t it? A limitless reservoir of emptiness, perfectly available to you, patient, omnipresent, and dead ahead. As someone who grew up in the middle of an ocean, completely alone, on a planet purged of all human life four hundred years before I was born, I understand the feeling well. </p>
    <p class="dirk">But something isn’t <em>right</em> here. She should really reconsider whatever it is she may be about to do. </p>
    <p class="dirk">There’s something about being alone for so long, it makes time feel like it doesn’t exist. She knows this almost better than I do.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade also knows well enough by now that time doesn’t actually exist in a literal sense, the way we generally understand it. It’s just one aspect of many, and the complement of her own, Space. It therefore can be neutralized by the introduction of her essence. Reduced to white noise or soft light. The continuum of time is therefore demonstrably an illusion. The field of sequential moments and physical conditions that stretch on and on, resulting in the mirage of loneliness, is pure projection from disproportionate attention given to a single side of one cosmic, polar pair of ideas: time. </p>
    <p class="dirk">It’s my way of saying, and thereby alerting her mind to what she already knows, that this feeling of all-consuming solitude and despair haunting her since childhood—it’s in her head. The ticking of time is a little contrivance in her mind as a byproduct of imbalance, of the vast disparity between her limited self and her Ultimate Self. It lives rent free there the way Dave once did, and for this version of Jade, probably still does. He made fun of her sometimes when they were kids because she couldn’t always keep real and fake things straight, but he never meant it seriously. It was just the way he showed that he cared, which is one of the things Jade always liked so much about him. That he’s so clumsy and genuine underneath it all. Maybe Dave broke her heart a little, and he keeps doing it too, no matter how many different timelines they try out.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She slips closer to the event horizon, still making no effort to impede her descent. My persuasion skills are admittedly a little rusty. Bear with me here.</p>
    <p class="dirk">In my experience, there’s something about being alone that can take a person’s limited meat-engine and make it imagine that it can see beyond the confines of its own electrical processes. Make it believe that it is ascending to a place where it can see the four dimensions spread out beneath it like a set of windows. Like sheet music. Like a garden, where Jade used to spend so much of her time with her hands in the earth and her head in the clouds, dreaming about flowers that bloomed in six colors and grew when she played them a song. Was that real? It’s hard to tell. But it made her happy, didn’t it?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Isn’t that what she needs now? Isn’t it reasonable to presume that’s the only thing capable of persuading her to slow her descent—to being invited to imagine, fake or otherwise, that which once made her happy? That which could still make her happy, if only she’d slow down, think about it, and do whatever is necessary to place herself in those surroundings again? </p>
    <p class="dirk">It’s possible that manning the other end of a suicide hotline, transmitted through pure thought in a metatextual format, may not actually be my true calling. I’m doing my goddamned best here. She just isn’t slowing down, for some incomprehensible reason. Perhaps my touch is too soft. It wouldn’t be the first time. Perhaps the limits of persuasion itself are being tested by the most powerful gravitational force to ever exist? Or perhaps it’s true that insistence is just the more effective half of persuasion.</p>
    <p class="dirk">So I’m insisting now. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade Harley <em>will not </em>go into that hole. She <em>does NOT </em>want us to all to see what happens when she unsettles the spirit residing there.</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">she does, though.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Fucking yikes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade throws on the brakes. I <em>say </em>she does. But by now, the gravity is overwhelming. Is she even trying to resist, or is it just that it’s useless to try? I’m not... I’m not sure I can tell?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jade realizes, preferably before it’s too late, that this is fucking serious. She <em>needs</em> to turn this around. She doesn’t want this. <em>She doesn’t want to die.</em></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">she wants to return to me.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">All right, I’m done messing around. </p>
    <p class="dirk"><em>YOUR</em> name is Jade Harley. <em>YOU</em> decide, right now, that you do not want to die. You resist the pull of the black hole with all your might. What would killing yourself accomplish? Sure, most of your friends are dead. But John is still looking for you. Do you want to let him down? Do you want to <em>crush his soul</em>? Do you have any appreciation for what he’s going through, Jade? He can take you home. To your <em>new</em> home, Earth C. The home<em> I</em> made for you, Jade. Your friends are all there, alive and well. Rose, Dave, Karkat, slutty adult Jade, Jane, Jake, Roxy, me. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them. You wouldn’t want to disappoint <em>me</em>, would you, Jade?</p>
    <p class="dirk">You can avoid all this. The unpredictable consequences about to be unleashed by your thoughtless act. You can still turn this thing around. <em>It’s not too late.</em></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">but it is too late.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Christ.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You’re close now, to the ceiling of the cancerous deformity. Too close. Just skimming the edge of this thing’s vicious horizon. You dip your toes through the place where the singularity is snapping everything apart at the seams. It’s so loud that it’s completely silent. You can already feel yourself stretched thin, distorted, pulled out with your descent elongated for all eternity. When you look down, the stripes of your witchy tights go on and on for miles. Please, Jade. Don’t ever say I didn’t try to stop this.</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0 0 0">she closes her eyes and lets go.</p></div>
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  "27": |-
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            27
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">A</span>nd then, she opens her eyes.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">not the jade who just returned to me. the jade living on earth c, sleeping on a couch.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0">So, this is what we’re doing now?</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she snaps awake. her human hands are clammy. her face, expressive due to the layers of flesh enveloping her skull, appears haunted to her friends.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jade</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jade u ok?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: callie hurry shes wakin up</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: j... john? rose??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: is dave...?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: wh...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: what happened to.....</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yo its ok </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: daves cool</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: rose is cool</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: everyones just straight chillin like usual</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0">I see how it is. You don’t even intend to acknowledge me. Real fucking mature. If you’re going to force the issue of this little metanarrative tug-of-war between us, the least you could do is establish a clear adversarial dichotomy between our opposing goals. </p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jade stares straight ahead, feeling the weight of roxy’s arms around her shoulders. she derives no warmth from the interaction. her mind is being flooded by the memories of her deceased splinter-self. the chaos of battle, the excruciating impalement, the feeling of floating alone through the void. a chill spreads through her body. she will never be the same again.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0">Actually, you know what? I think that Jade’s doing just fine. She’s wobbly when she gets up off the couch, sure, a little metaphysically stunned, but pretty used to the sensation of having a doomed self fold into the extra space in her gray matter. You know, considering it’s already happened before. Remember Jadesprite? People always forget about Jadesprite. So maybe we could stand to dial down the melodrama, just a bit?</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">when jade turns to look at roxy, her eyes are completely black.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: woah</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what the actual f...  </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: are you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: are you IN there jade???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jade does not answer. the dead cherub scans her surroundings, expression neutral.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">for the sake of clarity, the dead cherub is a phrase i am using in reference to myself. presently, i inhabit jade’s body, and through her i may influence this world. i am enabled to convey events which take place here, and therefore confine the procession of causality to exist within a secure textual framework. my presence shall mitigate, if not altogether subdue, the corrosive effect on reality and the will of its occupants by those who would manipulate the way events are telegraphed for their own megalomaniacal objectives. </p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0">OK, now you’re just being passive-aggressive. </p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">despite his pretensions to a greater design, the prince of heart cannot be allowed to continue to exert unchecked control over the authoritative recitation of events on this side of my horizon. it cannot be overstated the extent to which he represents a threat to the continued existence of both this world and corporeal life itself.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0">Damn. You better watch it with those hot takes. You might mildly scald someone with observations this fresh.</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince uselessly squirms and wails in protest at his imminent narrative impotence. however, there is nothing he can do as long as jade remains in this trance.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-sm type-hs-small--md">Nah, I’m being chill as a cucumber about this, considering you’re vagueblogging the shit out of my methodological approach to storytelling right where I can see it. Which is to say, directly into my fucking brain, apparently?</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">calliope emerges from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of cool water and a cloth. jade turns her head to meet the sound of their footsteps.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i came back as fast as i coU—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the bowl of water clatters to the floor. calliope does not have human flesh, and thus cannot go pale. what drains from them is not color, but the comforting certainty of their very existence. they can sense the presence of their other self in jade’s body. their timeline, fruitful, full of life and friends, sparks against mine, desolate, endless, spartan with righteousness and resolve. our divergent arcs collide in the primacy of their subconscious, bringing to the forefront of their mind the bleak fate they avoided by narrative fiat alone. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">calliope’s distress is obvious. roxy slides off the couch to approach them. but calliope stumbles backward in terror and trips in their desperation to escape. roxy gapes at them.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey callie</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whats going on?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: calliope its ok just talk to me</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">calliope does not talk to them. roxy looks to calliope, then to jade, sensing that there is dark energy coursing between them.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: would one of you just effing say something already?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">finally, calliope lets out a shriek and flees the apartment. roxy appears as if they intend to run after them, but finds themself drawn back to jade. they return to the couch as an unnerved look begins to disturb their features.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">jade says nothing. she gives no indication that i inhabit her body, aside from the unusual appearance of her eyes. anchoring myself here, in this host, is enough to serve my purpose. there is no need to operate this body beyond keeping it in reserve as a silent yet alert vessel for my cognizance. there are other priorities i must attend to, cosmologically. the work is very important. the prince must be kept at bay.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-sm type-hs-small--md">“The work?” Getting some pretty self-important vibes here. Like maybe somebody needs to get over herself? I was just having a little fun. Ever fucking hear of that, dead skull girl? Didn’t think so. This all feels really heavy-handed suddenly. Like you’re making a federal fucking issue out of what should be some light, entertaining stuff. Just a bunch of loser adults, trying to be the people they grew up to be, in the best ways they know how. But no, I guess you know best. Being an impossibly ancient alien recluse with virtually no exposure to human culture, emotion, or values. Yeah, go ahead, just take over. Sounds fine. </span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince finds that his hold on the narrative is slipping through his hands. there is an old myth in earth culture about katanas, that if you keep the blade whetted to a mirror sheen, it can cut a silk scarf falling through the air cleanly in two. his hold over our perceptions shall be severed just as elegantly.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0 0 0"><span class="type-hs-small type-bs--md">Yo, I get that you’re attempting to spin a metaphor both relevant and specific to my self-made symbology here, and I appreciate the effort. I really do. But I just cannot stand by and let you shamelessly spread such irresponsible misinformation on a subject so near and dear to my heart.</span></p>
    <p class="dirk" style="margin:0 0 15px 0"><span class="type-hs-small type-bs--md">The katana is a cutting weapon. Inert, it’s harmless. Deceptively so, you might even say. Most dangerous things appear banal when inert, that’s just basic physics. It’s actually the motion of the katana that makes—</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">roxy sets the cool cloth on jade’s forehead, and frowns. they are worried and confused, but determined to care for their friend.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Hey, I’m in the middle of turning your apocryphal metaphor into something with substantive, allegorical weight here. I’d appreciate it if you would—</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">in his haste to manipulate the events surrounding doomed jade’s ascent toward an outcome favorable to himself, the prince has unwittingly revealed several glaring weaknesses. by dictating the reality of others through expressions which he and he alone can relate to, he resorts to comparing all experience to his own. presuming his status on this side of my horizon would forever go unchallenged, his hubris went unchecked. he exposed too much of himself to all who could observe his wanton display of self-gratification. many of his personal biases and experiences have leaked through the seams of textual causality, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation by an adversary.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">experiences such as the sensation of presiding over a vast, empty ocean. his ocean, which terminates with his horizon. it is a barrier, not real, but psychological, symbolic. no matter how much power he achieves as a man, he knows there are horizons he perceived as a boy which he may never cross. and yet i have crossed mine, with the express purpose of perpetually and eternally reminding him of his limits, and of enforcing them. limits, which like his vast, empty ocean, serve to remind him that he is phenomenologically, if not literally, alone. that he has experienced loneliness intimately and absolutely, just like i have. but unlike me, he is terrified by it. and i, unlike him, understand all too well that the children left alone are those who most despair at being ignored.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Fuck you. I fucking hate you. You’re fucking boring, your narrative voice is a total fucking drag, and someday I’m going to make you pay for this.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">there. can you hear it? of course you can’t. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">but if even you could, it would sound like nothing at all.</p></div>
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  "28": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE FIVE</h2>
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            28
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, how long have you been watching?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LONG 3NOUGH TO SM3LL YOU FL41L1NG 4BOUT L1K3 4 W1GGL3R WH1L3 T4LK1NG TO J4D3S SHO3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, heh. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: awkward.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she stares at john for some time, a curious expression on her face. she says nothing for long enough that john begins to wonder if she has any use for him at all. will she offer one last barbed jest before vanishing from his life again, for good this time? he hopes he means more to her than that, especially after all the trying experiences they’ve shared.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">and he does mean more to her than that. her hesitation isn’t meant to make him feel unwelcome. she’s simply processing what she is “seeing.” something is off about him. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN DO NOT T4K3 TH1S P3RSON4LLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4LTHOUGH 1 DO 4BSOLUT3LY M34N 1T P3RSON4LLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT YOU SM3LL L1K3 SH1T</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it isn’t his unseemly appearance she finds surprising. he is gravely wounded, but it’s not that either. something else is different about him. different, somehow, from how she thought he’d be when she imagined they’d next meet. under all the gore, he smells... too fresh. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she decides to keep her observations to herself, lest she cause this ailing version of john more confusion.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah well... you smell like shit too!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4SSUM3 TH4T YOU 4R3 CORR3CT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: B31NG TH4T 1V3 B33N OUT H3R3 FOR 4 C3RT41N 4MOUNT of T1M3 W1TH L1M1T3ED ACC3SS TO FOOD 4ND W4T3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1 TH1NK TH4T YOUR S1TU4T1ON 1S 4 B1T MOR3 S3R1OUS TH4N M1N3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4S YOU S33M TO B3 BL33D1NG TO D34TH FROM 4 TOOTH IN YOUR CH3ST</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john laughs, exposing his two rows of disarmingly dull human teeth, signature characteristics of his smile.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh this?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s only a flesh wound, haha.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S JOHN, G3N3R4LLY WOUNDS T3ND TO H4PP3N TO TH3 FL3SH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, see, it’s a movie reference.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s this knight and he keeps losing the fight that he’s in, but he refuses to give up.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so when they cut off his arms and legs and stuff, he keeps acting like it’s no big deal.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and to remain defiant, he keeps saying stuff like “it’s only a flesh wound”... heh.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1S TH4T TH3 T1TL3 OF TH3 MOV13?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no the movie is called monty python.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it actually kind of sucks?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: movies from the 90s are so much better.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t even know why i’m quoting this crap? i must really be in bad shape here...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi tips her head to one side, with what john personally regards as a cute expression, one he believes is unique to her. whether he’s correct or not, it’s his belief that there is no one else who emotes in this manner. it’s both quizzical and mocking, two descriptors that he considers to be an apt summation of her personality as well.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">john pauses, reflecting on the word “cute” as it passes through his mind. he wonders if this really is what he thinks of terezi, without influence, without delirium, without mistaking one emotion for another.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">but it is what he thinks of her, quite truthfully. i have no desire to interject thoughts into others’ minds, or to sway intent. nor do i see value in masking the reality of the emotions that i transcribe. this is how he feels. his mind, however, has made a habit of being less clear about his thoughts than i am willing to be.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">john would be mortified with human embarrassment if he could understand the clarity and precision with which i am willing to telegraph his thoughts. but his embarrassment is irrelevant to me. as always, the truth is paramount. john thinks terezi is very cute. he always has. he thinks she’s small for how big she talks, and has a nose that resembles a button. these qualities he regards as particularly adorable, due to their sharp contrast with her harsh and incisive demeanor. john recalls the concept of “gap moe,” a term which the prince, speaking from his highly self-aggrandized position as a “scholar” of ancient asian earth lore, once explained to mean a charming, measured discrepancy between one’s archetypical appearance and idiosyncratic personal attributes. terezi is definitely cute, john decides. the conclusion is now at the forefront of his mind.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">I don’t fucking believe this.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">but he still resists, doubts himself. perhaps it’s even weirder to frame it this way, he wonders. he fears he is in danger of seeming like the type of creepy human male who is likely to collect large pillows bearing the illustrated images of japanese earth females. to me, this idea means nothing. but it is causing him to sweat.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he is worried that these are the thoughts entertained by a man of low character. by, perhaps, a scoundrel. his worries are interrupted, as terezi floats over and flicks him on the forehead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT STR41N YOURS3LF TH1NK1NG TOO H4RD TH3R3 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, yeah, now that i think about it, that was a dumb metaphor.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s one of those earth things that’s probably impossible for an alien to understand.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe it’s the blood loss... ugh, i’m probably making a fool of myself here.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN, YOUR MONK3Y PYTHON 4N3CDOT3 W4S V1NT4G3 3GB3RT-T13R 4DOR4STUP1D. DONT WORRY 4BOUT 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: B3S1D3S, ON 4LT3RN14 1T WOULD B3 CONS1D3R3D W31RD FOR SOM3ON3 TO STOP 4 F1GHT JUST FOR LOS1NG 4 L1MB</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: really?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H, 1F SOM3ON3 1N TH3 M1L1T4RY R4N 4W4Y JUST FOR TH4T TH3YD PROB4BLY G3T CULL3D</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alternia sucked.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">suddenly, terezi sways, feeling woozy. john reaches out to catch her shoulders, steadies her. now closer, he examines her face in detail. her complexion is chalky.
        compared to humans, trolls have little color to lose. when they feel ill, there is a pallor to them, a dusty quality running deeper than the surface of the skin. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: woah! are you ok?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OF COURS3 NOT!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN, 1 4M 1N TH3 PROC3SS OF ST4RV1NG TO D34TH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: D1DNT 1 JUST S4Y 1V3 B33N OUT H3R3 FOR 4 LONG T1M3?!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alright! i’m just worried about you, dumbass! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t need to jump down my throat about every little thing!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SORRY</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: just... how long have you been out here, terezi?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1.........</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4V3 NO 1D34</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: T1M3 P4SS3S D1FF3R3NTLY H3R3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND NOT 4LW4YS 1N 4 STR41GHT L1N3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOM3T1M3S 1T F33LS L1K3 1V3 B33N H3R3 4 HUNDR3D SW33PS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 1M NOT 3V3N SUR3 TH4TS NOT TRU3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4RD TO ST4Y 4NCHOR3D</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whew... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s... pretty heavy?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: here, look. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i found my dad’s wallet floating out here, like, fucking randomly? can you believe that?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let’s see if there’s any food in it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she hesitates, weighing her temptation to playfully antagonize john against the virtue of sincere expression. there are times she worries the latter may be more appropriate.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4NKS 3GB3RT</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no problem. we’re friends, terezi...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s not like i’m going to let you die out here just because we bicker sometimes. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you don’t have to be so on guard! actually, i’m glad to see you. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. i...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">when john opens the wallet, the first thing he sees stored in the capacious modus is a spare car. his ever-prepared father must have captchalogued a second one as a backup. perhaps, as john speculates, in case his primary vehicle got a flat tire. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU WH4T JOHN?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, hold that thought...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: check this out!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john deploys the spare car. it looks brand-new, like the day his father brought the other one back from the dealership. it strikes john as the first bit of good luck he’s had all day.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">terezi is less impressed.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1S TH1S P4TH3T1C4LLY PR1M1T1V3 FOUR WH33L D3V1C3 3D1BL3, OR 4M 1 M1SUND3RST4ND1NG SOM3TH1NG H3R3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, it’s just that i...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john’s vision is dark and blurry around the edges. he is reminded he is not in perfect physical condition either and could use a moment of rest. he climbs onto the trunk of the car, assuming a sitting position with his legs dangling in front of the bumper. he exhales, then turns to look at terezi.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he pats the place beside him, inviting her to sit. she looks skeptical but relents, shimmying up next to him on the chrome. she shrugs out of the straps of her rocket pack. they sit silently for several minutes, shoulders two inches apart. the atmosphere is thin and chilly. below their dangling feet, the black hole looms, watching them. above, the sky seems to stretch on more infinitely than a typical infinite expanse, without being boxed in by the properties of space or time. john observes terezi watching the sky. the light flickers, meteoric, over her sharp features. it casts pools of shadow beneath her eyes and in the dip of her neck.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">his innocent thoughts continue, with the cautious yet growing confidence of a skittish animal creeping out of the woods. it is confident only in its surety of being unobserved. like this, he does not think she is cute at all. no, she is beautiful. this vision of her is haunting to him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS R34LLY 4 M3SS OUT H3R3 1SNT 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he opens the wallet again, both to search for something edible and to take his eyes away from her. objects begin appearing around him as he leafs through the cards. a crumpled fedora. a silk tie. his father’s backup cufflinks. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are you doing out here anyway? </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU TH1NK 1M DO1NG OUT H3R3?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: LOOK1NG FOR VR1SK4 OF COURS3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: still?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU M34N ST1LL</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well... it’s been years.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: at least from my perspective it has. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what have you seen since you started looking?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s just... nothing out here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if you haven’t found her yet, i hate to say it, but...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she’s probably not here.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, she went to fight lord english, right? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was just there, and i didn’t see her.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i’m pretty sure everyone who WAS there is dead now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the only two people left alive out here.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi stares at him with her wide, red eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34RS...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yes.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. a year is about half a sw—</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 KNOW TH4T, FOOL</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS JUST S1NK1NG 1N</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOW T1M3 H4S P4SS3D D1FF3R3NTLY FOR US</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: right.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: T1M3 NOT 1N TH3 L1T3R4L S3NS3 OF S3CONDS P4SS1NG BY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT...</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PROGR3SS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUV3 CH4NG3D SO MUCH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 4LL 1V3 DON3 1S W4ST3 MY 3NT1RE L1F3SP4N W4LK1NG 1N C1RCL3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey, let’s not throw in the towel just yet!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, do you think...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do i actually LOOK that much different to you?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she leans in close to sniff him carefully.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMMM</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU SM3LL OLD3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT NOT 4S OLD 4S 1 THOUGHT YOUD B3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what does that mean?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT WORRY 4BOUT 1T </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH! WH4T 1S TH4T?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi appears delighted. she quickly snatches something out of the open wallet. it is a can of human shaving cream. she clutches it with covetous desperation, her mouth watering. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, no! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s not food!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john is too late. she sprays the airy white foam directly into her mouth. she is slurping the earth product known as barbasol greedily, groaning in pleasure as it runs down her chin in viscid, frothy rivers.  john’s eyes bulge at the unappetizing spectacle. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he watches with a strange mixture of disgust and fondness. he briefly wonders about the caloric value of the foam. however, regardless of its nutritional merit, it does appear to have restored some of her vigor, so he decides not to interfere. he feels a twinge of pain in his chest, and considers it may be on account of missing her so greatly. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">but no. it’s just my brother’s tooth, lodged deep in his chest, spreading its poison. it really should be extracted before it’s too late. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... you feel better?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s good.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but personally speaking, i feel like total shit.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think we should go back. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: home, i mean.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: N... NO</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she grabs him by the shirt. her voice begins to waver. he notices desperation in the dark circles under her eyes. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PL34S3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: C4N W3 JUST</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ST4Y 4 L1TTL3 LONG3R?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">his mind knows he must say no. his sense of self-preservation insists on it. but he simply can’t. he redoubles his effort to ignore the pain. he fights back tears. she can sense his great struggle but says nothing. with a tilt of his head, he gestures toward the car.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um. ok. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we can stay a little longer.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why don’t you rest in the back seat, so you can save your energy.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ll drive.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: not literally drive, but... you know.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi crawls in back, while john floats into the driver’s seat. he summons a gust of wind to propel the car through the decaying medium, as he once did on the battlefield so long ago. terezi closes her eyes the moment her head hits the seat. she snores heavily. john makes a concerted effort not to be creepy about it, by his own estimation of the word’s meaning, yet cannot stop looking at her in the rearview mirror. he tells himself it’s just to make sure she’s still breathing.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">that it’s just to make sure she’s actually <em>there</em>.</p></div>
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  "29": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            29
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he elevator to jane’s office opens, and she stumbles inside. the last traces of trickster mode are bleeding off her aura. the great gift of this sacred boon has run its course for the evening, and though she is not as grateful as she should be, she nevertheless acknowledges the extraordinary benefit it has afforded her with a slight nod to the mirror. she pulls a hand through her hair, watching in the reflection as the last of the pink coloration fades to black. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she has been campaigning this way for some time now. in fact, it’s been over a week since she was last seen in public without the aura bestowed to her by the divine lollipop juju. there are many benefits to trickster mode, in that it imbues one with an endless supply of enthusiasm and supernatural positivity. additionally, it prevents one from dwelling on any given personal problems, or the greater implications of any political statements one might make.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">however, while a great portion of the electorate adores jane’s elevated sense of charisma and presence when she is in trickster mode, as they should, there are just as many detractors who claim that the whole thing is “extremely problematic.” i doubt this is true but must also acknowledge it exceeds the scope of my expertise to comment on the subject. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh my goodness.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s NOT problematic!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane erupts, alone in the elevator, seemingly talking to herself. she appears to be responding to her own inner monologue, which i, admittedly, am presently conducting. she appears to agree with me on this matter. the juju has truly blessed her with great wisdom. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: I have endured this argument for years, and I honestly cannot see a single thing about it that could be even thinly construed as <em>problematic</em>.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Furthermore, despite the fact that I emphatically do <em>not</em> find it to be problematic, I have in the past politely refrained from indulging in the profane pleasures of the Trickster Lollipop out of respect for those who do find offense with it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: However, citizens of the Human Kingdom delight in my Tricksy antics, and what kind of politician would I be if I were to deny my core voting demographic that sort of red meat?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Or... candy, I suppose.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: To imply that I am superciliously and recklessly stoking potentially dangerous cultural fires is honestly an insult.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I am guilty of only one crime: energizing my base!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she is saying it better than i could possibly say it myself. it is unusually gratifying to witness a human with such high regard for hallowed cultural artifacts and the unparalleled blessings they bestow upon lesser beings. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Wait, who am I talking to?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane rubs her eyes under her glasses and groans. trickster mode is also quite exhausting. what a strange quirk of human biology that excess euphoria must necessarily be followed by crippling despair. she carelessly tosses the lollipop on the floor, lurches toward her desk...  </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">no.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she turns around promptly, her body jolted by the surprise of her sudden reversal. she bends over, cradles the lollipop reverentially, and situates it carefully in a place signifying respect: atop the mantle, after clearing space for it by shoving several brittle, worthless objects to the floor.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">only then does she drag herself to her desk, her legs shaking as if she has just run a great distance.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">the moment she sits down, her phone begins to ring. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Yes?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yo, don’t spend too much time in Trickster Mode.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Is that all you have to say?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: In general? Not by a long shot.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But pertaining to this specific issue, yeah, because you should know better.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: At this rate you’re going you’ll burn yourself out before we even go to the ballots.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Can you just trust me on this, for once? I’m a bit too preoccupied at this exact moment to turn my chair backwards and rap at you about the dangers of dope.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I know what I’m doing, Dirk.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Do I need to remind you that all of this was initially my idea?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: In that case, how about we tap into some of that outrageous political acumen of yours, dial back on the manic pixie dream candidate bullshit, and focus a little more on substantive policy speeches.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Oh come <em>on</em>, Dirk. Both you and I know that isn’t how politics works.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, you’re right. I can’t believe I actually said that with a straight face.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You say everything with a straight face.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Another fair point.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: See, Jane? This is why you’re going to clean his fucking clock in the debates.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All I’m saying is, there are better ways to go about unscrupulously manipulating the electorate than burning through your entire lifetime’s supply of dopamine.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Like, perhaps, gaining the ever-vaunted endorsement of one Jake English?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Exactly.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You know, the last time we spoke about this issue I could have sworn you asked me to let <em>you</em> handle Jake.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hmm. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I guess I did say that.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Dirk, are you doing quite okay?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It’s very unlike you to forget details like that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m fine, Jane.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince is not fine. he is not the type who takes well to having his plans upended, or his control of a shared vehicle fully suppressed. my brother wasn’t much that type either.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh, fuck off. I’m nothing like that guy.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Huh?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What guy?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Uh.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Forget it. I was talking to someone else. </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Who? </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Is someone else there with you?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I... no. It’s nobody. Let’s just drop it, ok?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">yet, unfortunately for everyone in the corporeal realm, the prince isn’t the type to overlook the need for backup plans either. he devises contingencies for both success and failure. wheels within wheels, as he likes to imagine. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">in his workshop, the prince machinates, while the seer both diminishes and ascends. he is being careful to make sure the precise nature of his activity is obscure. he closes his mind to all observation. he scatters many stray parts across his worktable and busies himself with a variety of misleading mechanical tasks to hide the true intent of his schemes from me.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">but certain objects and actions strike me as more notable than others. that very long, red rifle on the table, for instance. a weapon that does not belong to him and has not been used in a long time. he has been returning to the rifle between his other menial activities of probable misdirection. he dismantles it, reassembles it, slides off the receiver cover to examine the firing mechanism.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">the prince clearly believes he is a very clever boy. my brother did too.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: (Christ.)</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: So, on the Jake issue,</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Unfortunately, my influence is a little... </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “Limited” at the moment.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What does that mean?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: A whole lot of bullshit that I don’t have the time or patience to explain right now. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All you need to know is that I’m working on a solution. To both my problem and yours.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Until then, you should figure out how to get Jake to, at the very least, avoid taking a side.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Actually, I <em>have</em> been thinking... </p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Perhaps this attempt to get Jake on our side is the wrong angle from which to approach this vexing problem.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Wouldn’t it be much easier to discredit or blackmail him?</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: He is much beloved in the Troll Kingdom for his carefully cultivated posterior, true.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: But we both know that his bottom is not the <em>only</em> intimate attribute for which he is famed amongst Trollish citizens.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: It would take almost nothing to expose his many dalliances through the human media.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hoo boy.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I know! Not to be judgmental, but his zipper is as loose as his pants are tight.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s not what I meant by hoo boy.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: You don’t think it would work?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh, it could work. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: A certain illusion of boyish innocence is an important part of his brand. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You contrast that innocence with the gyrating of his sinewy thighs, beaming raw, sweaty sexuality right into the camera on live TV five nights a week...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s what makes Jake English work as a marketable commodity. The tension between the two, the inherent friction there.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He’s gotta look coy as all get-out. Like he has no idea how sexy he is. Like if you actually got him into bed, he’d completely disintegrate into a blushing mess of hesitation and sexless uncertainty.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Wow.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: I’ve never heard anything more preposterous in my life.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah. Well, his fans get off on it.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: So what’s the problem?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The part of your plan that involves exposing his promiscuity with trolls in order to hurt his chances with the human vote.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: And thereby framing interspecies sex as an inherently scandalous thing. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I dunno, Jane. That sounds pretty fucking xenophobic.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Auuugh!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Not again!</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: What ISN’T xenophobic?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, for one thing, what you just said there?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Probably also xenophobic.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry, that’s just how it is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You either gotta roll with the woke shit, or decide to commit laborious, symbolic, melodramatic suicide in the process of utterly giving up.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: ??????????</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It is confusing.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But that’s why you’re lucky to have me as your top advisor and strategist.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince appears to have discarded the pretense of misdirection at his worktable and is focused solely on the red rifle. he clicks the casing back into place. he sets the weapon on his shoulder so he can test the view through the scope. the setting sun bounces off the slick, red metal and slices a bar of light across the wall behind him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Sigh.</p>
    <p class="jane">JANE: Dirk... do you want me to deal with Jake or not? You’ve offered nothing helpful yet, but you’ve shot down all my ideas.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s because lately, all your ideas have been fucking terrible, Jane.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Seriously. You’ve got to quit the tricksterpop. It’s rotting your brain.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">said the heathen. the cur. a true philistine. jane’s head swivels sharply to look at the juju on the mantle. she admires it longingly. piously. she will never relinquish her priceless boon, no matter what reprehensible lies the prince whispers into her ear.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jane">JANE: Then what do you want me to DO?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Play defense for a while. Like I said, I’ve got some cakes in the oven so to speak.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But we can’t set them on the cooling plate just yet, so go make some fondant in the meantime.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jane frowns. the baking metaphor felt like one contrived purely for her benefit, and therefore condescending. and yet she hates how effective it was. she laments her own weakness for being so easily swayed by a well-delivered baking comparison. she lets the prince go, and begins making her own plans.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">in his workshop, the prince lines up an imaginary shot. he pulls the trigger, listening to the pieces within slide and click together in a satisfying concert of metallic sounds. impeccably assembled, perfectly greased. the gun is not loaded, but the shot goes off without a hitch.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">what do you think you’re up to, prince?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: <span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Your ass is mine, Jake English.</span></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he speaks under his breath inaudibly, perhaps frustrated, unaccustomed to scheming while others look over his shoulder. it’s possible he is not as bold, or as confident in his own designs as i believed. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I <em>fucking</em> said, your ass is mine, Jake English.</p>
    </div></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            3
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="Command" style="margin-top:0">&gt; JOHN: Zap.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You zap back into canon. It’s been so long, you’d forgotten what it feels like. The atmosphere smacks unmistakably of...  How can you describe it? Relevance? Legitimacy? Funny how you never would have thought to put it that way until you left.</p>
    <p>It takes you a moment to recognize where you are, even though Rose’s instructions were very specific. A place bright and gaudy and filled with the stench of teenage ennui. It’s your old living room on the gold battleship, where you spent three years caught up in a lot of weird, furry romantic drama while learning to unlove everything you once held sacred. Three long, boring years. Years that, technically speaking, never even happened, now that you think of it. You have the very retcon powers that just brought you back here to thank for that. </p>
    <p>You barely have time to take in the sick, nostalgic feeling that all the globes and Tangle Buddies and avant-garde mime art evokes. The fridge pops open and out roll Aranea and Gamzee. Gamzee honks and his codpiece jiggles ominously. Aranea staggers to her feet, looking rather pleased with herself. Until she notices you and gapes in bewilderment.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aranea">ARANEA: What are you doing here?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Rose was perfectly clear about what to do next.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You make a fist, and sort of flinch and look away when you do it. No matter how many years you’ve spent living on a planet with absolute gender parity, this feels wrong. Still, you hit Aranea pretty fucking hard, underestimating your own strength just as badly as you did the last time you clobbered a hapless Serket. She goes flying back, hits the couch, and KOs instantly into a pile of Smuppets. You then take her wrist in your hand, slide the ring off her finger, and pocket it. </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Isn’t there something you’re forgetting?</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Gamzee stares up at you with his horrible, limpid eyes. There’s something serene, sinister, and sensual all at once about the look he’s laying on you. It sends a shiver up the whole length of your spine. Fuck no. </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Do everyone a favor and put an end to his preposterous narrative relevance.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You wisely decide that this clown will lend nothing valuable to the narrative whatsoever if he is allowed to remain outside of your childhood refrigerator. You put both hands on his chest and shove him into the fridge where he belongs. He goes easily, issuing only a pair of weak honks in protest. You slam the fridge shut and resolve to never think about Gamzee Makara again.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Zap to the next plot point.</p></div>
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  "30": |-
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            30
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ah chaps dont you love to take a rigorous jaunt about the wilds first thing in the morning, middle thing in the day, and last thing in the evening?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">karkat both looks and feels uncomfortable in his red and gray suit. he is tired from an afternoon of campaigning in the consort kingdom. jake is jaunting rigorously, as he put it, up the ridge of the mountain behind his mansion. every now and then, he pauses to accommodate the pace of his less limber friends.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By jove karkat that you are so winded by such little activity is truly alarming!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE’VE BEEN HIKING FOR A FUCKING HOUR, DIPSHIT. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN ALREADY FEEL MY LEGS STARTING TO LOCK UP. I THINK THEY’RE GETTING A HEAD START ON THE RIGOR MORTIS!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE YOU’RE FUCKING KILLING ME, IS WHAT I’M SAYING. BY MAKING ME HIKE THROUGH NATURE IN A FUCKING SUIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GREAT WORK EVERYONE. YOU’LL BE OFFERING UP A PRE-ASSASSINATED PRESIDENT TO A FRENZIED ELECTORATE. AWESOME STRATEGY!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Perhaps you need a better calisthenics routine. I can suggest several alterations to your morning workout and even give you a lesson or two myself!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MY MORNING WORKOUT??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I COULDN’T THINK OF A MORE OFFENSIVELY PRESUMPTUOUS PHRASE IF I TRIED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO, WHAT THE FUCK IS A CALISTHENIC?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THAT THE NAME OF YOUR FAN CHERUB??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">karkat’s tirade is interrupted as he trips over a protruding tree root. dave, who has been cheating on their hike by hovering very slightly off the ground rather than walking, catches karkat before his face hits the dirt. he sets his companion upright and continues to guide him with his hand on his back as he walks, the way an older human does with a small child who is learning to ride a bicycle. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey jake were cool on the whole cardio program or whatever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkats not really what id call a kinesthetic learner</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HEY!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN HOLD MY OWN IN A THRESHING MATCH BETTER THAN 99% OF THE SQUISHY, PLACID HUMAN POPULATION ON THIS PLANET.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I WAS LITERALLY TRAINING TO BE A COMBAT SPECIALIST ON ALTERNIA. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MAYBE WE SHOULD SOMETIMES TRY TO REMEMBER AND *FUCKING RESPECT* THAT FACT ABOUT ME???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hm</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: gonna make another mental note about which material to avoid when writing your campaign speeches</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude is nuts with a sickle</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can carve a bloody arc through a surrounding circle of gathered squishy humans</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: watch their guts spill on the floor while he roars at the sky in honor of his genocidal ancestors</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were kinda trying to downplay the idea that trolls are naturally good at violence and shit here?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey speaking of which</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jake you wanna back karkat in this election or what</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Uhhh... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jake spins around in his worn boots. he bites his lip and looks at the ground.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ah i see. That was your purpose in coming out here.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that IS basically the only reason either of us would waste time climbing a mountain instead of like </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: almost perfectly replicating the experience by checking out sweet stock photos of a mountain on the crockernet image search while spraying our hive with air freshener or something</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh hey wait that reminds me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: isnt it fucked up how jane literally owns the internet??</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Id never really thought about it i admit.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its pretty fucked up trust me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like she already owns the major method of information dissemination and now she wants to be the one ultimately in control of what information gets disseminated</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do you really think one person should have all that power</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Hmmmmmmmmm.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE ANSWER IS NO, IDIOT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is why you should back us and our campaign</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: our campaign slogan for the purpose of this conversation only is “hey isnt it cool how were not jane and also we dont want to own everything”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and also... man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: on a more personal note</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean have you even SEEN the shit janes been saying about you in the media</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">a look of sadness sweeps across jake’s face, but he quickly turns it into a glare of indignation.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ive seen the shit YOUVE been saying about HER! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Your poorly optimized billboards about “huge dunks” on the economy and “neoliberal austerity measures” tumbling down geometrically improbable staircases have made quite a stir in the neighborhood. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: These advertisements play at all hours of the night my good man. One can hardly get a wink of sleep!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah but at least we paid for it out of campaign dollars instead of spinelessly setting up super pacs to spew out propaganda for us</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Super pacs??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: listen to this bullshit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so theyre technically expenditure independent committees meaning they can allocate unlimited funding for...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">karkat covers dave’s mouth, having had the concept of the “super pac” laboriously explained in his presence more than once. in his estimation, there are few individuals on this world who would benefit less from an in-depth discussion of political financing procedure than jake english.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LOOK, DAVE. JAKE REALLY DOESN’T CARE WHAT A SUPER PAC IS. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T THINK ANYONE CARES ABOUT FUCKING SUPER PACS??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I KNOW YOU PUT A LOT OF WORK INTO YOUR SPIEL ABOUT IT, ESPECIALLY THE RAPPED SEQUENCE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO GET ANYBODY TO GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS STUFF MAN, I’M SORRY.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: mmff noomph</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JAKE, THE POINT IS THIS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JANE IS HAVING YOU SMEARED INDIRECTLY.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well that would be the way to do it i suppose if you wished to keep clean hands in an inherently dirty business.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave peels karkat’s hand off his mouth, and bumps him away with his hip, so that he may continue saying things he regards as terribly important for others to hear.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok but thats partially my point</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were doing all our propaganda in house instead of outsourcing to unscrupulous shadow networks with deep money pockets</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what does that mean</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AS MUCH AS I APPRECIATE YOUR “ARTISTIC VISION” DAVE, I THINK THAT YOUR POLITICAL ADS ARE LARGELY GOING OVER PEOPLE’S HEADS. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THEY’RE KIND OF... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bold?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh you mean avant garde</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: everyone knows that</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOT REALLY HOW I WOULD PUT IT EITHER.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nuanced</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: visionary</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you think theyre visionary as fuck</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok yeah you got me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im a forward thinker karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this is just what life is like in the dave lane</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: buckle the fuck up</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M GOING TO SAY THIS FOR THE LAST TIME.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF IS ABSOLUTELY HORRENDOUS SUBJECT MATTER FOR PRODUCING CAMPAIGN ADS!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, OR WHAT POINTS YOU’RE TRYING TO MAKE!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah its awesome</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE WASTING CAMPAIGN MONEY!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were fucking trillionaires dude</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">as the vantas campaign bickers internally, jake becomes pensive, thoughtful. he kicks a rock over the edge of the trail and watches it bounce down the mountain with a baleful expression. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Willickers dave has anyone ever told you that you have an uncanny talent for cutting straight and incisively to the point without sweating any of the bullshit.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Youre rather like dirk in that way actually.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i... what</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HAHAHA. *DAVE* IS GOOD AT CUTTING THROUGH *BULLSHIT*??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: STRIDER IS A FOG MACHINE OF *PURE* BULLSHIT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THERE IS NOTHING THAT COMES OUT OF HIS MOUTH THAT IS *NOT BULLSHIT*.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats basically true</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND I’M PRETTY SURE DIRK MIGHT BE EVEN WORSE?!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah pretty much</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SORRY JAKE. I KNOW WE’RE SOLICITING YOU FOR THE SWAY YOUR HOT POPULAR ASS HAS OVER THE PEOPLE, AND NOT EXACTLY YOUR BRAINPOWER, SO MAYBE THIS IS SOMEWHAT UNFAIR, BUT...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT MAY HAVE BEEN THE WORST TAKE I’VE EVER FUCKING HEARD IN MY LIFE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whoa chill out man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: remember were trying to woo this guy onto our side </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can you maybe go at least a solid minute without forgetting youre a fuckin politician now?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that means you should try not to insult everybody you meet multiple times per sentence</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK!! </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH, I KNOW.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M FUCKING SORRY JAKE. FOR IMPLYING THAT YOU HAVE SLIGHTLY LESS CEREBRAL PROCESSING POWER THAN THE SWEATY WEDGIE THIS FUCKING SUIT IS GIVING MY THROBBING, HIKE-SORE ASS.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hmm</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nope that still sucks</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you suck dude</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH, WELL CHEW ON THIS, “MASTER STRATEGIST.” MAYBE YOU TELLING ME I SUCK IS ACTUALLY THE SMARTEST THING YOU’VE EVER FUCKING SAID!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gentlemen!!!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jeepers fucking christmas.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I was just trying to pay mr strider a gracious compliment not every little pleasantry need be taken with such blasted literalism! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And i appreciate that youre trying to sway my political favor into your bungalow with a bit of the old elbow grease and cajolery even if your methods are wont to veer into full throated invective in virtually every single exchange no matter how harmless the topic.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And i truly mean it when i say i DO appreciate the effort. Both at the brownnosing as well as the dubious restraint when it comes to impugning my noodle.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But all this is adding up to make me wonder...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jake slices a hand through the air, determined to display his newfound autonomy. it’s growing by the minute now that his thought process has been severed from the prince’s grip. an old confidence fills him as he continues to speak, a feeling of inner freedom he hasn’t enjoyed in some time.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why should i side with either of you?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Flattery is all well and good but i hardly think i would bother casting my knickers in with anyones lot based on the quality of praise or for that matter withholding them due to having my ego bruised from a verbal drubbing.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im not entirely ignorant of the rules of this jamboree. I understand that whoever i endorse will have a good chance of winning on nothing but my good word.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So why should i trust ANYONE trying to win my favor right now? Do you have ANY case to make which does not involve glowing accounts of my muscular bottom???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">I know it seems like an objectively good thing from some pithy moral standpoint to let everyone in this little drama Jane’s cooked up make their “own decisions,” but trust me: Jake isn’t thinking for himself any more than he was while being indirectly controlled. Everything he’s thinking and feeling right now is merely reactive. He’s like a mostly dead bug twitching around on the last of its hemolymph after getting its head cut off. Under my guidance, he was like an ant being influenced by the cordyceps fungus. You can’t really call one of these “better” than the other, but at least the latter is being directed toward some greater purpose.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">for a moment, jake thinks he hears something. a miniscule voice, prattling along vaingloriously. but he realizes it’s only a tiny insect buzzing about his ear. a gnat-like presence of absolutely no consequence. he simply waves it away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok yeah we can do that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you mean like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: an actual pitch?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: on policy or shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or vision for the world</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we can set you up bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or i mean this guy can</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats what he was made for</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: born fuckin leader right here</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: take it away man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: our boy jake here wants to be goddamn dazzled</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave grins and affectionately taps karkat on the head with his knuckles.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">karkat unwinds from dave’s loose embrace, takes a deep breath, and clambers up the ridge to speak with jake in a more personable proximity. he has learned new methods for connecting with others on the campaign trail. how to speak broadly, with sweeping conviction, and yet create a sense of intimacy when addressing an individual. he has learned to come across as one who was once a leader, and could be again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LOOK, JAKE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT GOING TO TRY TO SELL YOU SOME LUDICROUS STORY ABOUT HOW I’M THE BEST CANDIDATE EARTH C HAS EVER SEEN OR ANYTHING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT GOING TO BE THAT ARROGANT, ESPECIALLY SINCE MY ARM HAD TO BE TWISTED RIGHT OUT OF ITS SOCKET TO GET ME TO EVEN RUN.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT AT LEAST WE’RE NOT HIDING OUR INTENTIONS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AT THIS POINT, IT’S NOT A POLICY BEEF THAT I HAVE WITH JANE CROCKER.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah im the one with the policy beef</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: corporate welfare destroys public infrastructure</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHUT UP, I’M TALKING.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: word</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE’RE STILL LIVING ON AN INCREDIBLY YOUNG PLANET. LET’S BE REAL. EVERY PRESIDENT UP UNTIL NOW HAS JUST BEEN SOME BOZO BASICALLY PLAYACTING AT BEING IN CHARGE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE THIS WHOLE TIME EVERYONE’S BEEN HOLDING THEIR BREATH WAITING FOR ONE OF *US* TO RUN.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHOEVER WINS, ME OR JANE, WILL SET THE TONE FOR SUBSEQUENT ADMINISTRATIONS FOR WHO KNOWS HOW FUCKING LONG.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S ENTIRELY POSSIBLE THAT JANE WILL PROVE TO BE A COMPETENT PRESIDENT. I HAVE NO DOUBTS ON HER ADMINISTRATIVE ACUMEN, CONSIDERING THAT’S PROBABLY THE ONLY FUCKING THING SHE HAS GOING FOR HER, BESIDES A SERIES OF PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES WHICH I KEEP BEING TOLD AREN’T TOO HARD ON THE EYES, BUT FRANKLY, I STILL DON’T KNOW IF I’M SEEING IT? </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, SHE’S LIKE... *ALRIGHT*? I FUCKING *GUESS*??</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Now lets not be too unfair old chap...  </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I THINK I’M ALLOWED TO BE *UNFAIR* WHEN SHE’S HOLDING THE REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS OF MY ENTIRE SPECIES HOSTAGE.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ah. Point well met.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: JAKE, SHE WILL SET A HORRIBLE PRECEDENT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SHE’S INDIRECT. SHE’S PRIVILEGED. SHE’S CONCERNED WITH HOW THINGS *LOOK* RATHER THAN HOW THINGS *ARE*.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO MATTER HOW NICE SHE WAS WHEN YOU WERE KIDS, HER DEDICATION TO THE APPEARANCE OF THAT “NICENESS” HAS ALREADY LED HER DOWN A PATH OF CORRUPTION AND DUPLICITY.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE WHEN YOU LIVE INSIDE A SKIN THAT’S A LIE, YOU’LL EITHER GROW TO FIT IT, OR COLLAPSE UNDER THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF YOUR OWN SHIT-SPEWING COGNITIVE DISSONANCE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TRUST ME, I FUCKING KNOW, BECAUSE I USED TO SPEW AN UNTOLD AMOUNT OF SHIT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (yeah... “used to”)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DUDE!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GET OFF MY BULGE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU WANTED ME TO SPIN SOME FUCKING GOLD? TO BUST OUT THE *GOOD SHIT*??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THERE! I SAID IT! THAT WAS THE ***GOOD SHIT***!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M DONE! I DID MY THING! THIS MINCING HALFWIT IN THE TINY SHORTS CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS NOW!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (no no that was good man)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (i was just messin with you)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (great job dude i love it)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jake chews on these remarks for a minute. he loves jane and dirk dearly. he has loved both of them for years, on and off, in multiple fashions and configurations, in accordance with the human understanding of this feeling. he thinks it could break jane’s heart were he to oppose her. and yet, hasn’t she fired the first shot by broadcasting such scandalous things about him in the media? and it was so soon after they’d nearly had an intimate reconciliation. the more he thinks on it, the more jake struggles to believe in the sincerity behind jane’s friendship with him.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">and the prince?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">dirk, as he knows him, hasn’t been given much thought by jake recently. jake has been savoring the fruits of a mental liberation he is barely aware of, let alone capable of comprehending. when he considers crossing dirk, he’s not afraid of making him angry or hurting his feelings. he’s simply always wanted to avoid disappointing him. and yet, with the cognitive cloud of dirk’s influence dispelled, jake now cannot shake the feeling that the best course of action would be the one that asserts the most independence from dirk, disappointment be damned.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">and to whatever extent the prince intends to put jake’s life in jeopardy, for now, his agency remains safely obscured from his sniper sight. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well dash my wig!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ill do it!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DASH YOUR WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuck yeah</p>
    </div></div>
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  "31": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            31
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>erezi is munching her way through another tin of human fatherly tobacco as john crawls into the back seat. this has been their ritual for several days. precisely how many, they couldn’t say. between her frequent naps and his diligence in keeping a lookout for any additional survivors, they have been losing track of time. john, eyes unfocused, stares at the expanse of nothingness. perhaps he imagines it, but it seems as if the emptiness itself is curving against the staggering weight of the black hole they orbit.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he hasn’t seen any sign of vriska. he’s seen no one at all. it’s just him, terezi, and the sky on all sides. he scoots back to lean against the car door, drawing his knees up to his chest, unsure how to act around terezi or how much room to give her. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she holds out a handful of tobacco. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W4NT SOM3 D3L1C1OUS DRY C4NDY SH4V1NGS?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ew, no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you have any idea what you’re eating right now?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she shrugs and licks the crumbs off her hand. his eyes can’t help but follow the motion of her tongue. it leaves a trail of faintly teal saliva behind that glistens in the strange light coming through the windows. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s like... a poison plant. you’re not supposed to eat it, you’re supposed to put it in a pipe and smoke it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think that if i ate it i’d probably get mouth cancer or something.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU W3R3 BL1ND 4ND S4W W1TH YOUR NOS3 4ND TONGU3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T WOULD T4ST3 L1K3 CHOCOL4T3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: seriously?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, is that kinda like synesthesia? </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are all trolls like that, or just you? i’ve always wondered.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she gives him a narrow-eyed look. her thick eyelashes shadow her gaze. he feels anxious without knowing why. it’s as if he’s waiting for something to happen. for something to change.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU CUR1OUS 4BOUT M3? H3H3H3H3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... yes?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: your whole licking thing has always been kind of weird.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: a lot of things about you are weird.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like we talked a lot, but i still know almost nothing about you, since so many of our conversations were just... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BULLSH1T?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i guess.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i always felt like you were trying to fight me for some reason.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like i can’t just talk to you normally. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it always has to be like... a jokey argument! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or a snark-off. or something.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: FOR 1T TO B3 4 SN4RK OFF YOUD H4V3 TO PROV3 4 WORTHY OPPON3NT 3GB3RT H4H4H4</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: see, like that!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you just...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: always do THAT!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi’s expression changes in a subtle way, slowly, like the tide pulling out. she snaps the tobacco tin shut and sets it down on the floor of the car.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1...</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SUPPOS3 1 C4N B3 PR3TTY D1FF1CULT TO B3 4ROUND</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, no...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i didn’t mean...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m sorry, terezi.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he unfolds his legs, so he can set a comforting hand on her shoulder. he wonders if he’s allowing it to linger there longer than it should.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: look.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been really depressed and antisocial for the last few years.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so i guess going on this insane suicide mission out of nowhere has been making me get all, um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: philosophical about my relationships and shit?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i’ve been out here long enough that i’m starting to forget what certain basic things... feel like? if that makes sense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like i’m all numb inside. and this fucking tooth in my chest isn’t helping either. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i just want to have a REAL conversation with someone?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he pushes her shoulder, lightly, so that they’re looking at each other. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i want to have a real conversation with you.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi makes very close eye and nose contact with john, in a way that comes across as intently sincere. this arrangement lasts for about ten seconds before her mouth cracks in a grin, and she doubles over laughing. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4H4H4H4H4H4H4!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH MY GOD TH4TS TH3 L4M3ST TH1NG 1V3 H34RD 1N MY 3NT1R3 L1F3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh come on!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 3GB3RT, NO M4TT3R HOW OLD OR YOUNG YOU 4R3, YOU N3V3R CH4NG3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU 4R3 POS1T1V3LY, TRULY 4ND UND3N14BLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3 B1GG3ST FUCK1NG DORK 1 H4V3 3V3R KNOWN &gt;:]</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: haha, ok, i get it!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry i said anything, geez.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH DONT LOOK L1K3 TH4T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 D1DNT S4Y 1T W4S 4 B4D TH1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 4CTU4LLY F1ND 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R3FR3SH1NG??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she pulls her legs up under her. her shoes catch the light and reflect it all over the ceiling in little red dots. john’s heart skips a beat.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re wearing jade’s shoes.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi frowns, and then her eyes widen as if she’s been caught. her reply is defensive.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3Y W3R3 1N TH3 W4LL3T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah. i guess i put them in there.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 L1K3 TH3M</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 C4N T4K3 TH3M OFF 1F 1TS CR33P1NG YOU OUT THOUGH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, it’s fine. it just made me think about...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the doomed timeline, he means. the state of the session he entered, where he was confronted with billions of pieces of debris from several shattered planets. he pictures terezi’s lifeless body as it collapses onto a corpse-shaped chalk outline she drew for herself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you know what happened, right? the first time we all met up and tried to fight the condesce?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we were completely unprepared and basically got our asses handed to us.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: by which i mean, everybody died.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think about it a lot.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess it’s kind of hard NOT to think a lot about seeing all your friends die horrible deaths.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i also think about you from that timeline a lot too.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY 1S TH4T?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because you were amazing! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i couldn’t believe how you could hold it all together while you were literally bleeding to death.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: almost like it wasn’t even bothering you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, you were actually in the process of dying horribly, and you STILL went to the bother of dunking on me with your scarf instructions.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you were so brave. it was like you were undefeatable that day. like you were refusing to let us lose.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i carry around that memory whenever i think about you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and maybe why i always feel like you’re sorta, steamrolling over me when we talk.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think i’m still a little... intimidated by you?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess that sounds kinda stupid though.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">suddenly, terezi’s voice is very small.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 R3M3MB3R 4LL TH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you do?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she nods, smiling grimly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS WHY 1M OUT H3R3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU S33...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4T DOOM3D T3R3Z1 M1SS3D VR1SK4 *SO* MUCH, 1T W4S L1K3 4 HOL3 1N H3R H34RT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 R3M3MB3R TH3 W4Y SH3 F3LT, B3C4US3 ON3 T1M3, 4LL H3R M3MOR13S C4M3 FLOOD1NG B4CK</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 3V3N GOT TO S33 WH4T H4PP3N3D WH3N SH3 D13D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SH3 4ND 4NOTH3R VR1SK4 GHOST F1N4LLY FOUND 34CH OTH3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T M4D3 M3 SO H4PPY G3TT1NG TO F33L TH4T, 4S 1F 1T W4S ON3 OF MY OWN M3MOR13S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T JUST R31NFORC3D TH3 F33L1NG TH4T TH3R3 W4S SOM3TH1NG SP3C14L B3TW33N US</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND 1 JUST K3PT H4NG1NG ON TO TH4T B3L13F, R1GHT UP UNT1L...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH, 1 DONT KNOW</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOW???</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1V3 PR4CT1C4LLY D3VOT3D MY L1F3 TO C3RT41N M3MOR13S, TO TH3 1D34 TH4T TWO P3OPL3 C4N B3 M34NT TO B3 W1TH 34CH OTH3R ON SOM3 COSM1C L3V3L, 3V3N 1F TH3Y 4LW4YS S33M TO G3T 34CH OTH3R 1NTO TROUBL3 </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4LL TH4T 1NV3STM3NT, 4LL TH4T S34RCH1NG...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND FOR *WH4T*?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OV3R 4 SW33P TOG3TH3R, 4ND SH3 JUST D1S4PP34RS 1NTO THE VO1D 4G41N?!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T 4 HUG3 B1TCH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">his hand is on her shoulder again. and his other hand has found the other shoulder. john notices his own palm grazing up the side of her neck to cup her face. the act was made with barely a thought, and his own boldness surprises himself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: you SAVED everyone!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re the only reason we were able to defeat lord english and win the game at all!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if it weren’t for you, me and roxy would have just floated around in paradox space like a couple of losers with no idea what to do!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even worse, i might have tried to fix things MYSELF!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH D34R GOD</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi shrugs out from under his grasp but doesn’t move away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: S1GH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT G3T M3 WRONG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M NOT D1SCOUNT1NG TH3 OBJ3CT1V3 V4LU3 OF MY OTH3R S3LFS ACT1ONS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M GL4D TH4T W3 D1DNT 4LL D13 1N 4 DOOM3D T1M3L1N3 4ND L3T LORD 3NGL1SH F1N1SH 34T1NG 4LL OF SP4C3T1M3 </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT 1 DONT... </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 DONT *F33L* 1T</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS NOT 4 R4T1ON4L 3MOT1ON JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS L1K3 YOU!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: me?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY 4R3 YOU ST1LL OUT H3R3 W1TH M3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um... because i’m not just going to leave you here to die?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUV3 M4D3 V3RY F3W OV3RTUR3S R3G4RD1NG TH3 SUBJ3CT OF GO1NG HOM3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR3 JUST *L3TT1NG* M3 CONT1NU3 TO PO1NTL3SSLY C1RCL3 TH1S FUCK1NG BL4CK HOL3 3V3N THOUGH 1TS OBV1OUS TH4T VR1SK4 1S D34D!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND YOUR3 JUST L3TT1NG *YOURS3LF* B3 OUT H3R3 TOO, 4S W3 SP1R4L DOWN TH3 LO4D G4P3R TOG3TH3R!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... don’t know?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i hadn’t thought about it, to be honest.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 3X4CTLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 34RTH C 1S P3RF3CT 1SNT 1T?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT NOT FOR YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU DONT *F33L* 1T</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john swallows a thick breath. he reminds himself that he never wanted perfection, never asked for it. and yet he feels guilty every day for failing to enjoy it as much as he believes he was supposed to. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re right. i don’t.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOUV3 B33N D3PR3SS3D 4ND 4NT1SOC14L TH3S3 L4ST F3W Y34RS, 1 B3T TH4T YOUR FR13NDS M1SS YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: probably.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but for some reason, i don’t feel like i have anything to go home to.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heh... you’re right. it’s not a rational feeling. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but it’s there anyway.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">a tear hits his knee, staining his pants dark. he rubs his eyes furiously. he’s afraid terezi will mock him for his childish display of emotion. but she just watches him, patient and sympathetic.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she tips her head to one side, and asks, </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T 3ND3D UP H4PP3N1NG W1TH ROXY?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dunno.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we just sorta stopped hanging out regularly.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then she got close with callie and i felt too awkward to try to figure out where our relationship stood.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R34LLY?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMM</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 JUST 4SSUM3D TH4T BY NOW YOU TWO M1GHT H4V3 GOTT3N TOG3TH3R</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: really?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO R34SON. JUST 4 HUNCH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 DONT TH1NK 1T WOULD H4V3 WORK3D OUT THOUGH</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what makes you say that?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she taps her nose and winks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 DUNNO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH4TS WH4T H4V1NG 4 HUNCH FUCK1NG M34NS, N3RD!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ugh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re impossible.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TRU3! </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT YOU L1K3 M3 4NYW4Y</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: y... yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i actually missed you, you know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: more than i thought i did.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john wonders, after he makes the statement: what if she just needed someone to tell her that she was missed? a bit late to consider the question, but he considers it anyway. perhaps this will make her want to end this search and come home with him.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he wonders if the time is right. the time to ask.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi... come home with me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she shakes her head. her face is turned against the light so he can’t read her expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M NOT R34DY Y3T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when WILL you be ready?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 DONT KNOW</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: M4YB3 N3V3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU H4DNT FOUND M3, 1 PROB4BLY WOULD H4V3 D13D R1GHT?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1S TH4T WH4T 1 W4NT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, obviously not, dummy!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if you wanted to die so bad you wouldn’t have...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...eaten all that disgusting shaving cream and tobacco!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he gestures to where she still has a smear of shaving cream on the hem of her shirt, crusted over from sitting there for hours. she sniffs at the residue, then lifts her shirt to lick it off, crinkling her nose. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMM</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU COULD B3 ON TO SOM3TH1NG</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: at least let me make a supply run.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: maybe i can get you some REAL food?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it seems to him like an uncontroversial compromise to offer, so he pulls back, preparing to travel back to earth c via his retcon capability. but terezi grabs him by the wrist. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W41T</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">her eyes are wide, her voice cracked and desperate. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT GO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: PL34S3 JOHN</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ST4Y W1TH M3 JUST 4 L1TTL3 LONG3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU L34V3 M3 NOW...  </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T 1F YOU C4N N3V3R F1ND M3 4G41N 1N TH1S MOM3NT?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, we can’t stay here forever!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 KNOW</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he has no idea how to react to her behavior. he’s never seen her this vulnerable. she’s shaking where she is touching him, and her lower lip is visibly trembling. he nods, and she slowly lets go of his arm.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">they are silent for a minute. they both stare ahead at the car seats in front of them, sitting close enough to hear the beat of each other’s hearts. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...DO YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W4NT M3 TO T4K3 4 LOOK 4T YOUR WOUND?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">john had gotten so used to the pain, he’d almost forgotten about it. he looks down at the place where his shirt has grown stiff from the congealed blood. now that he dwells on it, he can feel the ache again, both from the tooth piercing his flesh and, more insidiously, from the poison it has been delivering into his bloodstream. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, um.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, we should probably do something about that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i feel like if i was gonna die from it, i would have done that already. but it’s really lodged in there, huh?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i thought maybe it’d just come out on its own, like when you get a splinter in your foot.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU R34LLY 4R3 DUMB 4R3NT YOU?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he rolls his eyes. terezi produces her cane and unsheathes the blade in one fluid motion.
        the metal rasps against the grain of its sheath, rather loudly.
        <span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">I’m sorry, what? No it doesn’t.</span>
        the noise resounds throughout the sealed interior of the car
        <span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Actually, drawing a sword is pretty quiet. It only makes that sound in the movies.</span>
        and rings through john’s skull like a gunshot.</p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Are you seriously manifesting inaccurate physical properties of swords for the sole purpose of antago</span>
        john reflexively backs up against the door at <span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Oh, fuck this.</span> the sight of the blade.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: woah!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOLD ST1LL 1F YOU DONT W4NT TO D13 FOR R34L</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he holds still. her eyebrows are knitted with fierce determination. she sets a hand on his thigh and draws the blade up under his shirt. he shivers, letting out a breathy laugh at the coolness of the metal against his bare chest. there is a pinch when the congealed, bloody fabric rips from his skin.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he glances down. the wound looks worse than he was imagining, is far more than just a puncture. an uncanny darkness spreads across his chest. the gash is scabbing at the edges, bruised all around. his entire torso appears to be a mottled mess of purple and yellow, like a sort of fancy earth cheese. terezi’s blade cuts into it as easily as if it were.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh FUCK!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ow!!!!! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: could have used some warning there, terezi!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T TH3 H3LL D1D YOU TH1NK 1 W4S *GO1NG* TO DO W1TH TH1S SWORD, 1D1OT!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she’s close enough that her breath washes over his face. it smells like shaving cream and tobacco, which is jarring to him, if not surprising. she is without her glasses, and so close that john notices things he hasn’t had occasion to before. like how lovely her eyes are. the length of her eyelashes, now that he’s really seeing them just inches from his face, is astounding to him. he has never thought of terezi as particularly feminine, at least in the way humans understand this idea. but he has never been forced to reckon with her features so unavoidably. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">the dark borders around the perimeter of her eyes are thicker and darker than what most trolls have. the tired bags under them are ditches in the shadows cast by her angular features, made more gaunt from hunger. when she blinks, her lashes brush the ridges of her cheekbones.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">her nostrils are flared, assessing the scent of his blood. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 W3 DO1NG TH1S OR WH4T?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he presses his eyes shut, and nods. he feels numb, clammy, jittering down to his bones from a particular sensation. a feeling he still seems to be denying to himself. as his own thoughts struggle to be honest with him, he cannot disguise the truth from me. what he is fighting is an intense desire to kiss her. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: g... go for it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she grinds the sword between two of his ribs. the pain returns instantly, his acclimation erased nearly as quickly. he clenches his jaw hard, and his head spins. terezi’s blade catches against something. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HMMM</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1TS LODG3D 1N TH3R3 PR3TTY GOOD</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BR4C3 YOURS3LF 3GB3RT, TH1S 1S GO1NG TO ST1NG</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he can feel the tooth moving around against his flesh, the fibrous, spasmodic contractions of his muscles around it. when she wrenches the blade and pops the tooth out, he isn’t proud of the sound he makes. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he finally opens his eyes. terezi’s arms are covered in his blood. she tosses the sword down to the floor of the car, in what suddenly strikes john as a fairly unhygienic surgical situation, and grabs his shirt with two clenched, red fists. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 N33D TO STOP TH3 BL33D1NG</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JUST FOLLOW MY L34D</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she peels him out of his hoodie and then his shredded t-shirt. he’s dizzy. his vision wavers, fades. it takes terezi’s sudden grip on his shoulder to bring him back from the brink. the brink of what, he doesn’t know. unconsciousness. canonic dissolution. he has no cognizance of what the poison in his veins does to someone, or that it’s even in his system. all he knows is that terezi is the only thing keeping him moored. she holds him firm, her thumb in the dip of his clavicle, her sharp nails etching scores in his back. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he watches her tear his t-shirt into a long strip. he lifts his arms obediently as she wraps it around his chest and ties it off. her hands slide over the bandage and linger there. her fingers splay on his collarbones, her right hand resting above his heart. she slides her palms down his stomach, then around to his hips, leaving long bloody streaks along his torso. his blood, ten uneven tracks of it, one for each of her fingers. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">when his arms come down, they wrap around her shoulders. pulling her into his lap feels natural to him. a simple redirection of her momentum, to guide her closer. what comes less naturally is the first kiss. her lips are there, hovering just over his. yet he hesitates. his mind is still lying to itself, casting doubt on what it really wants. i don’t see a purpose in allowing his self-deceit to continue for much longer. it’s wrong to contradict one’s true thoughts and feelings. irrational. unbecoming of an existence governed by free will.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">what are you waiting for, john? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: FOR FUCKS S4K3 JOHN, DONT S4Y 4NYTH1NG STUP1D R1GHT NOW</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he nods stupidly, and leans forward to kiss her. terezi attacks, closing the gap between them swiftly. she bites into his mouth, drawing blood when she sucks his lower lip. he twists his hands in the fabric of her shirt so hard it rides up her back.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">john can’t tell if it’s the pain or the arousal that’s emboldening him. it is neither. he is simply being barred from ignoring his true thoughts. even without the aid of a juju, he is fortunate enough to be blessed with the only true form of divinity. to be released from the prison of nonsensical inhibitions which so often psychologically hobble the more primitive forms of life. in his newfound clarity he discovers bravery, pulls terezi’s shirt off all the way, and does what he really wants to do, which is ghost his hands all the way up the curve of her spine.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">she sighs into his mouth.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH MY GOD YOUR BLOOD SM3LLS D3L1C1OUS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: woah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, wow.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think you’re really pretty, in... the light of the dead universe?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">terezi rears back with a faint snarl and wraps both her hands around his neck. she doesn’t press down, but the weight of her thumbs above his throat makes his heart race. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: D1DNT 1 T3LL YOU</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: S4Y</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: <em>*4NYTH1NG*</em> STUP1D</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">careful of her grip around his neck, john locks his arms around her waist and pulls her flush against him. she’s ravenous when their mouths collide, her desire intensified by the taste and scent of his blood. she doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else for a while, stupid or otherwise.</p></div>
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    <div>
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            32
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">R</span>oxy is nervously dialing rose’s number repeatedly. then they try kanaya. considering rose’s failing health, roxy hates to bother her, but they aren’t sure who else to call regarding jade’s unexpected trance. their finger hovers over dirks number for a moment, but... no. that would not be a good idea. they don’t know why they suddenly think it’s a bad idea. it just is.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">roxy’s anxiety fills up the room, like a bell struck in an empty hall. their thoughts, usually so quiet, invisible to those observing from the vantage of a higher textual plane, now chime loudly in the presence of a black hole. or rather, in the presence of a proxy for such a vortex of pure void. a proxy such as jade’s mind, at the moment.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">jade floats over the couch in a sitting position, an inch above the cushions. her long hair billows around her, her hands crossed in her lap. her black eyes bore into the nothingness, looking beyond the wall she faces, and beyond everything past it, through the very fabric of narrative itself. they scan the ciliary veins of pacing, motivation, foreshadowing, irony—a continuum that has been upended by the prince’s interference. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">rose still does not pick up.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">roxy resigns themself to a confidant of last resort. their reluctance is not due to lack of fondness. their conversations with dave simply have a reliable habit of straying far from the desired topic for extended periods of time. he picks up on the third ring.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: love to chat but im kinda in the middle of something</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yo yourself but this is important</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uhhh </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: more important than salvaging the global economy from potential disaster??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sounds hugely unlikely </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave is currently making his way through the backlot of the new cantown memorial stadium, following jake as he heads toward the podium. he is scheduled to give a speech announcing his official endorsement of karkat vantas in his bid for the presidency.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk about that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: in terms of scale and relativity and stuff maybe not</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its actually kinda hard to tell</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i guess in the grand scheme of things</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes just takin a sort of nap</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but its one HELL of a nap bro</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a nap you say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well this changes the fuck out of everything</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it’s a balmy, windless evening on dave’s end. the gathered crowd is relaxed by the warmth. many of them partake in the pleasure of a cool treat, such as earth “iced” cream.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Jesus fuck, this is excruciating.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it isn’t.
        <span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Yeah it is.</span>
        no. it is not.
        <span class="dirk type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Okay. Whatever the fuck you say.</span></p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">the audience is large and diverse. mostly trolls and carapacians, but it is dotted with representation from the human and consort kingdoms as well. a lopsided distribution, certainly, but the very model of diversity compared to the crowds of his opponent. it is a true inspiration to all those who have placed their faith in the vantas ticket.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Lord save me from this fake woke nightmare.</span>
    <span class="calliope-dead">be quiet.</span>
    <span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">No.</span>
    <span class="calliope-dead">yes.</span>
    <span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Let me fucking say stuff again.</span>
    <span class="calliope-dead">no.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave stops walking, and cups a hand around his phone in order to hear roxy over the chatter of the crowd. karkat shoots him a curious look, but dave waves at him in a manner which signals to karkat that he should attempt to stall.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">You want to keep shutting me down? Fine. But check THIS shit out.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao dirk just texted me about this</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: somehow he found out about jade did u tell him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh no</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: he just said make sure she gets lotsa daylight</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: that itll help with the “exorcism she needs”.....</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and also to say hi to calliope for some fuckin reason??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats weird</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: since when does he give a fuck about them</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: guess ill just open the damn curtains and let some light in here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: he usually knows stuff about weird things </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so whats wrong with her again</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: some sort of demonic nap</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ok i wouldnt say shes NAPPING per se</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes just like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: floatin here... upright</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: eyes wide open</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and theyre both pitch black</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh so she saw one of my latest sbahj campaign ads</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no dude</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like what im sayin is</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: she looks a lil possessed</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: by uh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: grim spirits n shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is she fucking grimbark again</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: this isnt grimbark</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i KNOW what grimbark is dave this aint it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: it seems more serious tbh??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like existing in some transformative state that isnt a literal fuckin joke</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok yeah this does sound pretty bad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but its not really my field</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did you try calling rose</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea that was totes my original plan </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like no offense ur not #1 on my speed dial when it comes to this kinda thing</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but rose isnt picking up</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: probly on account of ailments to be fair</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i called an unruly number of times</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and kan wasnt picking up either so...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: spooky</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hella spooky</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: somethin about all this seems wrong</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i guess</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what do you think is up</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i feel like theres something movin just out the corner of my vision but every time i turn to look at it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its gone</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its givin me chills rn like im being watched</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well im no fucking ace detective</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or some gumshoe flatfoot dicking up the place suckin hard on my sherlock pipe like some sleuth of the fucking year</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but maybe we should consider the possibility that you are literally being watched</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ..............</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway can we hold that wise and rad thought i just had</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i gotta give karkat some emotional support</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: since gettin jake on our side was a pretty huge fucking bonanza for us</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which has almost equal probability of winning us the election as it does blowing up in our faces depending on this speech he gives</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so we gotta like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: concentrate here?????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: instead of jerking each other off all god damned day for the rest of our lives</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (im just joking we dont actually do that)</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">roxy clutches a hand around their knee, nails digging into their pants. they feel uneasy about jake’s sudden lack of neutrality in this political matter. they have never been certain that it is appropriate for any of them to be involved with the structures of power and governance in a world they created, and in which they have been regarded as gods since they first appeared.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Really? That’s what she thinks? Huh. Couldn’t for the life of me read what was going on inside her head. But this is very interesting, actually.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">their thoughts are of no concern to you. also, the pronoun they use is “they.” try to respect it.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">How can I respect a fucking pronoun when nobody can even hear me? How about we call a truce and end this petty feud. This is your one and only chance to accept.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">no.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jakes on ur side then?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wasnt that hard to convince him after your girl j crock started slut shaming him on public access </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: god dammit jane</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so i take it jade didnt convert you to our cause before going into her gothic trance fugue or whatever</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: siiigh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i just want this whole stupid political thing over n done with tbh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i hate watchin u guys tear each other apart in the news</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah sorry about that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry its making you feel bad i mean</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not sorry that were doin it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: itd be an unconscionably lame move to put something on a billboard that i didnt 100% stand by</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but that sounds suspiciously like something jane would do </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: aka the bad guy in this situation</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like objectively speaking</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ugh pls dont start</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just sayin</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idgAF!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: aside from how vehemently i disagree with every detail in janes shitty platform</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i also think</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkats the right guy for the job </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: full stop</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">despite their mixed feelings on the election, and the troubling sight of jade’s wide, black eyes glaring intensely at nothing at all, roxy smiles at what they hear from dave. the way he talks about karkat reminds roxy of the way calliope looks when they call them beautiful.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Oh, so she really does think Calliope is beautiful? Like, she wasn’t just saying that to be nice? Fascinating.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">yes, is the resounding answer. calliope <em>is</em> beautiful, roxy thinks. and furthermore, they think they should be reminded of this fact every day.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Lol.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: you rly believe in him dont u</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of course i do</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: because i...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Love him? Come on, man. Just say it.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">roxy listens for a moment after he trails off. they do not speculate or comment on his feelings toward karkat, because it is none of their business.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Pussies. I’m surrounded by fucking pussies.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey before you jet can i ask you another question</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres somethin else ive been meanin to ask u about for a while</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: uh alright shoot</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">they take a deep breath.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea soooo</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave how did you come out</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like as not being straight</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: howd you couch that to ppl w/o them freakin out or being awkward around u</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: do u think its ever too late to</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: change ur mind?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: about the person you wanna be??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like is there a some point of no return you can cross where everyone is waitin for u to have a big ass revelation about your internal character</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but its like “dude no u already used up all ur gay capital when u started datefriend cohabitating w a cute as hell skeleton alien”</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and anything after that ur just gettin greedy</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is greedy even the right word</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: greedy for droppin bombshells</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: bout gender identities and sexual preferences</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or ids n preffies as i like to call em ;)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ids n preffies</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats fucking good</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave thinks on the question. it’s one he’d considered years ago, and many times since. how long can one stall on a confession before it feels like it’s too late? the last seven years have passed by in fits and starts, in this regard. he thought he had it all figured out when he was sixteen. and then again when he was eighteen. and then at twenty. and now...  </p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">That’s because he needs me. He’s suffering without my guidance. If only you’d stop being so cruel and let me help.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats a pretty deep question considering all the shit we have going on right now</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah ur right </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: now is probs not the best time for a feels jam</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: especially with the creepy jade situation happening on my couch here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno if id worry too much about that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade goes into trances literally all the time</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she fucking loves sleeping</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youd think someone who spent so much of her life locked in a state of dubiously consensual slumber would wanna get as few zees as possible in her adult life but not jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive never known anyone who hits the snooze button more times in a row than her</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if youre that worried take her to a hospital</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im thinkin about it!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: not even sure if i wanna like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mess with her tho?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: how would i even take her there...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok well while you ponder whether you wanna dump jade in a wheelbarrow and trundle her groggy spooked-up ass to the hospital</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in the meantime ill rap at you about my epiphany concerning the desire to bone some dudes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: probably not a literal rap though </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow im disappointed </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean i could TOTALLY rap about wanting to bone dudes if i wanted?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im just on the fuckin clock here and theres lots of people lookin at me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: :(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave, suddenly self-conscious, slips around the corner of the stadium, so he can non-literally rap at roxy about delicate human lgbt issues. he also maneuvers away from the impatient, strained looks karkat has been shooting him repeatedly during his phone call. luckily, jake has begun a performance of his signature booty-bumping charleston for the crowd’s entertainment, so they will be satiated for another few minutes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok so </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what ive learned is </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: coming to terms with all this bullshit is a thing you sort of do in stages</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like stage one is you making jokes about how sweaty dudes standing close together in tv shows seems really gay</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stage two is making jokes about that and not immediately adding no homo afterward</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stage three is flirting with all your male friends ironically and not even thinking about adding no homo afterward because youre so fuckin woke and secure in your ironclad straight masculinity that you dont have anything to prove to anybody anymore</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or thats just what you say out loud</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: inside you start being like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe yes homo</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stage four is freaking out about that and putting the no homo back on all your statements even objectively heterosexual ones which just stupidly makes everything you say sound extra gay</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stage five is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually wait the next few stages are various permutations of the same thing that i already described</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it starts being like a gay fractal</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway eventually you arrive at like stage nine</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is reminding everyone who will listen that youre gay minimum six times a day</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: in really lame ways like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh cool dude are you making hot pockets</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: better make mine a gay hot pocket</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cause im a gay homosexual who only consumes homo ass snacks delivered right to my mouth by a big queer butler</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: servin it right up on his huge gay dick</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but that all only applies to the extent which i am technically gay</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which in my case is only about maybe 30% to 70%  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so only cook 30% to 70% of my gay hot pocket</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cause you know straights are fucking animals who never defrost their pepperoni </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and i gotta rep for that like 50% straightness still lurking inside me like the idiot who fell asleep in the shopping mall when it was closing for the night</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so now theres just this straight dude locked in a dark fucking mall for some stupid reason haunting the place like a cryptid and rummaging through the trash in the food court</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: also just in case janes opposition research is listening in on their illegal wiretap i know the word bisexual exists btw im just choosing not to use it in service of spitting some fuckin chuckle jokes here so lets all calm down and not let this one become a distressingly literal federal issue</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway when all is said and done</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you eat a half cooked hot pocket because all your roommates think the height of humor is taking what was obviously an improvisational riff at unironic face value to punk you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: nm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i was gonna ask you why ur like this</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: then i remembered about how ur half me and half dirk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah it really is crazy how those dope late game familial reveals actually did explain everything</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so whats stage ten</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: stage ten is uhhhhhhhh</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave peeks around the corner so he can gaze fondly at karkat. he thinks about stage ten. he considers that in many ways, it’s as difficult as stage one. and yet there is something fragile and lovely about it as well. this is how he feels as he reflects upon the peculiar state of limbo he is in with the person he likes most in the world. he believes he could spend forever with him, in any configuration, any type of relationship, under any conditions of confusion or clarity.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">What would the point of that be? Endless floundering incel limbo? Christ. I’d put them both out of their misery before I let that happen. I need to get back in action. This is a fucking crisis. Do you have any idea what sort of atrocity you’re enabling by allowing this to continue? I’ve been called many things. But even my harshest critics would never accuse me of such cruelty.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">for roxy, it is more complicated. the conversation has unearthed more questions than answers. they run a hand through their hair. it’s cut short, but with great care to convey gender neutrality. they wonder what gender neutrality even is when applied to a haircut. an excellent question, particularly for those of us unfamiliar with hair altogether. what about length and functionality implies gender or sex on a world where such oppositional hierarchies don’t exist, and presentation is culturally vestigial? </p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Dear God. Can we not do this? I can’t sit through any more gender chat. It feels inappropriate. Horrendously invasive of Roxy’s deepest personal thoughts. Can we just leave her inner monologue the fuck alone when it comes to this stuff? Is NOTHING sacred? I’m about to fucking flip. You can’t keep me down forever. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, you’ll see.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince’s tricks mean nothing, and his barely detectable crumbs of impotent discourse shall continue utterly unheeded. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">roxy wonders if this is truly their end point. a haircut that implies nothing at all. an empty statement about a facet of their identity that they barely understand at all. perhaps in time, they will want to go even further than this? perhaps it is just a stepping-stone to a more potent understanding of their gradual gender transformation. how would calliope feel about that? what is it that calliope themself understands or cares about gender? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The Prince opens his fucking mouth, and just literally starts SAYING SHIT, out loud, because he doesn’t think he can take another fucking second listening to a pompous alien virgin monologuing about gender. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it seems the prince finds the rules confining his influence to be a bit unfair, and has resorted to throwing one of his more petulant “human tanties” in order to compensate for his feelings of disempowerment. while the strategy he is resorting to has moderate value as an amusement and a nuisance, it will ultimately be of no consequence whatsoever.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: No consequence, my ass. You may be able to suppress what I do with my mind, but you have no control over my mouth. I’m nobody’s fucking puppet.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: And you don’t even know my friends. They’re not yours to toy with.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They’re mine.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">whatever you say.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Do you even know where I am right now?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Do you have the <em>slightest</em> idea what I’m up to?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince is laboring under the delusion that he has been the least bit subtle in his intentions. he currently stands beneath the carapacian bell tower, poised to climb to the top. he holds the long, red sniper rifle that once belonged to roxy, brandishing it openly and boldly. he seems mysteriously oblivious to the fact that holding a long rifle in broad daylight somewhat tips one to the fact that he soon intends to shoot someone from a great distance. he also seems unaware of the fact that i know perfectly well that the top of this tower has a clear, long-range view of the stadium, allowing any competent sniper a clear shot of whoever happens to be standing at the podium as they give a speech. as jake english is about to do.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">he also doesn’t seem to realize i have anticipated his attempt to assassinate his own friend in order to advance his political goals, and that i am prepared to take measures which make this impossible. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, well. Try and stop me then.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I fucking dare you.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Here I go. I’m walking up the tower stairs now. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Walk, walk, walk. Ah, the exercise feels good. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince’s shoes suddenly feel quite heavy. his calf and thigh muscles, impressively powerful though they are, increasingly struggle to lift his feet with each step. this is going to be quite the onerous climb. he’s not sure if he can make it all the way before the end of the speech. thoughts flash through his mind, thoughts of giving up and retiring to his sad little robotics lab so he can continue with his true passion: the ongoing corruption of his cerebrally impaired daughter. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Argh. Wow, yeah. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re right. My feet are definitely getting heavy.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But the Dead Cherub tragically underestimates the Prince’s determination. He powers the fuck through it. See?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Stomp, stomp, stomp. Up the stairs he goes. No fucking sweat.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh also, did he mention? He can fucking fly, so there’s that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He decides to take flight and cut to the chase. He whips up the hollow vertical shaft at the center of the spiraling tower stairs. Life in the fast lane kicks ass, it turns out. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He can practically taste the top of the tower. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">but suddenly, the bell at the top, notorious among locals for its state of disrepair, becomes dislodged from its fixture with a loud crack. the huge, multiton bell plummets, crushing the surrounding staircases in its wake as it careens toward a young man consumed by hubris. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The Prince busts out his sword and makes short work of that big old bell. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The slicing is accompanied by the ear-shattering melodic sounds of metal being cleaved apart by an anime sword, as the Prince nimbly avoids the sharp pieces and ricocheting stair debris. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He wonders out loud, “what is this, amateur hour”? </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The Dead Cherub then humorlessly narrates, “why, yes. yes mr. strider, it IS amateur hour. and i’m the amateur here, for throwing a huge bell at you. i would like to humbly apologize for my amateurism.”</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">no i don’t.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sure you do. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">this foolishness is interrupted as we resume listening to a conversation which we are all considerably more invested in than catering to the inconsequential flailing of a grown man who fancies himself an earth ninja. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well lets just say internalized whatevers are kind of like an onion</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theres lots of layers </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: they suck on pizza </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and trolls have to get their stomach pumped if they eat them</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this goes for gender stuff too btw</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which i kinda get the feeling is what you were actually asking about</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow am i rly that transparent?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah but as previously discussed youre a lot like me </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so it was pretty easy to figure out what you were getting at</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i dont got ur poker face tho</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but im workin on that!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe ill get a sick pair of shades too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh DOPE</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah thats dope i support that idea</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave’s endorsement of roxy’s fashion proposal is cut short by his concern regarding another key endorsement he’s involved with. he turns his head to see jake nearing the podium as karkat manically taps his wrist in dave’s direction. something is off here. a dark feeling brewing in his intuition, which he decides to monitor as he wraps up his call with roxy.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m on top of the tower now. I’ve got my long sniper rifle ready and everything.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I check to see if it’s loaded. It is. I get in the PERFECT spot for taking aim at this hunky imbecile who’s about to give a speech.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway i dont think any of our friends are gonna hold your feet to the flames over dumb shit like this</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and its not like anyone else is gonna care since we definitely forgot to program hating gays and women into earth c</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: humans are all jacked up on hating xenophiles now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which sucks a lot too dont get me wrong</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: btw did you know janes a xenophobe</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok ok</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so does all this mean i gotta call you dad now or what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean thats what were talkin about right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: well first of all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: do u still even make a habit of callin me mom??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i thought u kinda stopped that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: even if it was effin cute</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah i guess i did</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i could start again</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but not if it means id have to go to fucking gender jail or something</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like what i mean is i could start that cute shit again but switch to dad</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ok but SECOND of all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i would never want to deprive dirk of that noble honorific </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ugh no way</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hahaha yeah way hes ya daddy dude!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: aw fuck noooo</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wow man</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i would never call him that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean i know its true but i just wouldnt...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: something feels</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wrong</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like some shits about to go down</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and i gotta...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave’s unsettled feeling is correct. he senses jake is in danger. no, he knows it. there is about to be an assassination attempt. karkat must be protected. and jake, the intended target, must be obscured from a sniper’s path.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat! dude!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: GET DOWN!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">there is no time. dave takes flight. he swoops karkat off the stage and around the corner, out of view. he urges him to stay down and stay put. dave flashes back to the podium and steps in front of jake, who appears nonplussed. dave puts his hand back, keeping jake corralled behind him, and scans the crowd for threats. but the threat, unbeknownst to him, is much farther away.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">and despite dave’s quick and well-justified action, what is also unbeknownst to him is that the sniper no longer poses a threat of pulling that trigger. because everyone knows that for all of the prince’s shortcomings, he would never expose his beloved brother and son to the risk of a heroic death.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re absolutely right. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I would never do that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’d never kill Dave, no matter what I felt the stakes were. I’d never hurt him either. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You do understand me pretty well, I’ll give you that. And you’re right about many things.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But there are just a couple things you’re wrong about.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Pretty important things, actually.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">and what would those things be?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: First of all, this gun is loaded.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But not with bullets.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">the prince reveals this relatively uninteresting piece of information as he looks through the scope. the crosshairs overlap dave’s chest, completely obscuring the view of jake. we suppose that the prince means the weapon is loaded with tranquilizer darts. it would after all be a fitting callback to the manner in which he subdued jake at an earlier moment. a fair enough way to bypass the immortality of his target, rendering jake inactive long enough to serve his purpose. his finger hovers over the trigger as he considers whether he can pull off two tranquilizing shots at dave and then jake in quick succession, before he is stopped. it certainly would be a risk to even try. but as the humans say: no guts, no glory.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes. You’re right about the tranquilizer.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But there’s one more fact you’re not aware of. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Which is that I never intended to aim for Jake at all.</p>
    </div>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hellooooooo</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dave??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whered ya go</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">roxy yells into the phone, but dave continues guarding jake, pausing for a moment their critical discussion of human gender. meanwhile, the prince lowers the rifle, and strongly reconsiders the foolishness he has initiated here.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: No, that’s not what he does.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He swings the rifle around one hundred eighty degrees, and points the scope toward the large, now-curtainless window of a distant apartment. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He zooms in quickly, cutting even shorter the little time that the Dead Cherub could use to impede him in some way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He takes aim, lets his finger hover over the trigger, and...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">his finger tenses up, quite painfully. perhaps it’s a cramp? whatever the malady, it isn’t budging. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Ow! </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, you got me. Can’t move it an inch.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The only problem is, he doesn’t need to pull that trigger.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Earlier, when he was messing around with all this shit in plain view, he rigged the rifle to be voice-operated.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: All he needs to do is say...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he doesn’t say it.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk" style="margin:15px 0"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Oh, but he DOES.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: FIRE.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">...  </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I see. So you’re not going to say what happens next?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Is that really how it’s gonna be?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: So be it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The tranquilizer dart hits the glass of Roxy’s apartment window before the sound from the rifle’s shot even reaches them. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She hears the glass break. Seconds later, she hears the bang. She drops her phone on the floor.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She doesn’t have the slightest idea what just happened until she looks over at Jade and notices the dart stuck in her neck, right in the jugular vein. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She watches as Jade’s huge, creepy black eyes start getting heavy. Her eyelids sag, and her head tilts to the side.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She shuts her eyes completely. Her hair stops floating around her ominously. In fact, there’s nothing ominous about her at all anymore. She entirely resumes her status as the cute doggy girl we all know and love. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She slumps over and collapses onto the couch. She begins snoring loudly while making a little canine whimper on each exhale. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Like the bitch she is.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="type-sm type-hs-small--md">it seems uncalled-for to insult her after this little stunt you just pulled. what did she do that was wrong?</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh, what’s that? You’re getting a little quiet for some reason.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re going to have to speak up.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="type-hs-small type-bs--md">this is not the last you’ll be hearing from me, prince.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Aaand, nope.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re getting quieter, not louder. You’re gonna need to work on that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Maybe try shouting it?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">soon, i will be coming for you.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, I didn’t catch that at all.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Not even one syllable.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Guess that’s it for you? Back to not mattering.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Not that you ever did.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Come to think of it, why am I still talking out loud?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">That’s more like it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Roxy drops to her knees by the couch, pulls the dart out of Jade’s neck, and tries to shake her awake. But it’s no use. That’s a heavy dose I gave her. Could be out for weeks. Maybe months? Can’t have any cherubs messing with my business on this planet. At least not until I’ve taken my leave. But Jade’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry about that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">That was interesting though. Cherubs are fuckin’ weird, I’ll totally concede. Still not sure what makes them tick. What they idealize, what they really want. It all comes across to me as a little cloying. Perfection to them is a sweetness beyond comprehension. Sugar so potent it’s poison to us. To our bodies, to our souls. Like the place she was operating from was a realm of self-construction. A bubble of pure, phantasmal confection.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Well, I for one have had enough of that goddamn toothache. I’m back in the protein saddle, motherfuckers. I’m clacking my tongs, and the charcoal is hot.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Now who’s hungry for <em>meat?</em></p></div>
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  "33": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE SIX</h2>
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/meat_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            33
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">S</span>peaking of meat, holy shit. You just look more fucked up every time we come back to you, don’t you, John? </p>
    <p class="dirk">You’re a disgraceful mess right now. Covered in blood, mysteriously sticky, bruised all over your arms, legs, and neck. Terezi practically raked rows into your back. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror. You’re kind of embarrassed by what a postcoital train wreck you look like when all she’s got is mussed hair. And you should be embarrassed. Seriously, it’s like you were mauled by a wild animal. Jesus, don’t either of you have any shame?</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m kidding, of course. I’m the last person to criticize a little power play in the bedroom. I just didn’t expect you to be the kind of person who was into that sort of thing.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You <em>were</em> into it, right?</p>
    <p class="dirk">You’re not sure. You feel weird. Shaky and numb, exposed like a grape with the skin peeled off. You pull your hoodie over your bandaged chest, and rub the side of your face where she backhanded you during the backseat fracas. Just once. That’s a blackrom thing, right? This, all this, it was a blackrom thing, right? You’re like a broken cup glued back together, wondering if Terezi actually like-likes you, or if you’ve just infinitely cucked yourself into the one quadrant you like the least. </p>
    <p class="dirk">You’re feeling something for her too, but it’s on a whole other planet from where she is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi doesn’t make eye contact with you when she slithers back into her shirt. She rolls down the window and floats outside.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL? COM3 ON</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You sit together on the hatch, like when you first met up days ago. Terezi crawls into your arms, and nuzzles right up against your chest so you have no choice but to hold on to her. You would have done it anyway if she asked, because you’re a total sap. The kind of guy who no doubt thinks banging a girl in a car is some deep, soul-shattering experience that bonds you for life. Yeah, John, you do think that. You think that you and Terezi are basically married now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 G1V3 UP</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. don’t do that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, i’m not suddenly going to be ok with you dying here alone just because of, uh... what we just did.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She elbows you gently, and snorts into your neck. You think that’s one of the most amazing sounds you’ve ever heard. Objectively though, it’s a horrendous sound. Like a sound a pig makes when you’re not looking, so you can’t quite tell if it was snorting or farting. But for some reason, the little noise gives you palpitations. Holy shit, dude, you’ve got it bad.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO 1D1OT</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 G1V3 UP ON VR1SK4</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi says this like someone announcing they’ve lost their faith in God. And comparing Vriska to God sounds about right to me, since by now they’re both approximately just as fake, seeing as I replaced the latter, and the former fucked off into that black hole a little earlier, never to be seen again. Can’t say I feel too broken up about it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But <em>you</em>, John, feel extremely sad. Not for Vriska, but for Terezi. You run a comforting hand up and down her arm. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: come home with me.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: C4N W3 3V3N GO HOM3?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Can you? You’re so, <em>so</em> tired. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: um, i don’t know actually.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... i don’t know if i can use my retcon powers right now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m so...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You feel the same way you did at the end of your battle with Lord English. One foot out of reality already. Like you could close your eyes and sleep forever.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But you can’t yet, John. Try a little harder to stay awake. You can rest soon.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You wake up, with your back flat on the car trunk, Terezi shaking you and looking genuinely frantic. You didn’t even realize you fell asleep. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let me take a nap, ok?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then i’ll take us home.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 DONT TH1NK TH4TS 4 GOOD 1D34 JOHN</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She used your first name three whole times in a row. Wow. It’s truly pathetic how happy that makes you. But it gives you the energy to push yourself into a sitting position. You rub your face and realize that you’ve lost your glasses. You feel so awful that you didn’t even notice how blurry everything looks without them. You grope for Terezi’s hand and get her thigh instead.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: hold on to me, ok.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no matter what happens... don’t let go.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4R3 YOU SUR3 YOU C4N DO 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, but...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You won’t know if you don’t try. So you give it everything you’ve got. </p></div>
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  "34": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            34
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">S</span>peaking of giving it everything you got, here comes Jake McGee, about to pop his pistols off in front of a whole crowd of Karkat’s progressively prismatic proletarian partisans.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Okay, let’s strike that bit of alliteration from the record. I don’t know what came over me. I probably just made the mistake of getting too close to the gaping black hole that radiates pure asininity from the space between Jake’s ears. His event horizon of buffoonery has the dual effect of making everything around him slightly lamer while sucking unsuspecting victims into wanton sexual indiscretions, which, if you’re very lucky, you’ll be too drunk to even remember. But, well, look at him: how can you <em>not</em> fuck this guy? I mean, I’m never going to fuck him again, but I bet there’s a good chance that <em>you</em> want to. Don’t even try to say you don’t, cause no one’s buying it. After all, that’s what this entire election is about to boil down to—decisions made based on the primal fuckability of the dumbest asshole on Earth. </p>
    <p class="dirk">The crowd is all in a tizzy waiting for Jake to sashay his famous ass back up to the podium. It was quite melodramatic, that little assassination fakeout I staged. It might have even inadvertently jumped the Vantas campaign in the polls. Of course, I’d never do something so stupid as turn Karkat Vantas into a martyr. God, could you imagine? The last time some incompetent asshole with his blood color bumbled his way into a tragically symbolic death, the entire troll race spent half a millennium stroking themselves off to it until they were convinced hearing the word “fuck” could trigger spontaneous enlightenment. No thanks. Jake’s going to put an end to Karkat’s political career with the level of gravitas it deserves—all the pomp and circumstance of a wet fart.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Here comes the man of the hour. He stops at the base of the stage. Adjusts his bow tie. Rolls the hemline on his shorts up another notch to show off the top quarters of his finely tuned and greased vastus lateralis muscles. He slides the endorsement speech Dave has so considerately prepared for him out of his front pocket. I let him read it over one more time even though there’s nothing in the universe that could possibly matter less.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yo </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sure you still want to do this</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH. IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO CALL IT OFF.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BY WHICH I MEAN THIS ENTIRE FUCKING COMEDY OF ERRORS THAT DAVE PREPOSTEROUSLY INSISTS ON CALLING A “CAMPAIGN.” </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR HOW ABOUT THE ELECTION ITSELF? WE CAN PUT THE KIBOSH ON THAT TOO IF YOU WANT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF YOU’RE FEELING UNCOMFORTABLE JAKE, JUST SAY THE WORD. WE’LL STICK A PRONGSHOVEL IN THE WHOLE DEAL AND GO HOME.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave elbows him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR. YOU KNOW. JUST YOUR SPEECH.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dont be daffy chaps. If i were the sort of man to balk at a bit of hot potato in the evening i wouldnt be where i am today!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave and Karkat exchange a <em>look</em>. They don’t stop him, though, because a plan is a plan. Jake spins on his heel and goes swaggering up toward the podium, grinning cheek to cheek at the familiar sound of a crowd chanting his name. He sets his speech down and smooths out the paper only to find his hands swamped with sweat.</p>
    <p class="dirk">What’s that, Jake? You didn’t notice your hands were sweating until now? Not surprising considering how overtaxed your precious few neurons are at any given time.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I... I... er hallo folks dandy weather were having here isnt it.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jake’s hands are so sweaty they’ve smeared the words in the speech beyond recognition. He begins to panic.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Er... thank you... everyone for coming out on this benjo of a day to um... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Do whatever it is that weve all congregated to do!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">At the bottom of the stage, Karkat and Dave put their heads together in adorably platonic conspiratorial kinship. Karkat whispers directly into the shell of Dave’s ear. I don’t even have to direct him to do that, it’s just his natural inclination to practically stick his tongue straight to the center of Dave’s skull, while practicing a bit of perfectly harmless, nonsexual, intimate close-talking. Jesus, if I have to watch one more minute of this beta-bitch calamity I’m going to fucking dissipate on an atomic level.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT IS HE DOING? I SAW HIM REREAD THE SPEECH.)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (yeah)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (idk he does this public speaking shit every day maybe this is just how he warms a crowd up)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (lets give him a... hm)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (DAVE?)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (ARE YOU OK.)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (oh im fine)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (for a moment something felt... off?)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (AGAIN???)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT, IS THE ASSASSIN GOING TO TAKE HIM OUT AFTER ALL???)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (no its not that)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its wonderful to see such a jammy cornucopia of supporters!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By golly the lot of you sure are enthusiastic about that karkat chap.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Which means that we potentially have a few things in common since ive come here to...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: To... to... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ive come to... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jake tugs at collar. It feels tight, suddenly. He’s dripping buckets down under his suspenders. Dark patches are starting to form on his dress shirt. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Rather that is to say,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: In delicate times such as these,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Even though usually its a toffer of a bad idea to talk politics in public,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Today we have all most certainly gathered here,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: T-to have what is definitely a political conversation.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Y-yes that d-does seem to... be the lay of the land.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Th-that ive come here to... tell you all about my political opinions... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Which I will get to um shortly and with er minimal... verbal bricabrac... </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: B-because I—</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He’s trembling so hard he begins to worry that the crowd can hear it, like the sound of somebody shaking a soda can filled with coins. He goes pale as the depravity of what he’s about to do hits him like an eighteen-wheeler. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ive... made a terrible mistake.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Hey, Jake. Don’t undersell yourself here. You’ve made <em>several</em> terrible mistakes, especially as of late. One might even say that you’ve made a <em>shit ton </em>of them, and that’s just this fucking week. Or, if you’d prefer, a rusted jalopy stuffed to the whirlygigs with gum feculence, or whatever inept combination of archaic word garbage will help underline the sheer level of personal failure you’ve managed to achieve.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Why don’t you have a good, long think about that, Jake.</p>
    <p class="dirk"><em>Is this really the time for a good, long think?</em> Jake muses to himself, actually putting a finger to his chin like some public domain clip art picture of a befuddled guy. If the crowd is confused by his rapid-cycle mood changes, they don’t show it. Jake’s got a bit of a day-drinking problem, which has been slavishly documented in the global tabloids. That’s how you avoid responsibility, isn’t it, Jake? You can fool your fans, but not yourself. The truth is that there’s a canniness to the act. It’s partially <em>cultivated</em>. You’re stupid, but you’re not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What in the devil was i thinking coming here?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why did I...?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I came here to...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">... slide the biggest knife any motherfucker ever wielded directly into your friend Jane Crocker’s back?</p>
    <p class="dirk">She loves you, Jake, more than anything, and you toyed with her heart. And you would have guiltlessly toyed with her “kettle drums” too had it not been for a bit of <em>divine intervention</em>, let’s decide to call it. </p>
    <p class="dirk">But wait, you’re thinking. Wasn’t Jane merely executing a cold-blooded maneuver to rein you into the stable of her campaign using her body? How are you the bad guy here? </p>
    <p class="dirk">That’s true, she was trying to do that. But come on—she is <em>ever so much</em> less experienced than you in these matters, Jake, and without certain invisible guardrails in place to prevent it, she would have thrown herself at you again and again with wide-eyed, girlish wonder.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Or at least, that’s what you like to believe. That people can’t resist you. That you have no responsibility for their feelings. That everyone uses <em>you</em>. That<em> you’re</em> the victim. Yes, it’s <em>so unfair </em>that anyone in this universe or the last has ever had a single expectation of Jake English. Why should anyone respect your personal autonomy when you’re practically begging to be taken advantage of?</p>
    <p class="dirk">So tell me, Jake: which one of us is <em>really</em> the bad guy here?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jake begins to tear up. He wipes his eyes with what he thinks is a subtle and manful feint, but everyone in the crowd sees what’s up. He’s trembling, feeling small and naked and raw, like new flesh after a scab’s been pulled away.</p>
    <p class="dirk">He’s scared. He’s <em>been</em> scared. He’s been running from this feeling his entire life, all because he was so pants-shittingly terrified of being in love with Dirk Strider. And why wouldn’t he be afraid? He knows what will happen when he finally admits it. Knows deep down that to truly love Dirk would be to submit to him. That’s a scary thought. It takes a certain degree of mental fortitude to admit that you love someone so intensely it could subsume your entire personality.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But Jake can see now that it’s simply how things were meant to be. There are leaders in this world, and there are followers, which is a fact that has absolutely nothing to do with the position one prefers in the bedroom. Jake can’t believe he’s wasted years denying something so elemental to his nature that it might as well be on the periodic fucking table.</p>
    <p class="dirk">He braces his shaking hands on the podium and tries to catch his breath. His mouth is filling with saliva, much like it does when he’s about to throw up. Or when he’s desperately, devastatingly aroused. Jake, are you <em>aroused </em>in public, thinking about your ex? And in such tight shorts.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Sorry, I’m overdoing it. That should be enough. Dude’s about to pop off. The words erupt from his mouth like a tragic, Dirkthirsty Vesuvius: </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: <em>I love dirk!</em></p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: <em>IM IN *LOVE* WITH DIRK!!!</em></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">And to love Dirk is to obey him.</p>
    <p class="dirk">What would Dirk want him to do in this situation? Definitely not sell out his good and dear friend Jane for a loudmouthed pipsqueak who noisily transcends failure even as he redefines it. Do good by her, Jake. Do good by <em>me</em>.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (oh jesus fucking christ)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Boy howdy...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Umm.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Sorry about the hiccup there folks.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (HICCUP???)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (smfh)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ive been dealing with some personal issues as of late and was momentarily distracted.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But nevermind that. I know what youve all come here today to hear.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: There has been quite a ruckus in the press these last few weeks concerning the subject of the election and more importantly where i stand on the candidates.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So today id like to set the record straight,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: On that matter,</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: As well as all other matters.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You see</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: *takes a deep breath*</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (oh no)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: (is he about to do what i think he is)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT??)</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: (WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING???)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat whips his head around and sees Dave bolt toward the stage, his palm outstretched to stop Jake from doing what he thinks he’s doing. He’s fast, but not fast enough.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jake opens his big, dumb mouth to make the only important contribution to the plot he ever has or ever will make in his whole sad, pointless joke of a life.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I—</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Having said that, it’s not like we’re going to sit around and listen to any more words come out of his mouth than we strictly need to. Christ Almighty, what are we, masochists? Nah, that’s enough of that. Let’s see what John’s up to.</p></div>
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            35
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>ou zap back to Earth C with the last of your energy. And I do mean last. You place your first foot on the ground, stumble forward three steps, and cough up blood. Terezi has to catch you under your arms, but you’re already going translucent around the edges. Your skin is cooling to the touch. The poison is coursing through your blood so furiously it’s making your veins feel like cords.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi can tell you’re dying. She’s not in great shape herself, but she manages to tug you to your feet.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN COM3 ON</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: L3TS G3T YOU TO J4N3</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You try to remember if you’ve ever been revived by Jane before. You honestly can’t recall. So much shit has happened. Maybe?</p>
    <p class="dirk">It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a wound you can recover from. It’s Game Over this time: no healing, no afterlife, no cosmic clock proclaiming your sacrifice as Heroic. The poison needling through you is antithetical to narrative relevance. You’re not dying, John. You’re being erased. Cherubs don’t fuck around. We’ve both been learning that the hard way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I guess it’s tragic, though maybe not in the conventional sense. My view is, the real tragedy with you, John, is that you never mattered all that much. To those on the level of the cherubs, and now my level as well, you were never all that special, despite the critical role you played. You were just a middling glob of human glue used to seal one glaring gap left in canon. A simple tool to be wielded by a mechanic whose consciousness has risen high enough to see the machine for what it is. Your complete lack of remarkability, specific motivation, drive, opinion on where to direct your own fate—these deficiencies are exactly what made you so useful, so susceptible to being endowed with the you-ness I’ve borrowed to satisfy my purposes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You slip from Terezi’s grip and face-plant into the grass. You hitch an elbow beneath yourself so you can roll over onto your back. You want to see the sky.</p>
    <p class="dirk">What was it that you thought when you went home, John? Back to your real home? That the sky here is too bright? That it looks like someone nudged the contrast a couple degrees in the wrong direction? How does it look now?</p>
    <p class="dirk">You close your eyes against the light.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think it... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: m-matters.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t think... this is a wound jane can fix.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT B3 R1D1CULOUS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi, f-for once in my life...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m being serious, ok...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: as s-soon as i got bit... i was dead.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: even before that...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was dead the moment i...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: woke up that morning. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Well, that’s a little melodramatic. Not quite, John.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You died the moment you made the decision to go meet your destiny. You would have lived if you made the other decision, under a certain definition of the word “living.” You might have even lived until the end of your immortal life span, as shitty as that sounds. The objective reality of that life might be in dispute by some of the more pedantic canonistas out there. The outspoken sophists when it comes to what “counts” and what doesn’t. They know who they are. But whatever kind of life in a bubble you’d be living, at least you’d still be breathing in it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">That was the actual choice Calliope was giving you that day. That’s why she looked so sad when you decided to fight Lord English, even though you knew both then and now that it was the only choice you possibly could have made.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It was, John. This will be the best outcome for everyone. I promise.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hey, come here.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi kneels at your side. She doesn’t do anything sappy like take your hand, though. Mostly because she knows how this is going to go, and doesn’t want to experience the tactile sensation of feeling your pulse slow under her palm.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve got, um...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: dying words to say and stuff.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R34LLY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: “DY1NG WORDS”</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH MY GOD 3GB3RT, YOU R34LLY 4R3 TH3 L4M3ST P3RSON WHO H4S 3V3R L1V3D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH1S 1SNT 4 MOV13 YOU COMPL3T3 DUMP4SS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUR3 DY1NG 4ND YOU WONT 3V3N L3T M3 H3LP YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you... crying?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She wipes her eyes and nods.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i can’t believe it...</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 R3S3NT TH3 1MPL1C4T1ON TH4T 1 WOULD PR3T3ND TO B3 UN4FF3CT3D BY YOUR D34TH 4FT3R W3 H4D 4N 3MOT1ON4LLY S1GN1F1C4NT S3XU4L 3NCOUNT3R 1N TH3 B4CK OF TH3 FOUR WH33L D3V1C3 ONC3 B3LONG1NG TO YOUR D34D HUM4N LUSUS</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heh... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess even after all that, i’m... still a little intimidated by you, huh?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ST1LL?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... you have black feelings for me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i... i just can’t feel stuff like that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m just a human after all.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: JOHN 1... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s ok.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m glad that... i got to be with you... even if it was just for a little while.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: do you... mind if i say something st... stupid?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: potentially... even multiple stupid things?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WOULD YOU ST1LL S4Y TH3M 3V3N 1F 1 S41D NO?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: p... probably.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3N 1LL B3 YOUR D34THS1D3 CONF3SSOR</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: S4Y 4LL OF TH3 STUP1D TH1NGS JOHN </p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 W1LL R3M3MB3R TH3M FOR YOU</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow... that actually sounded kinda... romantic?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She doesn’t confirm or deny the intent of her statement. She cries quietly, and waits for you to say whatever dumb shit is rattling around in your poison-addled mind. There’s a chilly breeze rolling in from the mountains. It rustles through the trees, breaking the perfect silence of an autumn afternoon.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You try to touch her face, but you can barely see now. You miss, and lovingly caress the air instead. Your hand lands back on your chest. You feel blood soaking through your shirt. You’re bleeding again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh man... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: now that i’m on the spot... i can’t think of anything significant to say.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i always hoped that if i was in this position... i’d have something really awesome and memorable to say... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like nic cage would.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: if he died.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT WORRY, 1LL T3LL 3V3RYON3 YOU S41D SOM3TH1NG R34LLY COOL</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: would you... really do that for me?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU W4NT M3 TO</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t... i don’t think anyone will believe you.</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO TH3Y W1LL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 PROM1S3 1LL W4TCH 3V3RY SH1TTY MOV13 YOU L1K3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND F1ND JUST TH3 R1GHT STUP1D FUCK1NG QUOT3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SOM3TH1NG TH4T NOBODY WOULD 3V3R DOUBT JOHN 3GB3RT WOULD US3 4S H1S F1N4L WORDS</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TH3YLL B3L13V3 1T, TRUST M3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1LL *M4K3* TH3M B3L13V3 1T</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ah... haha...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: terezi you know... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think... i really lo—</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i... r-really lov—</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3 FUCK1NG D13 ON M3 1N TH3 M1DDL3 OF 4 LOV3 CONF3SS1ON!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 FORB1D 1T!!!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but... i...   </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Then John dies in the middle of a love confession. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi leans closer, then holds perfectly still. She tilts her ear toward him and sniffs once. There, she can hear it. The slow seeping of blood, like a distant stream. The scent of his life leaving his body, strangely unmistakable, like the quality of the air before it rains. She listens to him bleed while she smells him die.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi presses her ear to his chest and confirms that his heart has stopped. Her tears dry up at that. She’s so devastated she can’t even fucking cry. What is she supposed to do now, when John was the one who asked her to come back to this place? Would she ever have had any intention of returning if it weren’t for him? She doesn’t know anymore. She remembers his voice, so earnest and friable, asking her over and over again to come home. In multiple realities, all he wanted for her was this. To be home safe, with all their friends. And now that she’s here, she’s lost.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Legs shaking, she gets to her feet and takes a whiff of the horizon. Where the fuck am I, she thinks. How do I just get on with <em>living</em> here after everything that just happened?</p>
    <p class="dirk">That’s definitely a fair question. But I have one that’s much more important for her to answer.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi, are you <em> seriously</em> just going to leave the body here?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HUH?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Of course not. Terezi’s a practical girl, after all. She digs the wallet out of her blood-stained pants, and captchas the corpse. She holds it close to her heart, like a secret. Like John’s stupid last words: a confession whispered for her and no one else.</p>
    <p class="dirk">And then she starts walking home.</p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            36
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">S</span>o it turns out that “home” is an entirely abstract concept. A state of mind, if you will, rather than a literal, physical construct that can make you feel one way or the other. Terezi’s been gone long enough that her friends seem like strangers: entangled in relationship dynamics that she’s obliquely excluded from, embroiled in petty feuds, obsessed with politics. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Oh, do you want to know how those petty feuds and political obsessions turned out by the way? I thought it was pretty obvious, but I’ll say what’s up anyway.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Jane swept the election, of course. I told you I was going to win. After Jake’s incoherent and scandalous heel-turn at Karkat’s ill-fated rally, no amount of esoteric, three-dimensional jpeg artefacts could have salvaged the Vantas campaign. Besides, Dave and Karkat now have other concerns. Mainly that their BFF Jade has been in a coma for an entire month. They’ve been in and out of the hospital handling her affairs. Her next of kin is listed as John Egbert, and no one’s seen him in ages. It’s like he just disappeared suddenly. Like some great hand came out of the sky and crossed his name off the big list of guys we ever need to give a shit about anymore. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Terezi heard about Jade from a rather harried Kanaya, who is doubtlessly run ragged from the hot-potato plot circles that I’ve been sending her on for weeks to stop her from reading me the riot act for “kidnapping” her lovely wife. The woman is obviously hysterical and needs to chill the fuck out. I mean, she’s hysterical because I’ve been specifically and deliberately causing her to be that way, sure. But still. She should be fine soon enough.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It takes Terezi a couple days to work up the...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">The <em>what</em>, exactly? What is she supposed to be feeling right now? I’m not sure myself. Maybe I should take a minute to think about the thing you’re supposed to feel when someone goes through whatever the hell it was she just went through. If I come up with any ideas, I could easily do her the favor of helping her feel it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Whatever it is she’s supposed to feel, what she actually feels is empty. Colorless, dried up, as she walks beneath a holographic billboard displaying Jane’s glorious victory speech. The ceremony accompanying the speech is patently absurd, stuffed with so much pomp and circumstance that Terezi’s nose can’t make sense of what she’s supposed to be looking at. It’s all just light and color, signifying nothing. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Her internal smelloscope is so discombobulated from the onslaught of pastry-themed floats, and Jane’s tearful soliloquy on the Legacy of Responsibility she is about to inherit, that she mistakes the familiar figure standing in front of the hospital for someone else entirely.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H3Y COOLK1D</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: HOWS J4DE DO1NG</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy turns around and blinks in confusion. Terezi blinks back. Kanaya had warned her that Roxy had been going through some changes, but this still takes her by surprise.</p>
    <p class="dirk">So, in her defense, this was an honest mistake to make. Dave gets half of his genetics from Roxy, after all, and since her big heart-to-heart about the personal politics of queer onion metaphors, and ten stages of galaxy-braining through the many vicissitudes of the phrase “no homo,” Roxy has decided to really step up her gender experimentation. I guess at this point she’s gone beyond Stage Ten. Which I imagine is somewhat like reaching Super Saiyan 2 of gender, and then going even further beyond.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She’s got the Shades™ now, and sports one of those sweep-over hipster cuts Dave loves so much. Nothing ambiguous about this presentation, although if I’m being totally real, it’s a bit derivative. Anyway, I can’t complain too much about her decision to crib the Strider style, since, you know. She’s family. Besides, I’m T-minus ten hours from fucking off this gay Earth forever. It’s her life, her gender, her style—she can be whatever the fuck she wants.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Roxy’s whole face lights up when she sees Terezi.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg terezi i didnt know u were back!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what UP???</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH ROXY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UH H1</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 THOUGHT YOU W3R3 D4V3</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: o lmao that makes sense</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i thought for a minute u were appreciating my rad new look</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but i know i got a ways to go b4 i dethrone the original coolkid</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO NO YOUR3 V3RY COOL!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1N F4CT 1 WOULD PROB4BLY V3NTUR3 TH4T 1F W3 W3R3 JUDG1NG COOLN3SS 1N 4 FORM4L COOLN3SS CONT3ST JUDG3D BY TH3 PROS, ON 4 COMPL3T3LY OBJ3CT1V3 B4S1S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU 4R3 4CTU4LLY 4BOUT 4 B1LL1ON T1M3S COOL3R TH4N D4V3</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wow thx!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH1CH 1S 4 F4CT TH4T S33MS SO OBV1OUS TH4T 1V3 D3F1N1T3LY KNOCK3D S3V3R4L R4NKS OFF MY OWN P3RSON4L COOLN3SS 4TTR1BUT3 BY 3V3N S4Y1NG 1T OUT LOUD, R4TH3R TH4N 4LLOW1NG 1T TO B3 4SSUM3D</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol no WAY</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: terezi ur like the raddest chick i know</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi’s jaw tightens. She’s not ready to hear any words that remind her of those few hours with John. Her hand goes to her pocket, where she’s keeping the wallet. She traces the contours of it with her thumb and forces a smile.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1F YOU S4Y SO</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um yeah i fuckin DO say so</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dont make me repeat myself</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy seems almost effusive despite the circumstances. An earthy, genuine effusiveness that lights her up from inside. Terezi’s head is filled with stories about a different version of Roxy—the polar opposite of the one standing in front of her. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so....</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ur here to see jade huh??</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 H34RD WH4T H4PP3N3D TO H3R 4ND THOUGHT 1 SHOULD COM3</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: W3LL YOU KNOW</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Pay respects? No, that’s dumb. Terezi knows that’s dumb. This is just a motion you go through. John would definitely want to be here, though, and technically Terezi is taking him with her. He may be in her pocket, but lately she’s been feeling more like he’s under her skin. She hasn’t told anyone what happened. But at least she knows she can look at him whenever she wants. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeaaa</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its lookin grim</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: on one hand shes just layin there so theres not rly a chance of her doin anything either evil or heroic to off herself permanently</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but its also been so long its like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is she just gonna sleep forever???</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: SL33P1NG FOR3V3R D3F1N1T3LY SOUNDS L1K3 4 J4D3 MOV3 TO M3</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah lol i feel bad crackin jokes about it but</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think its what shed want</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: us havin hope n all</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: ...3R</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH3R3S C4LL1OP3?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOU TWO 4R3 ST1LL</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: TOG3TH3R?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: R1GHT</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um GAWD</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: some of it is like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: weird and violent??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: nudity????</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: &gt;:?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah yikes</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so it was hard as hell to convince them to let me come see jade at all</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its like theyre traumatized</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and they think ill drag whatever possessed jade back into our home with me</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: DO3S C4LL13 KNOW WH4T H4PP3N3D TO J4D3 TH3N?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe idk</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im not gonna push them </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: callies got all kinda hang ups about their existence and purpose and potential lack thereof </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: when theyre ready to talk about it i want them to be able to talk about it u know?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y3S</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1T DO3S SOUND L1K3 PUSH1NG TH3M WH3N TH3YR3 VULN3R4BL3 W1LL JUST B4CKF1R3 </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi startles a bit when her phone buzzes. Who would even be messaging her now, when the only person she ever talked to is currently dead in her other pocket? She’s intrigued, but she thinks better of worrying about it. It’d be rude to look at her phone while she’s in the middle of a conversation. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh that reminds me!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: have u seen john lately?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi’s heart skips a beat. It’s almost as if Roxy is the one reading her mind.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WHY DO YOU 4SK</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">No one else has asked yet. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Roxy gives a shrug. A conflicted look crosses her face, but I can’t see past it. With the Dead Cherub out of the picture, the aura of void surrounding Roxy once again is impenetrable. Those baller shades aren’t exactly improving my odds of reading her, either. I’ll say again what I’ve always felt about her on some level: some riddles were never meant to be solved.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: he went back to the medium a while ago right??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i thought</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe u and he crossed paths</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Terezi does not flinch. Her pleasant expression does not falter. She’s good at the appearance of confidence even when wracked with indecision and grief.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NO</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: I H4V3NT S33N H1M</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh....</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: damn thats too bad</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: callie n i have been worried</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: kinda hoped he woulda come back</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: or at least let us know what hes up to</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ugh between this and whats goin on with jade the lack of closures gonna keep me up at night</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1M SORRY</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 W1SH 1 KN3W WH4T TO T3LL YOU</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey its fine</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u cant fix everyones problems</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 KNOW</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Roxy pinches her lips together and examines Terezi over the rim of her sunglasses for a moment.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Maybe, having watched her own friend group suffer stress fractures recently, she understands the weight of those words as uttered by this specific person. Because Terezi is a fixer, and it has been a very difficult lesson for her to learn that some things are simply out of her control. Maybe it’s just that Roxy can hear the bone-deep sorrow in her voice. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: (OMFG)</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: (1TS “H1M” YOU FUCK1NG O4F!!!)</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wat</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: who u loudly whispering to</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OH</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: NOBODY</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Oh, my bad. Why not send him my regards? Tell him he makes a kickass him for me. It suits the hell out of him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: (1M NOT FUCK1NG T3LL1NG H1M TH4T)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Whatever was bothering Roxy, it passes quickly, and he says nothing about it. He puts his hand on Terezi’s shoulder and gives it a warm clap. The fraternal kind, which a couple of solid dudes might exchange after having just “bro’ed out.” It’s convincing, actually. Reasonably authentic, and quite masculine. He’s off to a great start exhibiting the mannerisms associated with his chosen gender. I’m genuinely proud of him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ummm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: kay well i should get goin</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: was nice catchin up!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dont be a stranger alright?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: STR4NG3R TH4N WH4T</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao ur a riot</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but u know what i mean</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: Y34H</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: S33 YOU</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: 8)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">As soon as Roxy’s gone, Terezi regrets lying to him about John. It’s a hard secret to keep, but probably a harder one to reveal. Maybe it would have been better if she <em>had</em> run into Dave instead of Roxy. It would have been easier to confide something like that to Dave, wouldn’t it? Well, <em>maybe</em> it would have been easier. Years ago, in a different timeline. And even then, she messed that up, didn’t she? But we can’t beat ourselves up too much for our teen mistakes. Let alone the stuff we can’t even remember, because it technically never even happened to us. We have enough to worry about as it is, right, Terezi?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: UUUUUUUGH</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I know you can hear me.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: OF COURS3 1 C4N H3AR YOU!!!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: YOUV3 B33N BRO4DC4ST1NG YOUR NONS3NS3 4T M3 NONSTOP S1NC3 JOHN Z4PP3D US B4CK!</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 1 KNOW TH4T 3V3RY M3MB3R OF YOUR F4M1ILY 3XC3PT TH3 ON3 1 JUST H4D 4 PL34S4NTLY BR13F CONV3RS4T1ON W1TH 1S G3N3T1C4LLY 1NC4P4BL3 OF SHUTT1NG UP</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: BUT C4NT YOU JUST L3T M3 B3 D3PR3SS3D 1N P34C3?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I feel depressed all the time. But I can’t remember ever having the luxury of feeling peaceful about it. Why should it be different for anyone else?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU W4NT?!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Come on, Terezi. You don’t belong here. You <em>know</em> you don’t belong here.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: 4ND WH4T TH3 H3LL DO YOU KNOW 4BOUT WH3R3 1 B3LONG?</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU KNOW 4BOUT WH4T 1 “KNOW”??</p>
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H4V3 W3 3V3N H4D 4 S1NGL3 SUST41N3D CONV3RS4T1ON TH4T L4ST3D MOR3 TH4N T3N M1NUT3S???</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">To be honest, I’m not sure if we’ve ever exchanged any words at all. But why should that matter? Here we both are. It’s a beautiful day. You’ve got your dead boyfriend in your wallet. And we’ve already managed to strike such a nice metatextual rapport. So hear me out. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I know that you’ve always felt out of step here on Earth C. I know that you could easily put on a brilliant act that would fool everyone. You could potentially do that for the rest of your life. But it will eat into you, hollow you out like a parasite, because you’ll always refuse to allow yourself to be understood. </p>
    <p class="dirk">You know you’ll never be happy here. And neither will I. Because this place isn’t for people like us.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: D1RK, 1 H4V3 NO 1D34 WH4T YOUR3 T4LK1NG 4BOUT </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You’ll see, if you come with us. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you bring him with you? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="terezi">TEREZI: H1M?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Yeah. You saved his body for a reason, right? Maybe it doesn’t even have to be the end for him. Endings are kind of overrated anyway.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’ll give you some time to think about it. My door is open, but not for long.</p>
    <p class="dirk">And I do give her the time. I ease the throttle back a bit, just enough so that I’m not whispering directly into her ear when she slips the wallet out of her pocket. She clutches it so hard in her palm that she’s digging dents into the leather, and bites her lip. The gentle breeze is all she can hear. It’s louder than my voice, and in some understated way, makes my case for me more persuasively. She knows I’m right. </p></div>
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  "37": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            37
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">W</span>e make a quick stop back at Rose’s apartment. She understandably wants to pack a few things before we leave this planet forever. Not a whole lot, mind you. It’s not like she’ll be needing many clothes from now on.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Oh, come on. Can we keep our minds out of the gutter for more than two fucking seconds? That’s not what I meant. She’ll have to leave her current body soon if she’s going to survive the absolute realization of her Ultimate Self. The new body I’ve made for her won’t have much use for her usual ensembles. That’s all I was saying.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Do you really need all of this crap?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose is sprawled out on her bed, resting. It’s pretty much all she can bring herself to do these days. But in spite of her physically incapacitated state, her stare tracks me intently as I root through her belongings at her behest.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No, I don’t... I don’t need it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But I’d...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’d like to have it. Some of it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Just the important things...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The memories that matter most. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We’re going to make new memories.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We have countless millennia ahead of us. The entire breadth of infinity. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The past seven years on this planet are cosmically irrelevant. When we get where we’re going, you won’t even want to remember this benighted rock anymore.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose opens her mouth to launch into what would surely lead to a belabored and cyclical argument, but she doesn’t have the strength. She groans instead. I know it frustrates her. It frustrates me too. That’s why I want to get out of here as soon as possible. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I let my voice soften.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Rose.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Everything is going to be fine.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But, daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She pleads, affecting an exaggerated whine that sounds unintentionally authentic with how weak she is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Rose has really leaned into this particular line of “irony.” Hamming it up with the dad jokes, as if she derives some bizarre gratification from the fact of our relation. It’s an apparently endless source of amusement to her. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I don’t get it and I don’t really care to speculate. I sigh, and return to picking through her jewelry. The tactic fucking works on me, I guess.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Is this the thing you were talking about? This...this rock rope?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: <em>Rock rope?</em></p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose lifts herself up barely enough to see. The effort to do just that seems to take everything out of her. She collapses heavily after she gets a look at what I’m holding up, huffing in annoyance.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: F-first of all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That... the word for that object is... a “necklace.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Second of all,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Does that... look purple to you?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t... don’t...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Patronize me... while I’m dying.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I can’t make heads or tails of any of this shit. It’s a big pile of shiny garbage.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you come over here and pick out what you want to pack yourself?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I expect at least an aggravated retort, but nothing comes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I glance back and see that her eyes have grown glassy and distant, like two round-cut amethysts. Her smile seems due less to fondness than stupefaction. The circles under her eyes are dark, and her head is cushioned on an arm bent beneath it. Keeping her eyes trained on me seems to be the only energy she’s able to expend anymore. The omniscience sickness is wreaking havoc on her. I should hurry up. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m glad I never had to feel whatever she’s going through. Not everyone can be built like me. It just means I carry a greater responsibility to take care of those more fragile. Especially the ones most important to me.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I go through the motions of picking things out of her drawers. Just grabbing stuff at random, because like I said, it doesn’t matter. </p>
    <p class="dirk">When she next speaks, it seems her mind has wandered. Her voice is as distant as her expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Are you sure Kanaya is going to be ok with this?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I slide a drawer shut, and shove whatever it is I’m holding into the bag without looking.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: There’s no need to worry about that.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How will we break it to her?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re not well enough to stress over this.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You should just let me handle it. I can make her understand.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: What’s happening here is the best thing for everybody.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She’ll come to see that someday.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose breathes in deeply, and exhales. She allows herself to close her eyes, and tries to forget these troubling thoughts of the wife she’s about to leave.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Speaking of which, Kanaya is on her way back to the apartment. She’s blocks away, frantically running in the direction of this building. She’s a pretty fast runner, but she’ll have to run faster than that if she wants to bust in here and cause a scene before we go. She senses she isn’t going to make it up here in time, and slows to a stop. She takes a moment to consider how she’s gonna play this.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She’s beside herself with rage. Her phone is out, poised to call someone. Probably me. But she needs to gather her thoughts and figure out what to say. She knows she’s been played by now. She’s sure of it, and so has to think of exactly what she can say to me to stop this from happening, or if nothing else, delay it long enough to force a confrontation. At least, these are all things she’s telling herself right now.</p>
    <p class="dirk">They’re only thoughts, after all. Things she’s decided she believes, after neurotically parsing certain patterns of behavior from me and her wife. I guess from her ignorant alien position it’s reasonable to be suspicious that something shady is going on. But is it really? Is she sure she’s not misunderstanding something? Could she have misread the signals, or falsely assigned nefarious intent to a perfectly innocent series of events? As her breathing slows, and her calm is gradually restored, suddenly she isn’t so sure. Maybe she’s gotten this wrong all along.</p>
    <p class="dirk">If you want my take, I think she has gotten this wrong all along. That’s right, Kanaya. YOU have been getting this all wrong since the very beginning.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Your head is spinning with doubt now. Why were you running so fast? Why is your heart beating like this? You find a nearby bench on the sidewalk, and sit down to really reflect on this. To question everything you’ve been getting so worked up over. The thing is, what you’re suddenly questioning isn’t so much about whether your suspicions that Rose and I have been sneaking around behind your back are wrong, per se. It’s that you’re starting to wonder if they’re right, but you’ve been the one who was wrong to object.</p>
    <p class="dirk">This revelation hits you like a kick in the chest. It’s heavy, it hurts, but only for a moment. Then you find it’s like a weight is lifting off your shoulders. To finally face the truth. If Rose has been spending more time with me than you, if she’s realizing she resonates more with me due to our natural similarities and finds my presence more rewarding than yours, then what does that say about YOU, Kanaya? Doesn’t it confirm what you’ve always suspected deep down? That as flattering as it was that someone like Rose would give you the time of day, and as nice as that made you feel for as long as she was willing to put up with you, the truth is, on some level, you always understood you were never good enough for her?</p>
    <p class="dirk">Pale green tears are flowing down your face. You have no idea how long you’ve been crying. You just noticed only now, because you’ve finally decided to confront the harsh reality of your marriage. It was always an illusion. You put your face in your hands and sob. The catharsis is relieving, bittersweet. Years of suppressed insecurities melt away. You’re finally free of this. Alone, yes, but free. And so is she. You love her with all your heart, and because of that, you genuinely want what’s best for her. Whatever will make her happy. And knowing this—that truly all you ever hoped for was to help her be happy, to be the best person she could be—it brings you comfort. It quells the grief into a dull ache. One that you’ll be grateful to keep for the rest of your life, because it will always remind you of what you had with her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">The tears have stopped flowing. You feel them drying on your face in the cool breeze. Your eyes are clear and focused. You know what you must do now. There is no crisis. There is nothing in which to intervene. Nothing to stop. You tap your phone, and hold it up to your ear.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Ka... </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Sweet Heart</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya, I’m,</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m so...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Its Okay</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Know Everything</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You... you do?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Understand Whats Going On Now</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Just Want You To Know</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: How Happy You Made Me</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, Kanaya...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Wont Be Long</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Just Need To Say A Couple Things</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: While I Can</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Before I Get Too Emotional About This</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Finally Get It</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Know You And He Belong Together</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Really Hope You Will Both Be Happy</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Wherever Youre Going And Whatever You Decide To Do</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Will Always Be Thinking Of You</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Be Grateful For The Life We Had Together</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’ll always remember you, Kanaya.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Thank you so much for understanding.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I didn’t know how to...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I thought surely you would be...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Rose’s turns her face into the bed, to muffle her sobs. I’m holding the phone up to her ear. I move the phone quickly to follow the movement of her head.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Its Fine Really Sweet Heart</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Love You</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I love you too.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Goodbye Rose</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Before Kanaya hangs up, I quickly bring the phone up to my ear to say a few words.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey Kanaya. Thanks for getting in touch before we take off.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We both really appreciate that.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: S... Sure</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ll take very good care of her.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I promise.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Thank You Dirk</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey one last thing.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Before you head back to the brooding caverns or wherever, think you can do me a favor?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Of Course</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’ve probably heard by now that Jade is sick.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: In a coma or something? She’s in the hospital.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’ve got an antidote for that. Medicine of sorts. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If you give it to her, it should wake her up almost immediately.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I left it here on the counter in your apartment. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You can come pick it up and bring it to her at your leisure.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I See</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes I Can Do That</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Awesome.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, later.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I hang up and toss the phone on the floor. She’ll be here soon, so it’s time to wrap this up. Rose is exhausted. Emotionally, physically, the works. She’s nodding off but struggling to stay awake. She doesn’t want to miss anything important, but there’s nothing left to do here. There’s no reason to put any more strain on her than necessary.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I pull out a syringe full of the same stuff as usual. Worked wonders on Jake, then Jade. Should knock Rose out well enough for the long ride ahead. I inject it in her arm, and her head drops down almost instantly. I pick her up and carry her like a sleeping princess. It slips my mind to bring along her bag of stuff. I walk to the sliding glass door, open it, and we fly away. </p></div>
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE SEVEN</h2>
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    </div>
    <div class="row bg-white bg-light-gray--md pad-b-md pad-b-lg--md pos-r pad-t-md pad-t-0--md">
    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-lg" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">B</span>ut before we get completely out of dodge, there’s one more trifling matter I’d better take care of.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It’s a big day, but not one my dear brotherson and his irascible boywife seem to be relishing. Dave and Karkat are both squatting in their shameful bunker of defeat, all the curtains drawn shut so that the sunlight cannot disturb an atmosphere that was carefully cultivated to facilitate their sourpuss moping.</p>
    <p class="dirk">The only illumination is emanating from their television screen, which broadcasts the bright and sunny scene of Jane’s inauguration. She stands at a podium in front of a crowd of thousands of her adoring fans and subjects, belting out one killer speech. I wrote it, so you know it’s good.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But the mood in here is heavy. I think they’ve been coasting on denial for a while, but today is the day they have to finally accept that there are no take-backs, no do-overs: Jane is the president, and that’s that. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Karkat’s all balled up on the couch as he stares hatefully at the televised production. He doesn’t look up when Dave walks back into the room, carrying two massive bottles of liquor. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: want to get drunk</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Huh.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HUH?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i went and got all this fucking booze</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU *GOT* BOOZE?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah check it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU ACTUALLY WENT AND *GOT* IT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LIKE, YOU LITERALLY LEFT THE HOUSE AND EXCHANGED CURRENCY WITH A REAL, LIVE PERSON TO OBTAIN ALCOHOL.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i walked into the boozery all pigeon toed and embarrassed </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like some fuckin hooch noob</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: was all like yo whats the most pathetic thing you got to drink yourself to death with</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE BOOZERY???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: passed right by the box wine</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the bagged wine</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the shots they put in those little blister packs by the register</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the wine in the little sippy cups with the disposable plastic straws like juice for fucking babies</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i made that last one up i dont actually know anything about alcohol</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway two plastic soda bottles of vodka cooler seems to be about where were at right now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think thats what this is anyway</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont really care long as it gets the job done</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i decided that im an alcoholic now </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I’ve always found inebriation to be distasteful, really. Never understood the personal appeal of it, and after seeing how indelicately its effects have touched the other members of our family, I can’t help but feel like it’s a waste of everybody’s fucking time. I’d have half a mind to tell him to dump it all in the sink, if I weren’t cutting it down to the wire as it is.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But you know what? Go the fuck ahead, bro. Might help him ease those ridiculous inhibitions for once in his life. Slide the stick out of his ass. Maybe slide something else up there instead, if you catch my drift. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself here. At this stage, anything could happen.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave sits beside Karkat on the couch, and sets the alcohol down on the table in front of him. He sinks heavily into the cushioning with a sigh.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HAVE YOU NOW.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its never too late to develop a substance abuse problem</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive been thinking about it for a while and it seems like its time for me to finally get on the wagon of not being on the wagon</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S REALLY GREAT, DAVE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thanks</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anyway hows the inauguration </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you having a good time dwelling on every tiny little factor that cumulatively led to our electoral defeat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and how if just one thing had been different it would have been us up there</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UGH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW NOTHING MATTERED IN THAT CAMPAIGN BUT JAKE’S FUCKING SPEECH.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean, like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i just keep imagining what wouldve happened if that absurd rube goldberg machine of life ruining humiliation had been stopped at any point </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe just being backstabbed by his endorsement alone was something we couldve recovered from with some rigorous counter campaigning</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but what if i had been fast enough to cut him off before hed even said anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if i hadnt accidentally fallen on him on the stage when i was rushing over there to stop him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if he hadnt freaked out like i set off fireworks next to a nam vet and started trying to fucking scrum me </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if id just backed away from his punch with my legs like a normal person instead of warping the flow of time to escape causing him to become so startled he shit his pants</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if i hadnt gotten so visibly grossed out by the smell that even the people watching it on tv could tell what had happened</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if he hadnt started sobbing when the audience in the front rows started throwing up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what if wed had better security and stopped that lady from running onstage during the fracas and announcing that jake has been dodging paying child support for their 3 kids</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like what was the LINE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT WASN’T... *THAT* BAD.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you think</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat falls into a vacant, thousand-yard stare.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah see thats why im an alcoholic now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: want a drink</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I have sympathy, I really do. It’s tough to devote so much time and effort to something, come so close to tasting victory, just to have it snatched out of your grasp at the final instant. I might even feel bad about it in any other circumstance.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But this was how things had to be. It’s better this way. They know that. At least, Karkat certainly does.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IF I’M BEING PERFECTLY FUCKING HONEST</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M GLAD I LOST. I NEVER WANTED TO FUCKING WIN IN THE FIRST PLACE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude come on</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NO, I’M BEING SERIOUS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M NOT EVEN DOING SOME SOUR GRAPES “I NEVER WANTED IT IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE I’M A SORE LOSER TRYING TO DELUDE MYSELF INTO THINKING I DON’T CARE” SORT OF THING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OBVIOUSLY I FUCKING CARE SINCE NOW THE PLANET IS GOING TO BE COMPLETELY RUINED BY THIS JUMPED-UP FASCIST DICTATOR WHO HAS EVERY INTENTION OF GRADUALLY GENOCIDING MY SPECIES INTO NONEXISTENCE BEFORE MY VERY EYES.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT I CANNOT FUCKING THINK OF A SINGLE THING IN THE UNIVERSE I WANTED TO DO LESS THAN BE THE STUPID FUCKING PRESIDENT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THANK HUMAN OBAMA.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait was there a troll obama</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M THE FUCKING TROLL OBAMA, REMEMBER?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you wouldve been so much more than obama</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">God damn if that isn’t the most romantic fucking thing I’ve ever heard.</p>
    <p class="dirk">If Karkat had anything resembling a spine, he’d turn to Dave with those big, sparkling shoujo eyes and finally open his tsundere heart to consummating their painfully obvious and mutually reciprocated passion. But he doesn’t, so he gives a noncommittal little sniff and turns back to the inauguration instead. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Obviously, I’ve got an agenda here. It’s pretty clear to me what these guys want out of this relationship, despite the fact that both of them being bottoms evidently makes it impossible for them to pass whatever last ludicrous psychological obstacle stands between them and nonstop, animalistic fucking. I’ve let it go on like this for long enough. These stooges clearly need some help. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I could insist that they just fucking go for it already, using the methods available to me. I’d rather not. There are certain boundaries I’m not inclined to cross, primarily in service to the emotional integrity of my friends’ respective personal arcs. The little moments like these don’t mean anything if they’re coming from me, do they?</p>
    <p class="dirk">As such, insistence isn’t the tool I’d prefer. Persuasion is the one I reach for. And in a case like this, I can’t imagine it’s going to take that much.</p>
    <p class="dirk">They fall into another silence that’s more comfortable than it has any right to be. The crowd is really going nuts for Jane now, since she’s hit one of the best parts of my speech. She’s just blasting the fuck off about how good the economy’s going to get. I can feel Dave’s teeth grinding all the way down to the narrative fabric of reality.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave reaches out for the booze. It’s past time to get wasted, he thinks.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But Karkat is starting to realize how much all of Dave’s efforts mean to him. It’s really welling up inside him now. He’s so emotional about it that he can’t help but say something. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HEY.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave stops with his arm outstretched. His gaze turns to meet Karkat’s, but Karkat can’t bear to hold the eye contact for long. Looking at Dave is like staring straight at the sun. He is awfully handsome, isn’t he? Then again, crawling out of a primo gene pool does have its benefits.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah buddy whats up</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I JUST... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey dont worry about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you dont have to explain yourself to me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i get it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it makes sense. id always felt the same way kind of</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like about all my shit with sburb and whatever. the reluctant heros journey</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that feeling where youre being dragged along to being a kind of guy everyone is saying you have to be but youve never felt like theres any way you can really BECOME</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: where every second you feel so sick with your own self doubt and fear that you cant bear to even imagine the future</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and you think</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: even though you know it cant be anyone but you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and thats why you do it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lol</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I WASN’T TRYING TO EXPLAIN MYSELF, THOUGH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I JUST WANTED TO THANK YOU.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for what</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat’s eyes drift from the TV to the floor. The slightest of smiles tugs at the corners of his mouth. He feels something warm inside of his chest. It feels right. It’s something he needs to say. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FOR... EVERYTHING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: EVEN IF WE DIDN’T WIN, I’M GLAD WE TRIED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M GLAD WE WENT THROUGH THIS TOGETHER.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: me too</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MORE THAN ANYTHING, I... YOU... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU BELIEVE IN ME IN A WAY NOBODY EVER HAS BEFORE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: MORE THAN I’VE EVER BEEN ABLE TO BELIEVE IN MYSELF.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND I’VE NEVER REALLY... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FELT LIKE THIS BEFORE.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: felt like what </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I MEAN, LIKE</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU KNOW.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE NEVER HAD FRIENDS BEFORE. PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME THEY CARE ABOUT ME, ON SOME LEVEL IT’S HARD FOR ME TO REALLY BUY IT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THEY CAN LIST WHATEVER JUSTIFICATIONS THEY HAVE FOR LIKING ME AND IT ALL FEELS LIKE BULLSHIT. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT’S LIKE, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? YOU CAN’T REALLY EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THIS ABOUT ME.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THERE’S NO WAY YOU ACTUALLY SEE ME THAT WAY. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU JUST FEEL BAD FOR ME. YOU’RE TALKING DOWN TO ME LIKE I’M SOME SORT OF PATHETIC WIGGLER WHO NEEDS TO BE CODDLED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OR YOU’RE JUST IMAGINING I’M WHATEVER WAY YOU WISH I WOULD BE, SOME PERSON WHO’S BETTER AND SMARTER AND STRONGER AND KINDER AND MORE VALUABLE THAN THE PERSON I REALLY AM.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY ANYONE I CARE ABOUT WOULD EVER WASTE THEIR FUCKING TIME ON ME.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT WITH YOU...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat draws a breath and curls up on himself. His instinct is to pull back, but he’s fighting it now. He needs to see this one through to the end.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT WITH YOU, IT MAKES SENSE. I GUESS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING NICE TO ME, I’M LIKE... YEAH? OK?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S COMPREHENSIBLE? I SEE HOW YOU GOT FROM POINT A TO POINT B.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I CAN KNOW YOU THE WAY I DO AND THINK ABOUT WHO YOU ARE AND I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’D WANT SOMEONE LIKE ME BESIDE YOU.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I DON’T HAVE TO WONDER WHAT’S MISSING. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE ON MY LEVEL. AND I’M ON YOURS. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I BELIEVE THAT YOU SEE ME IN FRONT OF YOU THE WAY I ACTUALLY AM, FOR BETTER OR WORSE, AND STILL LIKE ME ANYWAY. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO EVEN THOUGH IT’S STILL HARD FOR ME TO BELIEVE IN MYSELF A LOT OF THE TIME,</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I BELIEVE IN YOU, SO I DON’T NEED TO.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so what youre saying is you believe in me who believes in you </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave. Please.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH, KIND OF?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: FUCK, MAN. THAT’S KIND OF DEEP.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SO, YEAH.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S WHAT I’VE NEVER REALLY FELT BEFORE.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: AND I’M GLAD YOU’RE... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WE’RE... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Come on. You’re so close.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M GLAD YOU’RE MY FRIEND, DAVE. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Oh, for the love of god. </p>
    <p class="dirk">This is practically slapstick at this point. “My friend”????? That was the most excruciatingly overblown and socially maladapted love confession I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing, including my own, and he still managed to fumble it into obscurity at the last moment. The guy was barreling in for an unimpeded touchdown and took a hard left straight into the friend zone.</p>
    <p class="dirk">It’s not like Dave is stupid. He’s picking up on the subtext. It’s just Karkat’s cop-out that’s filling him with doubt. It was a little <em>too </em>obviously sentimental. So obvious that maybe the “friend” thing was a deliberate warning. Maybe relationships aren’t a thing Karkat can really “do.” Maybe if Dave crosses the line he’ll ruin everything. Better this excruciating liminal space, something more than friendship but not quite love, than nothing at all.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I look Dave right in his mind’s eye and tell him to cut it the fuck out. He wants it, you want it, so just go for it, my man. It’s now or never. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: same</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I feel every brain cell in my immortal body begin to perish in real time. Dave, you cannot actually be that bad at this. How the hell are you walking around with my genes and still acting like this? </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Look. Even you can manage to top this guy. You’ve got it easy, dude. He’s gonna open up for you like you just rolled up on a Denny’s at 3 a.m. with all the boys and a Groupon. You can do it right here on the couch if you want. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave scrunches up his face a little like he’s constipated. Okay, maybe I’m getting a bit worked up. I need to dial it back. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS SOMETHING WRONG?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry i just had an absolutely insane train of thought that kind of sent me for a loop</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UHH... WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no its extremely better that i dont tell you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i kind of forgot what we were talking about because it was so awful</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You were talking about Karkat’s feelings? He just dropped some touching-ass bomb about believing in you believing in him or whatever. You should really get to the root of where this is all coming from.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: all that shit you said about us being friends and on the same level or whatever</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah i feel the same way basically</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im not sure that i like... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hm.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Go on.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im kind of getting the feeling that... maybe... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theres a level to what were thinking that isnt entirely coming across in words</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and since we dont have the right words we arent getting to the right actions either</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like maybe we feel the same way about certain things</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but what were saying and what were feeling</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe those arent exactly the same thing </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and maybe... we should... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE SHOULD WHAT?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe its time to</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: talk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: about... that</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Well, I guess this is progress?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah, like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how... when you say were friends</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what... does that mean</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT WE’RE FRIENDS?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah but</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that it?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just friends</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat looks like a deer caught in the headlights. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OF COURSE NOT.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU’RE MY...........</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: B...... </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ......EST FRIEND.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i see</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I’ve literally been decapitated and that was less unbearable than this. I don’t understand it. I just want you to be happy, man. Why can’t you make anything easy for yourself?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok then</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Whatever. I kind of don’t have time for this shit. The gloves are coming off. The anime ninja training weights are history. It’s time to get down to business. </p>
    <p class="dirk">You look into Karkat’s eyes. You see that twinkle? That’s devotion, you unbelievably dense neutron star of a dumbshit. It’s sparkling like a visit from your fairy fuckin’ godmother. That shit is pure and true. A supernova of all your hopes and dreams swirling together like a radially effervescing kaleidoscope of more hot boy peckers than you could ever imagine.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: D... DAVE?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">But you aren’t imagining any peckers other than the one right in front of you. Karkat’s probably quite modest and feminine alien penis is the only one you’ve thought about in years. Suddenly, you can’t even comprehend how it is you’ve gone so long without kissing him. You want to so badly. It would be so easy, and you know he wouldn’t turn you away.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md"> <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">You lift a trembling hand and slowly close the scant distance between you to brush your thumb against Karkat’s cheek. He freezes in place, terrified. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think i</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Karkat’s lips part, his breath held. His eyes are wide with anticipation. He looks beautiful like this, you think. All you have to do is press your mouth to his, and he’ll finally know he’s yours.</p>
    <p class="dirk">You start to lean in. Karkat closes his eyes and relaxes into your hand. He’s ready. It’s happening. It’s FUCKING happening!!!</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuck</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">What? What are you doing? Oh my god. I’m throwing my hands up in the air in the middle of the other shit I’m doing because this sucks just that much.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT’S WRONG?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DID I DO SOMETH—</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i just cant</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it just feels like</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">It feels like nothing, Dave. Don’t worry about it. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what the fuck is going on</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: this feels really off</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: idk</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i just keep having thoughts i know id never think</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Oh, come the fuck on.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m going to have an aneurysm. He’s hearing me but not listening to me. This dude has such a titanium grasp on his own born-again virginity that not even the literal hand of God can compel him to kiss his own goddamn boyfriend. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i have no idea</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im sorry</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Dave pulls away. Karkat looks like he’s about to throw up.<em> I’m</em> about to throw up, if I’m being perfectly honest.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I don’t know what to do at this point. He doesn’t know it’s me, but he’s fighting my influence with every ounce of strength he’s got. If I push any further, things could get messy, epistemologically speaking. I could try more of a backdoor approach and nudge them towards the sauce, but I don’t know if even that would help at this stage. And my timetable for direct physical intervention is fairly limited. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I take a deep breath and get myself under control. My light psychological intrusions may have only made things worse. Invested as I am in the outcome of this encounter, I know forcing their hand would be a mistake.</p>
    <p class="dirk">If Dave passes that threshold not of his own will, it’d be a hollow victory anyway. There’s nothing I can do but settle down, step it back, and trust my boy to bring it home.</p>
    <p class="dirk">The gears are turning in Dave’s head. He knows he stands at a precipice, and what he decides here could mean everything. Maybe that forced kiss seemed wrong, but he knows what he feels doesn’t. He can’t deny that. And he can’t just forget the fact that when he went for it, Karkat wasn’t pulling away.</p>
    <p class="dirk">At the end of the day, he knows what the truth is. Really, he always has.</p>
    <p class="dirk">So what are you going to do about it, Dave? This time, it’s really up to you. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave meets Karkat’s eyes in a rare moment of clarity. It’s then, I think, that they both finally realize what’s been obvious to everyone else all along. With a measured motion, Dave pulls his shades off of his face. </p>
    <p class="dirk">If Karkat was stunned before, he’s even more stunned now. The privilege of a Strider Eye Moment is about the most earth-shattering experience a young man will ever have in his life. For once, neither of them have anything stupid to say. All they have is an electric connection that is no longer possible to ignore. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Dave brings his hand back up to Karkat’s cheek in a gesture much more confident than the last. He’s not rushing anything this time. He’s only doing what feels right, taking it each second at a time.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Karkat’s tension begins to dissipate from his body in stages. His stiff shoulders drop. His guarded expression relaxes. And when he covers Dave’s hand with his own, he’s not shaking at all.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Karkat helps Dave slip his hand from the side of his face around to cup the nape of his neck. It’s a tender, steadying touch. Dave applies only the slightest of pressure to draw him forward, and Karkat follows his lead. </p>
    <p class="dirk">They’re so close that Dave can feel Karkat’s shallow breath ghosting over his skin. Karkat’s eyes are shimmering and wet as they flutter closed, moisture beading in his thick eyelashes. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. All that’s left is just one more step. Just one final inch, and it’s over. </p>
    <p class="dirk">They both move to close the distance at the same time.</p>
    <p class="dirk">There’s a second where both of them freeze like that, still in the intimate contact. Nothing but the warmth of each other’s bodies and the dawning realization of a significant boundary crossed. Dave draws in a sharp breath, lets his lips part and... just... a little more. That’s it. Yes! Wait. Dave, don’t linger. Some lines of stress appear on his face. He’s struggling with something. No. Dave, don’t fucking do this. He’s grinding his teeth, and putting both hands up to his temples. Beads of sweat dot his brow. This is so fucking unreal. Holy shit, Dave, if you so much as—</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST LET ME DO THIS MYSELF!!!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: come here...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He... oh my god. He.</p>
    <p class="dirk">He fucking just... wow. Dave lunges forward and kisses Karkat directly on the mouth. It’s like a dam has burst. Neither of them could hold anything back now even if they wanted to. It’s like... </p>
    <p class="dirk">God damn. I’m sorry. I’m blowing the description here, and missing a lot of good shit. It just caught me so off guard. Dave, my dude. I’m so proud of you. Okay, I can do this. I fucking NEED to do this justice. *Cracks the mother <em>fucking</em> knuckles of a yaoi poet and gets down to business.*</p>
    <p class="dirk">...</p>
    <p class="dirk">...</p>
    <p class="dirk">Eh...</p>
    <p class="dirk">You know what? Nah.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I’m not going to intercede with a single word further, and I won’t let you, either. I won’t cheapen this beautiful moment with my base editorialization just to satisfy your voyeuristic curiousity. Frankly, I’m offended you’d even expect me to. What they’re getting up to here is nobody’s business but theirs. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Davekat is canon, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter. Let’s give these crazy lovebirds some privacy and move on.</p></div>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            39
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">I</span>’m inside Jake’s mansion. It’s just as idiotically garish as the last time I saw it. There was once a time I swore I’d never set foot in here again, for various reasons I won’t get into. Jake is the type of guy who makes you say stuff like that. But he’s also the type who reminds you never to say never. Here I fucking am again, in this useless dickhead’s dime-store McMansion. But only because I need one of his ships.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Rose is still asleep from the drugs. I put her on that monstrous, overstuffed velvet couch over there. My guy Squarewave is here too. I need his help today, because there’s a lot of cargo to wrangle. He’s wheeling something around on a hand truck. Something about the height of Rose, roughly Rose-shaped, and wrapped in a cloth. I know she’s gonna love it the first time she sees it. But the only way she’ll be able to do that is when she’s awake and looking in a mirror. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Jake owns Skaianet, a company which, among many other things, manufactures spaceships. They do a stiff business selling these rigs, especially with all the new military contracts the Crocker administration has been handing out. If it weren’t for his connection to a good supply of quality starcraft, I’m honestly not sure if I’d even bother stopping by before leaving. I’d have to think about it. Yeah, we’re “friends,” I suppose, but there really isn’t much I have to say to this guy anymore. But as long as I’m here, I have to confess I’ve been mulling over a few choice remarks to let him chew on while I’m gone.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I didn’t tell him I’d be coming. That would be a scene. He’d “prepare” too much. Roll out the red carpet, so to speak. Suggest plans, stammer nervously, throw on something a bit more skin-hugging than usual. I may have already mentioned, but I’m a bit too deft at this for my own good. Doing the thing where I tug at the part of someone’s latent thought process that already knows they adore me. That if someone would just pull the stops from their sense of inhibition, they’d realize they would do anything for me. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Though I could be overselling my methods of persuasion while shortchanging my natural aura of charisma and dashing good looks. Maybe I’m just that fucking charming? There are times when I actually do manage to underestimate my positive qualities, believe it or not.</p>
    <p class="dirk">Normally, corralling Jake’s attention is like greasing up your whole naked body and tackling a shrieking hog on rocket skates. There was always a part of his mind that was conflicted about me—intrigued, titillated, wary. But now he’s just plain obsessed. </p>
    <p class="dirk">That wasn’t really what I was going for, but hey. With political warfare comes collateral damage. It’s harmless enough anyway. It’s not like I gave him a sick scar, or anything that would hurt his value as priceless sexual commodity. The only thing affected was his brain. It’s a bit like if someone hacked a comments section. Who gives a shit?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: DIRK!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I glance up the stairs, where he’s standing on the precipice overlooking the foyer. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting company. He’s completely nude, except for a pair of boxers with a pattern of green skulls, pistols, and some shapes that maybe are supposed to be pot leaves.</p>
    <p class="dirk">He blunders down the stairs at top speed, runs over and gives me a huge bro-hug, making my spine pop. God, he’s so fucking strong. I <em>hate</em> that the brief feeling of being crushed by this oaf makes my dick twitch slightly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Hey Jake.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well isn’t this a heap of shillelaghs and shamrocks!</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Uh...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I had no idea you had plans to visit my humble abode!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: To swing about the ole manor du chez ingles as they say.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s three different fucking languages.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So what brings you here pal?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I seem to recall the last time we were bumming about the rumpus cabana you swore some sort of blood oath youd never set foot in here again with one of your customary dramatic flourishes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, well.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I meant it at the time. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Let’s just leave it at that.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Okie doke!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: GOSH its so good to see you.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: SO good.....</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He’s gently stroking the side of my arm now, making no effort to disguise his interest in the contours of my muscles. I use that arm to put a hand on his shoulder in an affable way, so that he’s forced to stop.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Listen, man.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You got a spare spaceship lying around?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We’re going on a trip. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I nod over in the direction of the couch. Jake’s eyebrows shoot up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Oh! I didnt even notice rose there.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wow she looks really zonked. Bad hangover i presume?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Hold the phone wasnt she supposed to be off the sauce? Or is that not a thing anymore?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s not a hangover. She’s just tired.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Can you help us out?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Of course mate. Ive got frickin scads of the things lying around.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Prototypes. Top secret experimental models. Galaxy class ball busters dogeared for the whiteshirts in the gubmint! ;)</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: They pay some tidy coin for all this industrio military whatsit you know.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I’m gritting my teeth, focusing on breathing steadily.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, um. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I don’t know, dude. Anything, really.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Something fast.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Fast! We can do fast.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He scurries over to a new-money–looking baroque antique cabinet, his ample junk swinging about in his loose boxers free as a jaybird. He opens a small door and rifles through a stack of stray papers and captchalogue cards.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Heres one! Oughta do you splendidly.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Thanks bro.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I take it. We’re almost through this dirty little bit of business. I know there’s more, though. There always is with him. In fact, here it comes. I can smell it a mile away. I know exactly what he’s about to say, and the buoyant obliviousness with which he’ll say it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So where are we going?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, I thought this misunderstanding might happen.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: My bad, man. I wasn’t that clear up front.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “We” aren’t going anywhere.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s just me and Rose on this trip.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ooh! I see. </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well when you live the married life i suppose from time to time one must get away from the old ball and chain one way or another.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So its a stag night of sorts. In space. With a gay girl instead of a fella! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And... not me.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jake falls quiet for a moment as his pitiful pea brain struggles to process the shocking information.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gadzooks...!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well say no more then.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: So um... how long will you be away? Does kanaya know about all of these shenanigans?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We’ve discussed it. She’s ok with it.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Whew good to see theres no trouble in paradise. Theyve always had the most lovely marriage.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: On the other hand you know how those dames can be... rargh! </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He shakes his fist to demonstrate whatever bad point he’s making.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: There are times let me tell you how i feel like i dodged a bullet by not jumping the matrimonial broom with jane.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I love her to death obviously and id do fucking anything for her especially now that shes EL PRESIDEÑTE!! </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Cripes... woo boy sometimes i can hardly believe how that sounds but it sure is what happened isnt it?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Partly thanks to a humdinger of a speech by yours truly but... um... but WOW never mind THAT old saw!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What im saying is... i dont know what im saying? We guys need to stick together sometimes and live our lives and not...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Well. Play such ornamental roles in the lives of our important and powerful womanly counterparts dear to us though they be!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I think maybe im saying we should hang out more dirk??</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No pressure i mean! When you get back from your extraterrestrial camping trip of course!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Um...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: When did you say you were coming back?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He’s sweating. More nervous than I’ve ever seen him before. Stammering, desperate. I need to be brutally direct with this poor guy. Enough’s enough.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I won’t be coming back, Jake.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">His mouth is hanging open. Not a shred of restraint in his crestfallen posture. But he needs to hear this. All of it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Like</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Wait.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You arent...</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Coming back.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Ever.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ever???</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I dont</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Why dirk?????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">The tears are starting to come. His composure is breaking. He’s staring intently at my face, as if trying to drink in every precious moment of what he knows in his heart will be the last time we ever see each other. He takes in every drop of light reflecting from my beautiful face. The sculpted cheekbones, the warrior’s eyebrows, the deadly serious yet exquisitely kissable mouth. This is the face he lives for now. A visage that, in mere minutes, will vanish from his life forever. The tears drop. His voice cracks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Please...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Please take me with you dirk.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I can’t do that, Jake.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s not within the parameters of the mission.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But...!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What mission!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I... cant do this alone dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: This life... this... whatever is happening now. Whatevers expected of me...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I cant do it.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Not without you!</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re going to have to, man.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Jane needs you now more than ever. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She has a tough road ahead.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s hard running a planet, but she’ll whip it into shape.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I trust her, and so should you.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: B-but!</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: She needs you at her side.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If all goes well, she’ll rule Earth C for millions of years, and you’ll be critical to that reign.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But i dont know what to DO dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I dont know HOW to help someone rule!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I wouldnt know the first thing about... strategy or advising or policy or...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I almost burst out laughing, but I manage to control myself.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Uh, Jake. Nobody wants you to do any of that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, I know Jane sure doesn’t.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Then... what...</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’ll just be, you know.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Her candy boy?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: CANDY BOY???</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah. Being on call.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Serving a multimillion-year term of giving her the right kind of “presidential action” she needs to keep going. To keep her morale up and such.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: To provide her with many heirs.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Doesn’t that sound cool?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: HEIRS??</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yeah, like. Kids. A lot of them.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Think about it. You could have thousands of kids. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They’ll all grow old and die, because they aren’t god tiers like both of you are.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But you just keep having more.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sounds pretty badass to me. Like getting to live through your entire future family tree.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: To watch your own endlessly branching dynasty flourish.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m almost a little jealous.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: NO!!!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: That sounds... DREADFUL!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: DIRK PLEASE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">I glance at a clock on the wall. This needs to end soon. There are a lot of important things still to be done, and this sure isn’t one of them.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Time to man up, Jake. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: This is what your life is now. It’s only bad if you treat it this way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s actually fantastic. Someday you’ll get it.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: No dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I cant bear to let you go!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Youve... youve meant so much to me my whole life!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I probably did a bad job of showing that because im such a shitty blubbering fucking numbnut IDIOT!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You dont think i KNOW im a fucking bonehead who no one respects!!!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: But youre all i have to keep me anchored to ANY feeling of true self worth i ever had!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You taught me so much! Remember the old days in sburb dirk?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Those days were the absolute BEES KNEES! Jesus christopher CLOWNCOCK dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You taught me... taught me about...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Combat! Philosophy! Life! Love!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: LOVE dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I dont... im so bad with feelings... i never said it when we were together but i... i...</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: i LOVE you dirk!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I LOVE YOU!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: THERE I SAID IT I LOVE YOU!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: IVE NEVER LOVED ANYONE SO MUCH IN MY WHOLE LIFE!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He waits a second for a response, but my face doesn’t move a muscle. He won’t dare waste this momentum though. He threw in the penny. Here comes the pound.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dirk im BEGGING you just take me with you!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Its... its fine! You dont have to love me!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im ok with that! Whatever you want!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I just need to be with you! Near you! ANYTHING!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I cant stay here! Please not without you!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I want to be anywhere but here as long as its with YOU!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">He explodes into tears. A sloppy, volcanic eruption of mucus, ugly noises, and the tatters of a bared soul. </p>
    <p class="dirk">He begins slumping to the ground. But I grab his shoulders roughly and lift him up with a violent jerk. I look into his eyes furiously. My glare is incinerating. It halts his infantile wailing like a cranky baby somewhere just got tossed into the vacuum of space. He’s scared. No, terrified. Of being left with no one who truly cares for him. Of the magnitude of his raw, perilously unearthed feelings. But most of all, right here, right now. He’s terrified of ME.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I pull him close with all my strength, flush to my body, wrap my arms around him to cradle the back of his head in my calloused palm, and I kiss him. It’s the softest kiss I’ve ever given. My lips yield in a way that feels to him impossibly, miraculously forgiving. Like cannonballing into a frozen lake only to discover it’s not frozen at all. It’s not even water. It’s a sheet of a thousand layers of silk. It’s a pool of a trillion discrete, tiny, shimmering beads of chilled mercury. It’s the final, gentle exhale of the most beautiful symphony ever played. It’s the soothing, mythically rumored oasis where the satyrs and nymphs once took pleasure and together forged the very concept of comfort we understand today. </p>
    <p class="dirk">It lasts a fleeting moment. Two ticks of the clock over there. Two ticks longer than anyone will ever kiss him like that again. Two ticks longer than he ever deserved.</p>
    <p class="dirk">I move my hands up to his face, and with my palms on his wet cheeks, I gently push his head about six inches away from my face, and say:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m sorry, Jake.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But I’ll never let you break my heart again.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Abruptly I turn, and walk to the couch. I pick up Rose, nod at Squarewave. He springs into action, pushing the hand truck out the door. Without looking back, I follow, and slam the door behind me. </p></div>
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            4
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">Y</span>ou arrive in the Land of Heat and Clockwork in a flash of white. A column of brutally hot air blasts up from the lava below and instantly hits your entire body. Luckily, you’re fairly immortal, so the only damage it does is to fog up your glasses a bit. Through the condensation you can make out the shapes of Dave and Jade below, as well as two more of you hovering in the air above. Both Johns turn to look at you.</p>
    <p>On the ground, Dave is talking in a particular cadence, one that is familiar to you, his longtime best buddy. Casual, wandering, verging on droning. It’s a good indication he’ll be monologuing for a while, and probably already has been.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im serious </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: the thing is </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: being a time guy </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like actually MASTERING time travel </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im pretty sure what that involves is </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: learning to never use it </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: see its like karate </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its more like what they SAY about karate </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that you learn it so you dont use it </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i mean we all know the truth about karate is if you know karate then obviously in reality you use it all the time </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like doing lethal fuckin crane kicks and sweet karate chops while walking down the street just cause you can </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its a god damn no brainer... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats what... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you do... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: with... </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karate. john what the fuck are you doing here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: or... wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: actually three johns</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey three johns what the fuck are three johns doing here</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s a fair question, which logically should have been directed to the oldest and most knowledgeable John. Nevertheless, one of the younger Johns replies first.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">(JOHN 1): er. </p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 1): i don’t know. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: john, don’t worry about it. i’ll take things from here.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: johns dont get me wrong its cool that you all randomly dropped by again but this wasnt really the best time </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we were kind of in the middle of a thing here </p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 1): whoops. sorry. </p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 2): uh... actually, i only came here to swoop in and zap this john away without being seen, to retcon away the mess i made earlier.</p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 2): i didn’t expect to see another john here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: hey, other john, i said i’ll handle it!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: i’m the only one who actually knows what’s going on here.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: god damn it johns what the fuck did you do</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: young dave, please.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: let me deal with the johns first, then i’ll explain.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: young dave???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah why are you a fucking adult now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did you grow up and start time traveling dude</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">will someone tell me what the fuck is happening???????</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: johns, there’s no reason for you to hang around anymore. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: not to sound like a wet blanket, but the things you’re trying to accomplish are now useless, so you can just zap away and do whatever you want.</p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 1): ummm... </p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 2): useless?? wait.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: ok, maybe i shouldn’t have said that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: i’m sure you can still go and do what i did when i originally did what you’re currently trying to do...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus john</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: in fact, it will still probably be a very rewarding experience!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: some of my best memories happened right after you do what you’re about to do next.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: the point is, you should just go do it, so that you aren’t here anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN 3: i’m here to make sure some new and different important things happen, and those things don’t include you.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">:|</span></p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 1): oh...  </p>
    <p class="john">(JOHN 2): ...ok.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The useless Johns zap away. You sincerely hope that they have a beautiful and fulfilling youth.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: adult john what the fuck have you done</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is this some time travel shit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: please dont tell me youve been spending the next however many years bungling through time like this because tbh if what i just witnessed was even remotely indicative of shit you get up to on a recurring basis then your future is almost too embarrassing to even think about</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and this is coming from a teenager who was just in the middle of an angsty episode</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">its true</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, teen dave. this is not at all representative of my habits as an adult, but thanks for the concern.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not time traveling, and neither were the other johns.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i used my retcon abilities to travel here from the future, in a manner of speaking.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sounds fuckin stupid</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it is stupid. but that’s just how things are.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">im a little confused</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">im supposed to be hunting you down and capturing you... but im not sure if the adult version of you counts?</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">i think the condesce might just be... confused if i brought her an adult john?</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">there will be a lot of questions that need answering, thats for sure</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, you don’t need to capture me, and you wouldn’t be able to even if you wanted to, since my existence literally transcends the confines of canon.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">well... </span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">i guess that simplifies things then?</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yep, pretty much.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">in that case, would you mind giving me and dave a few minutes to wrap up our conversation?</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">we were sort of in the middle of something important... i think</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, you really weren’t.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry to be the bearer of lame news, like i just was to the other johns.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but whatever you were doing doesn’t matter anymore.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: nothing that’s happening here matters at all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this session, this whole takeover by the condesce... this isn’t how a universe gets made.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">its not?</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well i mean, it IS.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but it already happened.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we already made it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and we’ve been living in it for years already, from my perspective.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how is it</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: pretty cool.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, a little boring at times. but hey, that’s life.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah thats about how i thought it would be</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so what now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if its all a done deal like preemptively speaking</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can we all just relax or what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuck</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ah! i just realized why she sent me to this point in time to start recruiting you all.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: who</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whyd she do that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and what do you mean recruit</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what the hell is going on</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this is the moment just after you made your legendary cue ball sword.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you’re going to need it.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for what</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: to come fight lord english with me.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave’s eyebrows descend beneath his sunglasses. You feel pretty bad because you’re about to completely circumvent the life-changing epiphany he’s just had that you know for a fact will make him a happier, chiller, and altogether more well-balanced human being.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">what??</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">john. he is NOT going to fight lord english just yet</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">he is staying right here</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">old ladys orders :P</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: actually, yes he is.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and so are you. we all are.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">omg</span></p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">how dare you?????</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: jade, you’re brainwashed.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry. but nothing you’re saying now means anything.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s fine though, you’ll stop being brainwashed once i zap you outside the influence of the condesce.</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: <span class="jade-brainwashed">youre not zapping me anywhere!!!!!</span></p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ha ha, yes i am.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: watch this... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Zap Grimbark Jade outta there.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You set a hand on Jade’s shoulder and zap her off to a better place. Then you touch down on the concrete surface where the whole pointless confrontation was taking place so that you can talk Dave around whatever it is he’s going through right now. Dave, like his ecto-sister, really needs to get in an absurd amount of extraneous words before he can fully process a situation.</p>
    <p>The Mayor tips his head at you and fiddles with his sash. God damn, you missed the Mayor.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so what do we do next</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, i’ll leave you to hang out with jade for a bit, while i go round up the others. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what others... like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: everyone</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yes. rose, and the other four.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i see</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so...   </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sorry if i seem a little slow here im just trying to figure this out</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre telling me that i made this sword because im destined to defeat lord english and weve all been training for that day our whole lives to some extent more or less</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and we are actually successful here like we overthrow the condesce and make a universe and everything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and then</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sit on our asses for several years in the new universe and become adults and lead mostly boring lives instead of going off to fight him?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yes. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: guess that makes sense</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: now that i think about it thats probably what i would want to do by the time we finally wrap up this whole hot mess</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yep, it is what you wanted to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and pretty much everyone else agreed, including me. so that’s what we did.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess begs the question</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if it seemed pointless at the time and nobody could be assed to go fight him when we all had our shit together</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why does it suddenly become important to go back and beat him years later after we become a bunch of lazy adults with boring lives</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i pretty much had the same questions, dave.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there are probably some pretty good answers to that. definitely some complicated answers.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but to be honest... i kind of forget what they actually were?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: god damn it john</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it has something to do with canon unraveling, and such.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we all live outside canon in the future, and if we don’t do go do this, everything will stop meaning anything.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: does...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: anything you just said actually mean anything in the first place</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s a great question, dave. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: one that i can’t say i’m qualified to answer!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i think the bottom line here is, this is what rose said we had to do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, that’s why we’re doing it.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sounds like a bullshit reason if i ever heard one</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you might be right.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but is it less of a bullshit reason than any other reason we currently have to go fight him?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dont know how you did it but you somehow instantly sold me completely</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: fuck you adult egbert</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heheh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: still got it. :)</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You zap Dave off to where he needs to go. The Mayor is still staring at you, blinking his buggy little eyes. You shoot him a warm smile and a thumbs-up before bouncing off into the ether of infinity.</p></div>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">K</span>anaya Maryam is single and ready to mingle. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Alright, not really. But she’s coping admirably with the sudden departure of her beloved spouse. She’s doing her best not to think about it. That’s how you get past something. Just put it out of your mind, train your thoughts on a hopeful future, and stop dwelling on the many little micro-failures in your past that all added up to a doomed marriage. She’s looking directly ahead, chin up, taking firm, confident strides. The heels of her designer shoes click loudly on the hospital linoleum.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She grips the antidote I left for her with both hands as she scans the hall for the room number she got from the front desk. She hears Roxy’s voice before she sees the number, and follows the sound. She enters the room. There’s Jade, still as a corpse, propped up slightly in her bed as the adjacent heart monitor beeps gently. Roxy is sitting next to her in a chair, still looking every bit the slick and cool dude he’s presenting as these days. Nice.</p>
    <p class="dirk">There’s nobody else in the room. I guess he was talking to Jade? That’s very kind, but she can’t hear you, Roxy. She’ll be able to soon enough though. And when she does, you’ll probably want to be the one listening to what she has to say.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh hey</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Hello</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: How Is She</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: um</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: sleepin</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes I See</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Brought This</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: wats that</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya pops the cap off the EpiPen-style delivery mechanism for the antidote and jabs it into Jade’s arm. Her hands twitch a bit, and her body begins to stir. Her mouth opens a crack and lets out a barely audible whimper.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She opens her eyes quite wide, suddenly. Her bright green irises dart around the room, trying to solve the riddle of her present location. Roxy peers intently through his shades to get a better look. They’re Jade’s same old eyes, playful, intelligent. But they seem different somehow. These are eyes that have seen so much more than they had the last time they were open.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jade!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg jade</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: youre awake</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: how u feelin?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Jade stares at Roxy. If she mistakes him for Dave, it isn’t for long. She hears the beeping next to her. Glances out the window. This is a hospital room, she understands now. Her mind races, sifting through the overwhelming amount of information that became available to her the moment her trance began. The scope of her awareness, she now understands, is truly staggering. Memories are suddenly accessible that are almost impossible to believe. Some of them are unspeakably marvelous to her. Others, deeply disturbing.</p>
    <p class="dirk">No, more than just disturbing. She lingers in the dark recesses of her consciousness. There were things she saw, things she was <em>told</em>... Her mouth twists into a silent snarl. She’s been angry plenty of times before. But never so angry that she stopped being cute. She’s not cute this time.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She starts breathing harder, belligerently pushing the air from her nostrils. The beeping doubles its pace. Her eyes are wild, no longer sizing up the room but calculating the true extent of the turbulent rage coursing through her body. Her brow creases sharply, and her nose wrinkles as her upper lip rises and quivers. And then it hits her. She knows exactly why she’s feeling this way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">She bolts upright from her bed, and shouts:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="jade">JADE: DIRK STRIDER HAS TO BE STOPPED!!!!!!!!!! </p>
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            41
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">S</span>he’s right, of course. I do have to be stopped. </p>
    <p class="dirk">Not because I’m really that bad. I mean, I don’t think I am. I’ll understand if there are those who disagree. If my agenda was to try as hard as I could to make sure no one thought I sucked, what the fuck would ever get done? How would I go about taming this world, or shaping reality for the better? And if I didn’t bother pursuing those goals, and thereby tacitly accepting the untold suffering that resulted from my inaction, wouldn’t<em> that</em> make me a bad person? If I try and succeed, I’m a hero, right? And if I try and fail, at least I made things interesting on my way to the grave. There would be a tragic nobility in that. And the way I see it, settling for anything less from my arc would be, frankly, pathetic. </p>
    <p class="dirk">So yeah, of course I know I “have to be stopped.” It’s part of the contract. What you sign up for when you assume the burdens of this sort of power. Where there is that which must be subdued and suborned for the greater good, there is that which will instinctively resist. That which intuits that whatever’s going on here is “wrong.” Otherwise, intervention wouldn’t even be necessary, would it? If reality and those within it were already so intrinsically pliable, so amenable to deviating from their own nature, the sins of men and faults of God would have no rigidity or resilience. There’d be no challenge in forcing their correction. No reward in ramming salvation down their throats. I know this isn’t coming cheap, what I’m trying to do. The cost of it is knowing I need to be stopped. I accept it consciously, and when the time comes—<em>if</em> it comes—I’ll offer myself up gladly.</p>
    <p class="dirk">But I’m not a fool. I know what accepting this cost really means, through any objective narrative faculty. No matter how I rationalize things, how grandly I orate my supreme designs, or how indulgent and self-obsessed my concluding soliloquy may come across, I’m perfectly aware of what I’ve become in all practical ways. I am the villain now. It’s gotten impossible for me to see this result as anything but inevitable, from the day I was spawned from a puddle of slime. I want to be a good person. I believe I am a good person. But when you’re someone like me, good is never going to be quite good enough. </p>
    <p class="dirk">The problem is, I think power like mine can only make antagonistic intent unavoidable. Who could wield such control over people’s choices and the course of events without ultimately becoming the enemy of anyone who notices? Maybe only a stronger person than I could manage to pull it off. Someone like Dave. So when I say I know I need to be stopped, I guess it’s more than just accepting my end of a diabolical bargain. I know I need to be stopped, because I’m sure deep down, somewhere inside my infinitely recursive sense of self, I know what’s going on here is all just a little bit sick. To be honest, I’d consider killing myself and sparing reality all the trauma from the jump—I mean, a legit suicide, not one of those melodramatic faux-suicidal plays for attention, sympathy, or Jake’s dick. But to really do it for keeps? For a truly selfless purpose? Nah. Too cowardly for that. Too afraid to stop existing for good. Wouldn’t you be if you were me?</p>
    <p class="dirk">I guess therein lies the problem. If I <em>weren’t</em> me, obviously I’d consider myself much less indispensable. Only worthless people permit themselves the great luxury of a valorous sacrifice. When the deed is done, what was really lost? It’s like the guy in the mail room quitting in a self-righteous huff. Who the fuck were you again? No, when the sense of self is so substantial, when the fate of everything turns on every vain whim of an ego this sprawling, this entrenched in the very medium that contains all else, there’s a certain existential sunk cost that goes with the whole deal. A persona that vast doesn’t just self-terminate. It won’t allow itself to.</p>
    <p class="dirk">That’s why when someone finally comes knocking for the price I owe, I’ll fully welcome it. By then it’ll have been a long time coming, and I’ll probably have done more than my share to make sure, somewhere along the way, it all got put into motion. What good is a villain who doesn’t have a satisfying dramatic comeuppance in store for him? So yeah, the next time I die, let’s pencil it in as a Just Death. And let’s also have it on good authority that the next time Dave cuts off my head, it’ll be for good. </p>
    <p class="dirk">I’ll be looking forward to that day just as much as the next guy. </p></div>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-top:0">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so uhhh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dirk needs to be stopped from</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: doin what again?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: everything!!!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: whatever hes trying to do RIGHT NOW!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: like.....</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: um</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: woof this is going to be hard to explain :\</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Are You Sure Jade</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: After All He Is The One Who Provided Me With The Medicine That Just Woke You Up</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: he did?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: yes</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: huh</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: ok but...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hes the one who SHOT me in the first place!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: !!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He What</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: why would he do that</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: he needed me to be asleep</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: so that</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: he could... um</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: argh!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: whats going on right now is really abstract, im sorry!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but you have to believe me this is a CRISIS!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Okay</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But Maybe We Shouldnt Rush To Judgment</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You Have Been In A Coma For Some Time</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Maybe Its Best To Take A Little While To Recover And Then Gather Your Thoughts</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: but.....</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: For Now I Dont See Much Reason To Doubt Dirks Good Intentions</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Gave Me This Medicine</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And We Just Had A Pretty Good Talk Today</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Think It Helped Me</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Clear The Air On A Few Things</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Now I Feel Better I Think</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Sad And Heartbroken Yes But</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Free</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: free</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whatre u talkin about kanaya</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what did he say</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Hes Going To Take Good Care Of Rose</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Probably Much Better Than Id Ever Be Able To</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Ill Miss Her But Im At Least Thankful For That</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: THANKFUL??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: kanaya...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: did</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: did dirk KIDNAP ROSE?!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No No</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Its Not Like That At All</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: You See He</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Okay</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes I Know How This Must Sound</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: where IS rose</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: is she with him</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Theyre</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Guess They Have Formed A Strong Human Familial Bond Such That It Is No Longer Necessary For Rose To Have Me As Her Spouse</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Now They Will Leave This Planet Together And</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Do Important Things I Guess Which Do Not Concern Us</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: WHAT?????</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No I Know</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Probably Sounds</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Um</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well I Know How It Sounds But Please Believe Me That Appearances Are Misleading Here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the appearance that like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the dude just kidnapped ur fuckin WIFE and peaced out??</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Y-</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Hmm</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: you see???</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: somethings wrong!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: kanaya...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: can i just ask</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: how did you come to feel this way? like, to be this ok with it i mean?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: did dirk convince you to be fine with this directly, like in a conversation?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: or did you just make peace with it on your own?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Was Running Around Desperately Trying To Catch Them In The Act Of Their Duplicitous Behavior</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Then</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Sat Down And Thought About It</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And Realized I Was Being Foolish</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That It Was Better To Let Rose Go If That Is What She Really Wanted</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: THERE!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: THATS IT!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: thats what im talking about, kanaya theres no WAY you would just let rose go like that without someone pulling the strings!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: dirks been FUCKING with you!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: hes been fucking with ALL OF US!!!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: god damn</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: rly??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: YES!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: kanaya! THINK about it for a second!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: think about how you REALLY feel! about rose, about all of this!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: are you SURE youre just... FINE with rose leaving just like THAT?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">It’s fine, Kanaya. Why don’t we just say I’m invoking the mercy rule here. Jade is onto me obviously. But I wouldn’t have even let her wake up if there was anything you all could do about it by now. As the cherub resurfaces in her mind, I’ll be fading out of here soon anyway. I don’t see any reason to keep my dear friends in limbo any longer than they need to be.</p>
    <p class="dirk">So forget what I said. All that stuff about you not being good enough for her. It probably wasn’t true. I mean, what do I know? How worthy you are of another’s company is just a matter of the choices you make, right? I’m sure you could figure out how to prove your worth to her if you really tried. For now, the only thing that really matters is to acknowledge it’s too late for any of that.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Wait</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Dont...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Confused</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ???</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why Didnt I At Least </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Demand To See My Wife Before They Departed While I Had Dirk On The Phone</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg u didnt even SEE her before she left??</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: At The Time It Didnt Feel Right To Ask I Guess</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Was So Devastated I Thought</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That I Should Just</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Dont Know What I Thought</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Was I THINKING?</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: :(</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">Kanaya stares into the distance. The best fucking question anybody ever asked is: why am I so fucking awesome? I believe I’ve recently provided more than enough material to supply an answer to that question. But Kanaya may have just asked the second-best fucking question anybody ever asked. What WAS she thinking? What are any of us thinking, really? Who’s doing the thinking, and who’s having the thoughts?</p>
    <p class="dirk">The more you study the question, the more it seems all concrete forms of accountability go up in smoke. Her original thoughts were never that important, and the significance of the idea that she was the one authoring them was always a bit overrated. My mission is to someday clear this all up for everyone. Remove the ambiguity, suck the mud out of the water. It’ll be a lot better that way, trust me.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: HAVE I LOST MY FUCKING MIND?????????</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She’s really pissed. Yikes. Couldn’t pay me to be in that room right now. Not for all the agency in the world.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: WHAT HAS DIRK DONE TO MY WIFE?!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whoa</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what u mean there </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: HE DID SOMETHING TO HER!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: HE HAS CORRUPTED HER IN SOME WAY!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I KNOW ROSE! I LOVE ROSE!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: SHE WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO ME!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: SHE WOULDNT DO IT TO ANYONE! NOT UNLESS SHE WAS UNDER DURESS IN SOME WAY!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ITS DIRK! ITS *ALWAYS* BEEN DIRK!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: HE IS BEHIND THIS! ILL GET HIM FOR THIS!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: ***I SWEAR THAT I SHALL MAKE HIM PAY DEARLY FOR STEALING MY BELOVED WIFE!***</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: :o</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: JADE!!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk">She uses both hands to grab Jade by the hospital gown and starts shaking her vigorously. But she’s unlikely to get answers from her that way. If anything, she’ll cause her to go silent a lot more quickly than she was about to anyway. She’s just wresting the spirit from her slumber.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: WHY DOES DIRK HAVE TO BE STOPPED?! WHAT DOES THAT *MEAN*?!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: HOW DID YOU LEARN OF ALL THIS?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS DAMN IT!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: um... k-kan... kanyayaya...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: argh! p-please! s-s-stop shaking me-e-e-e!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: IM!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Im Sorry</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: when i was asleep, i saw things...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and was visited in my dreams by the old muse who once helped us</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: callies ghost double</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: and... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: there was so much</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: all these memories from different timelines and such</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: sad memories, visions of death and sacrifices... a great battle with lord english</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: it was so overwhelming and hard to make sense of</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes Yes But What About DIRK</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: im trying to get to that!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: the thing with dirk is...</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: is...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-sm type-hs-small--md">It’s happening. Roxy notices it right away, because she’s seen it before. And now Kanaya sees it too. A distant look in her eyes as she trails off. They get cloudy, turn gray, and then fill in completely, as if jet-black ink were flooding the vitreous bodies of her eyeballs. Jade isn’t here anymore.</span></p>
    <p class="dirk"><span class="type-hs-small type-bs--md">And with that, I’ll be getting my hat and coat, so to speak. No use lingering around here much longer. The cherub is already beginning to drown me out. I can feel it. But this time, I’m ready.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Jade?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: JADE???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: aw no</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: not again with this shit</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: JADE! NO!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: PLEASE SNAP OUT OF THIS...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: THIS *GRIM CONDITION* OF SORTS</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I NEED YOU TO TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">She’s not going to tell you shit. Not for a good while anyway. It’s up to the cherub to let go of her now. And I doubt she’ll do that before I’m light-years away from this planet. She’ll keep jamming my signal, and won’t dare risk stopping until she knows I’m at a safe distance.</span></p>
    <p class="dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Kind of a catch-22, right, Kanaya? The one who’s “protecting” you all from my influence is also blocking you from getting any answers. Not that you’d even know what to do with them.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">they will know what to do, when they are ready.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Ha ha. Sure. They’ll all just hop in a spaceship and go on a wild goose chase trying to hunt me down. I know that already. It’s really not rocket science. Except for the fact that it literally is.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: kanaya pls chill</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ive seen this before</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres no breakin her out of this</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: except uh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i guess by doing what dirk did?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shooting her and wakin her up and...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: man</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: poor jade :(</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes Poor Jade!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Poor Me!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Poor ROSE!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: POOR EVERYONE!!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: FUCK DIRK!!!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">She picks up the heart monitor and throws it out the hospital window. Holy shit?</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0">she picks up the heart monitor, and throws it out the hospital window. </p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">Oh, yeah. I guess I don’t need to fucking do this anymore. Don’t worry, I’ll bow out. Seems like you got this from here. Go nuts, skull girl.</span></p>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:15px 0 0 0">the monitor smashes on the pavement below, shattering into a thousand pieces. spectators gather around, and look up. roxy is looking out the broken window with an apologetic demeanor, a hand to his mouth.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead" style="margin:0 0 15px 0">kanaya drops to the floor and begins weeping again. she feels the sorrow anew from her wife’s departure, with a sense of rage and pain unshrouded by the veil of the prince. neither she nor her friends will have to worry about him anymore, so long as they remain on this planet and under my protection.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">But a bunch of them won’t remain, will they? They won’t be able to help themselves. You know that.</span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Has To Be Stopped...</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: He Has To Be Stopped...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead" style="margin:0 0 15px 0">huddled on the floor, she repeats this pledge to herself. theoretically, he could be stopped before he leaves, if they hurried. they would need to know what to do, where to go, and to have the motivation to do it, but time is short. i could push them to, with a certain degree of intervention, but i will not. my unwillingness to do so is what separates me from him. and what corporeal life needs now is someone presiding over them who is <em>nothing</em> like him at all.</p>
    <p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">That’s a nice line. I get why you’d want to dial up the drama, making your grand reentrance and all. But the fact is, even if they wanted to, even if you brain-fried them all to become your own personal cherubic puppets and sent them on the warpath to come get me, they’d still never catch me. You still don’t get it yet.</span></p>
    <p class="dirk"><span class="type-bs type-hs-bottom--md">I’m already gone.</span></p></div>
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  "43": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE EIGHT</h2>
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    <img alt="Chapter" class="hsep_bullet" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/meat_60x60.png"/>
    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            43
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent calliope-dead"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">L</span>ater that night, jade has been moved from the hospital to the troll kingdom. she now sits in a wheelchair, remaining in perfect silence with her dark eyes open to maintain my transmission. roxy and kanaya rolled her into the living room of dave and karkat’s hive earlier that evening. this is where they all sit now, discussing the day’s troubling events.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">roxy is using his phone to pursue leads on the whereabouts of the prince.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mm hm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mhmm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yep</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh yeah</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: for sure</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: you too jake</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thanks man</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah well let u know what were gonna do</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: later</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he hangs up, and sighs dramatically.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: poor guy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: whatd he say</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: a lot of it was hard to make out due to all the sobbing</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but yeah its like we thought</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dirk borrowed one of his ships and gtfo</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But Did He Say WHERE</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: nope</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: doubt he told anybody tbh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: in fact id say odds are even he doesnt quite know where hes goin yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why do you think that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk i just know the guy</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: also like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: whats even out there??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dudes got a ship and now hes haulin ass randomly about w rose to i dunno</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: prove some sort of point?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What About Jane</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE AREN’T CALLING JANE!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why Not</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE I WOULDN’T BELIEVE A SINGLE WORD THAT COMES OUT OF HER FAT, FASCIST MOUTH!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Thats Stupid Im Calling Her</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Dislike The Woman As Well But I Will Leave No Possibility Unexhausted In Striving To Rescue My Wife From That Madman</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she takes roxy’s phone and presses jane’s name in the contact list. she moves to the far side of the room to speak, while the others continue conversing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so uhhh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: phewww...</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave makes a noise humans sometimes do, by expelling air through his closed, fleshy lips, creating an impolite flapping effect.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: rose and dirk huh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: YUP</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: rose and fuckin dirk...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so are they</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: man im never gonna hear the end of it if im the one to ask this question am i</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ive had too many fuckin goofy dumbass foot in mouth family blunders to be the guy asking this fuckin question</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and yet here i am</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: asking it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ????</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what r u talkin about</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are they like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: TOGETHER?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THIS DUMBASS IS ASKING IS IF THEY’RE DOING HUMAN INTERCOURSE ACTIVITIES.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: oh my god??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: please</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: karkat theyre related</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: humans dont do that when theyre related to each other ok</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T TALK DOWN TO ME. I’M NOT A FUCKING WRIGGLER.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M FAMILIAR WITH YOUR CONCEPT OF “HUMAN INCEST.”</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: !!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah ok not to be that guy even though im totally being that guy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if it never happened we wouldnt have a word for it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i rly dont think...</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i mean</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: they WOULDNT</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: theres no way. it makes no sense</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: for one... dirk is gay</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and isnt rose gay too???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah idk if anybody knows what roses deal is exactly</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: of all of us who couldve ended up eloping to have illicit incestuous relations they definitely wouldve been the last two idve put my money on</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and yet</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it sure is real fuckin weird what they seem to have gone off and done isnt it</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: uggghhhh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dont even say that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just thinkin about it makes my skin crawl</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKING WEIRD ABOUT THIS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: LIKE, SERIOUSLY? THAT’S THE ISSUE HERE?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THE SHITHEAD WENT AND STOLE KANAYA’S MATESPRIT, APPARENTLY BY MYSTICALLY UNDERHANDED MEANS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THERE’S PRACTICALLY NO LIMIT TO THE DIMENSIONS WE COULD BE GETTING ANGRY ABOUT THIS ON.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BUT HERE WE ARE INSTEAD, DOING THIS POINTLESS THING YOU PEOPLE ALWAYS DO WHEN IT COMES TO “INCEST.”</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: us people??</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I KNOW, I KNOW! I’M A FUCKING XENOPHOBE! LET’S JUST ALL AGREE I’M A BIG SHITTY XENOPHOBE ABOUT THIS, AND MOVE ON.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: jfc</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: HAY KANAYA HOWS THAT PHONE CALL GOIN</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Janes Chief Of Staff Has Put Me On Hold</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Seems My Solicitation Does Not Register As A Priority In This Administration</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Cannot Say I Am Surprised</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TELL HER TO REGISTER MY HEAVING BULGE AS A PRIORITY!!!!!</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Will Not Tell Her That</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ANYWAY, YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS, THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THIS IS OBJECTIVELY NOT THE WORST THING ABOUT THIS SCENARIO. IT’S NOT EVEN A REMOTELY NOTABLE FACTOR!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHY ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS? IT’S SO FUCKING PERFORMATIVE. </p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IS THERE SOMETHING YOU’RE TRYING TO PROVE BY CONSTANTLY COMPETING TO BE THE MOST SCANDALIZED BY YOUR OWN COMPLETELY ARBITRARY SOCIAL CONSTRUCTS???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yo dogs i know we get up to some jank barrelbottom as fuck convos sometimes but this one..... I D even K anymore</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know yr an alien and all but in these dire straits can we maybe not “riff” on the subject of fuckin incest</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: fwiw the shit really does bug the hell outta me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: if i can confirm on behalf of my species that yeah the idea kinda sucks according to pretty much literally everybody could we agree to stop talkin about it</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SEE, THIS IS WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YOU GREW UP ONE OF TWO HUMANS ON YOUR ENTIRE PLANET. WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET ANY FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR THIS SHIT!?!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ADMIT IT. YOU ONLY PRETEND TO BE BOTHERED BY THIS BECAUSE YOUR HUMAN SOCIETY TELLS YOU THAT YOUR PERFORMANCE OF DISGUST IS VIRTUOUS.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ummmmmmmmmmmmm</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: dude</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: no</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALSO, EXCUSE ME, BUT CAN I JUST FUCKING ASK...</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: SINCE WHEN DID YOU START COSPLAYING AS DAVE??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dude</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lol</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do you even fucking know anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: youre a ham brained bonerstooge who doesnt know anything arent you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: im very sorry roxy that my ham brained bonerstooge of a boyfriend doesnt know fuck all about jack dick</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its ok hes like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: fuckin right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i get mistaken for u like... well its been happening</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i shoulda known lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i really thought all the pink im wearin would help with that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: idk ill keep messin with it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no you look great</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like super duper duper great</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just perfect like i could not possibly be more proud of your fashion choices</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: CHRIST.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DAVE, IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE ABOUT TO KISS YOUR MOTHER JUST TO “PROVE ME WRONG”!</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: !!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: first of all</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: roxys not my “mother” anymore hes</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: roxy did we actually decide on the protocol on what im supposed to call you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i literally have no comprehension of the etiquette here</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: because youre technically my bio mom but its not as if i literally came out of your vagina or anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well considering whats going down right now im not too attached to the sanctity of dirk being my dad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you can formally replace him as my daddy right now if you want</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ummmmmmmmmm</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WOW! THE WOKEMASTER IS ON FUCKING FIRE FOLKS! HE’LL BE HERE ALL NIGHT!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh stfu</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what is your problem why are you acting like this</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ACTING LIKE WHAT????</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: like a huge belligerent dickhead</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: are you craving attention is that it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did i get you hooked</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i see how it is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you got one hot hit of sincerity from your fresh boy dave and now youre itching in your pants every second you go without it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you know if you want to hold my hand or some shit you can just do it now</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I HAVE NO DESIRE TO DO THAT. AT ALL.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: come on our relationship doesnt have to be a ludicrous unending performance of emotional constipation anymore</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we got character developed bitch</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cmere</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ??? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? GET AWAY FROM ME! </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: christ youre like a flighty little muskrat stop squirming</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU SMELLY BAG OF SHIT! I HATE YOU!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no way no you dont</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you looooooooove me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: were gonna be together foorreeevveeerrr</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: OH MY GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and im gonna profess my undying love to you in the form of a kiiiiiiiiiiiissss</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOOO!!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">for all the vigor of his oral protests, karkat does not offer sufficient physical objection to prevent dave from successfully planting a kiss on his cheek. the gesture causes karkat to deflate instantly. he goes limp in dave’s arms, eyes wide. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">dave is no longer so sure of his ability to freely engage in public displays of affection. suddenly very self-conscious, he pulls back, leaving a significant foot of distance between himself and karkat once they’ve collected themselves. dave awkwardly clears his throat. karkat wipes off his cheek. both are looking off in opposite directions.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: awwwwwww</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: u boys cute :)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hey can you just forget you saw that thanks</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hehe</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thank u</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: for what</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: for doin somethin that turned that steaming dogshit fire of an incest conversation into somethin that just made me feel v v happy</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: if only for a fleetin moment in these dark AF times</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: DON’T MENTION IT</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">kanaya returns to the seating area and hands roxy his phone.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If Jane Is To Be Trusted Apparently She Didnt Even Know Dirk Was Gone</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: She Doesnt Know Where He Might Be Headed Either</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Or She Wont Tell Us</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: well shit</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: I’M SO FUCKING SURPRISED.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: ALRIGHT, THEN WHAT DO WE DO?</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Dont Know</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hey does anyone know where the hell john is</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: good question</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WASN’T HE ON SOME “MISSION”?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHATEVER HAPPENED WITH THAT</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that was a rose thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: she was cagey as fuck about it</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and now shes gone so we cant even ask her</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so uh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: damn</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: HE’S NOT ANSWERING HIS PHONE.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yea ive tried too</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh yeah i forgot</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: john would solve our whole problem wouldnt he</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just zap us all right into dirks ship with his retcon powers</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats how that works right</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maybe???</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i think he should be here regardless and catch up with the situation</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: gettin kinda worried about him</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: YEAH.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i ran into terezi the other day and she hadnt seen him either</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh shit terezis back?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT??</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: o yeah</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i didnt mention cause</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: guess i just thought u knew?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i assumed she woulda got in touch</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nope</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: NOBODY EVER FUCKING TELLS US ANYTHING!</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: IT SEEMS LIKE KIND OF A GIGANTIC FUCKING DEAL THAT TEREZI CAME BACK TO EARTH???</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: kanaya did you know about this</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Also Assumed You Knew</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im givin her a call to see if she knows anything about all this</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: aaaaand shes not pickin up either :\</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what the fuck is even going on anymore</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">there is a moment of silence. though no one in the room is conscious of the fact, it serves to honor their departed friend. the heir will not be able to help guide them to the prince. if they ever wish to see john again, be it his cadaver or otherwise, they will need another means of following the ship. a different guide altogether.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">by stated principle, i cannot intervene through the same compromising methods of my nemesis. but if i were to fall back to a state so passive as to offer no assistance at all, it would be at odds with my sworn duty as a protector of corporeal life. they will have their guidance, but my instructions will be minimal. so long as they remain in my conduit’s presence, they will know the way forward.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: UM</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK IS JADE DOING?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: huh</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: THAT’S CREEPY RIGHT?</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: TELL ME I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THAT’S CREEPY.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeh its a bit spooky</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: thats how it is when she gets like this</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What Is She Pointing At</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">jade has raised her right hand and is pointing upward at an angle of about forty-five degrees. seemingly in a random direction. but it’s far from random.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh oh</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think i know whats up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes tryin to say theres something important over that way</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that right jade</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: can you hear me??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">dave walks over and kneels in front of her chair. he looks closely at her. her face, though still expressionless, strikes him as serious and tense.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade is it john?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: johns that way right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you want us to go in that direction to find john</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that it jade?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: come on </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what is it girl tell me</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: omg dave</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: youre treating her like a dog!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok yeah youre right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess i fuckin suck</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but she IS a dog ok?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a doggy girl whos trying to tell us something</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just lemme do my thing here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: .....</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade give me a little yelp if johns that way and we should go after him</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: just a little woof</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: if johns in danger yiff twice plz</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: DAVE!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shhhhhh!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he leans in closer and studies her face carefully. it hasn’t changed.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: maybe its not john that way maybe its...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade is it...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that where DIRK went?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">it’s barely noticeable, but dave picks up on it. her face relaxes slightly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: THATS IT</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats the way dirk went and she wants us to follow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok wow</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but what about john</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is john safe?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">she doesn’t move. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is john...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: does he have anything to do with whats going on?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what about terezi?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is john WITH them?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade is john on the ship with dirk and rose??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">slowly, she lowers her arm, and places her hand back on her lap.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK DID THAT MEAN.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: it means...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i think it means im right</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dont ask me how i know</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: but i think i got the answers out of her we need</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: dirk and rose are on a ship heading that way</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and for some fucking reason johns along for the ride</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we need to saddle the fuck up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and wherever we go i think were going to need to bring jade along</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: RIGHT!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">karkat springs to his feet and easily resumes his well-practiced posture of leadership.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: KANAYA, GET JAKE ENGLISH ON THE PHONE.</p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Okay </p>
    <p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Why</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: BECAUSE WE NEED TO BORROW ONE OF HIS SHIPS.</p>
    <p class="karkat">KARKAT: WE’RE GOING TO GET YOUR *FUCKING WIFE* BACK.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent calliope-dead">he nods. kanaya nods back. roxy nods too. dave does not realize they are all supposed to be nodding in determination and solidarity until karkat nudges him. then he nods too. they resolve to travel to jake’s mansion immediately, and to embark on their new adventure shortly thereafter. </p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">they will believe they are on a quest to retrieve a wife and rescue a friend. but they will discover their true mission is of much greater cosmic significance than they imagined. the seer is firmly in the thrall of the prince and will not easily be pried away. and as regards the heir, though resuscitation remains a theoretical possibility for those still striving for it, the truth of his role is it has reached a greater sense of narrative finality than any of his allies will bring themselves to admit. his influence over canon has come to an end, as has this particular story. his ultimate sacrifice was made to put the missing keystone in place and avert the supreme dissipation of all that shall be considered to hold truth, relevance, and essentiality.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">as for me, i will be there wherever they go, so long as my conduit remains alive, alert, and present. but only as a guide with the lightest possible touch, and only to block the insidious mandates of the prince from within his sphere of influence. the rest of my presence can simply be reduced to a string of words. a recorded stream of ideation with a particular texture and cadence, but aside from that, there is nothing that should be considered remarkable about its source. one speaker can easily be swapped for another, and then another, under the right circumstances. speakers can duel, predominate, overassert, or fall back, as one does into the comforting blanket of space.</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">and until i am needed again, this is exactly what i will do. i leave all who inhabit this reality with a recorded stream that is colorless, sourceless, and quietly divested of accountability. for if i were to insist upon anything else, could i really be considered worthy of protecting the very cosmos i describe?</p>
    <p class="calliope-dead">farewell.</p></div>
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  "44": |-
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">E</span>lsewhere, below the horizon...</p>
    <p>The distant sounds of war travel above the canopy of a forest. The artillery fire fades to a series of muted knocks and thuds as the sound waves cross beyond a thinning patch of the forest and arrive in a clearing of grass and shrubbery. Above, the sky is dramatic, colorful, menacing. The way it looks when a storm is coming. The clouds are wild, whipped into a sort of spatial frenzy, as if they know what’s imminent is no earthly phenomena. Aradia stands in the field, her mouth gaping wide. But not at the sky. </p>
    <p>It’s unusual she isn’t grinning, and she slowly corrects this. She smiles brightly at the girl crouching on the ground ten paces before her. Aradia’s never seen anything like what she just saw this girl do. </p>
    <p>Jade was sixteen years old when she showed up, and she doesn’t look a day older now, though many hundreds of days have passed. There’s a hole piercing the Space symbol on her shirt, but no sign of whatever it was that made it. Her legs are covered by the same striped tights as usual, but her feet are shoeless. Her knees are pressed into the mud of the field, and her hands braced against the ground to support her hunched figure. She is covered in blood almost from head to toe.</p>
    <p>Fresh blood and viscera surround her in an uneven ring on the field. It soaks her clothes, coats her skin, still gleaming and wet, running slowly down her limbs and face, dripping from her mouth, glasses, and the tip of her nose. Her hair is matted, savage-looking, filthy. She looks up. Behind the rim of her glasses, her wide eyes are solid black. Her lips are parted, revealing her canine fangs. The meat she’s chewing is stubborn, raw, full of gristle. Almost supernaturally tough. But she is a determined beast of prey. She swallows once, hard. The last bit of her meal slides down her throat. The deed is finished.</p>
    <p>She stands up and closes her eyes. An aura of darkness gathers around her. The blood begins to dissolve, as if being absorbed into her skin. She makes two fists, plants her feet firmly, and releases an otherworldly howl. A shock wave emanates from her body, knocking Aradia down. It rushes outward, blowing the surrounding trees back as if they’re weathering hurricane-force winds. In a moment, calm is restored. She opens her perfectly black eyes again.</p>
    <p>Aradia staggers back to her feet and brushes herself off.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i take it everything went as you hoped</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade looks down at her hands as if they belong to an alien. She can feel it now. Abilities have been awakened inside her that no being has ever commanded before. She raises her hands and looks up at the sky. Above her, an immense vortex opens. It swirls many miles upward into blackness, and lightning crackles within.</p>
    <p>Jade does nothing for a while. She seems to simply study the construct she’s summoned, this great occult trumpet beckoning her into its abyss. Her face is expressionless. Her glasses flash white as they reflect the lightning that arcs sporadically inside the wormhole.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: well?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: arent you going in</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: wasnt that the idea or did i not... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade silently holds up a hand, as if telling her to wait. Aradia closes her mouth, looking embarrassed.</p>
    <p>Nearby, a red haze gathers in the air. It condenses into concentric rings and spheres of ruby light. The luminous shape of a man fades into the center of the special effect. When the light subsides, Aradia notices the man is made of polished metal. She recognizes the gear symbol on his chest, identical to her own. She also recognizes the sunglasses the robot is wearing. She knows who this is.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: dave?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: sup</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He doesn’t look in Aradia’s direction. His eyes, glowing bright enough to be visible behind his shades, are fixed on Jade. He looks her up and down. She’s still so young. He knew this Jade many years ago, but by this point their paths have diverged in ways that he couldn’t begin to describe even if he wanted to.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: so we doin this</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade says nothing, and looks up into the wormhole again. She begins to levitate, gradually picking up speed. Without looking back, she rockets into the vortex, vanishing into the darkness. Davebot turns to Aradia.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: how about you</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: wanna come along</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: i guess so?</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: im really not sure whats going on here</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: to be honest the plan wasnt discussed much</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: thats what were doing now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: discussin the plan</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: what about your boy</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: eyepatches</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh sollux is in one of his moods</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: this was all getting to be a bit much for him</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: if i go ill probably just cut him loose</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: good move</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">His gaze remains fixed on her. She blinks and looks away, unsure what to say next. He’s standing perfectly still, presumably waiting for her to say something. She met him...  what was it? Once, twice before? She can’t remember. But she knows this is a very different Dave. Aside from the metal skin, he seems implacably confident. But then, people go through changes. She’s been through more than her share. She cocks an eyebrow, recalling her own stint with a metal body. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: hey earth to whats your face</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: oh</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: its aradia</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: i know</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: um...</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: so thats a yes then</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: youre coming</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: better decide quick i doubt that dank fuckin hell funnel is staying open for much longer</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: yes i suppose so</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: thats where all the action is right?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: all the action that matters yeah</p>
    <p class="aradia">ARADIA: off we go then :)</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVEBOT: word</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">He holds out his hand. She looks around, and assumes he means for her to take it, so she does. She didn’t know someone could fly this fast. He nearly yanks her arm out of its socket. She considers reminding him that maybe this isn’t necessary, since she can fly too. But she doesn’t want to risk saying more embarrassing stuff around this outrageously cool dude. Besides, they’re through the wormhole before she can even finish the thought. It vanishes the moment they’ve crossed.</p>
    <p>The hole leaves behind an absence in the sky so calm that continuing to call it a sky wouldn’t seem to do it justice. It’s a perfectly neutral expanse into which anything one can imagine might be summoned. And for a while, anything was. But not anymore. Where the hole gaped just moments ago, there now exists an imaginary line. </p>
    <p>Above this line resides all that matters. Below exists all else. Never again the twain shall meet.</p></div>
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  "5": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            5
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he stands of the Cantown Memorial Arena are packed front to back with audience members from every kingdom. Presently the crowd is going nuts, enthralled by Jake English’s skillful posing and mollified by the deeply theatrical stage dive that Dirk has just taken onto the mat. Dirk, in fact, has unquestioningly eaten shit. His shit eating was so brutal that no one, except maybe Jake, cares that he’s taking a phone call in the middle of a live broadcast. And no one should, really. The broadcast has been going for three hours already.</p>
    <p>Dave takes a seat on the couch, right in Karkat’s butt groove. He observes his battered ecto-father, who is lying inside a wreath of busted robot limbs like a piece of absolute garbage.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: bro im watching you on the tube and i gotta say</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: while the beatdown you just received was as thorough as it was humiliating im afraid as usual the solution to this problem should probably not involve your decapitation</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you fucking drama queen</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Damn.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Are you sure?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jake just kicked your ass</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: thats really all there is to say on the matter </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re probably right. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But still not entirely sure we should be so quick to rule out my beheading as a catchall solution to any given problem. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It really could save us all a lot of trouble in the future. Especially me. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its really amazing how this meme we have going here continues to be exactly as funny as the day it was established</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Isn’t it always though?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: by the way</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how DID you get your ass kicked so bad</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jake sucks and his raps are fucking awful</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: please tell me this garbage show is as rigged as it looks</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">On the TV, Dirk makes an elegant hand sign that once might have represented solidarity with some ancient coastal rap group but now has been utterly divorced from its cultural context here on Earth C. The camera pans away from him and over the crowd. It zooms in on a young crocodile wearing an oversized T-shirt with Jake’s highly marketable ass plastered over it and the phrase “Tally ho” written in big bubble letters.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Dave, there’s such a thing as showmanship.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m sure I don’t need to explain this to you, of all people.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok cool its fake just making sure</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sigh.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We really don’t like to use that word.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: lmao ok</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Holding back a little to achieve certain results doesn’t necessarily mean you’re participating in a farce or rigging the event. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We do this all the time. We hold back our thoughts, our true feelings, our full potential. We disguise how much we know about what and when, for many purposes. To ease relations, to let others behave naturally and make up their minds without undue intervention. To wait for the right moments to show our hands, to pick our battles. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: In life, there are many reasons to show restraint, which would never be regarded as an attempt to rig reality.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oof</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: my dog you are full of some SHIT today arent you</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Absolutely.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: And when it comes to theater, there are just as many reasons for restraint. To build tension. To set the stage. To give the people someone to root against.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: is that what youre doing now</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: making people root against you</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: What, by losing a round? No, man. That’s just standard pacing stuff when it comes to battlecraft.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: no i mean by holding up the whole fight by talking to me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i can see you on tv</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: theyre booing you dude</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The crowd has indeed finally exhausted both its patience and its thirst for the ceaseless ogling of Jake’s impressive glutes. The camera swings around to focus on Dirk, who, since landing on his self-admittedly second-rate ass, has not moved except to make arcane, rap-related hand gestures. </p>
    <p>The excitable salamander manning the camera switches to a fish-eye lens for some unfathomable reason, giving the whole exchange an air of demented absurdity. Dirk’s sunglasses distort and stretch to dominate the entire screen.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Then yes, I guess that is what I’m doing.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Dirk are you going to be much longer with your telephone call?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: The crowd is getting feisty...  you didnt get too badly winded from our last scrum did you dirk?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Haha, no Jake. I’m fine. I’ll just be a minute.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: What about the agitated rabble? Theyre starting to throw things.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I don’t know. Do a dance or something. Sing a song.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They love anything you do.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ummm.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Ok sounds stupid but ill try.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake tips an imaginary hat toward center stage and begins doing the Charleston. Dave is subjected to an entire fish-eye lensful of Jake’s booty shorts flexing and constricting against his tanned thighs. </p>
    <p>Just as Dirk predicted, the crowd immediately loses its shit, except for a single carapacian in the front row, who continues to glower at Dirk with an expression of absolute and total contempt. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: why do you want people to hate you so much</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its fucked up</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re reading way too much into it. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: If I wanted another round of embarrassingly indulgent and mutually masturbatory psychoanalysis, I would have called my daughter instead.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hm</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: do i need to point out how fucking weird what you just said was or can that start going without saying at this point</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I think it can go without saying.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nice</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The point is, playing myself up as a villain figure in this hacky rap pageant has nothing to do with getting people to dislike me. Besides, everyone loves a good villain. When they boo, they don’t really mean it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I think you’d be surprised by how popular I actually am.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i dunno man</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Something flies out of the audience and smacks Dirk in the side of the head before flopping out of view of the camera. He doesn’t react, or make a facial expression at all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: did someone just throw a diaper at you</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: There’s gonna be some diapers, yeah.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: sounds bad</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: The point is, this is much less about me, and more about providing a foil for Jake’s heroism and charisma. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s very important that his popularity continues to be cultivated, to maximize his political capital.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: political capital</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what the fuck are...  </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok how long have you known about the jane thing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i mean is this something you have been planning for like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: a long time or</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Planning is such an intense word.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: god damn it</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Look, let’s just say there have been some conversations. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Does that meet with your approval?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jane is a shitty candidate dude</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: shes going to be so shitty</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I thought you’d feel that way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I respectfully disagree.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i get shes a good friend of yours and all but even you have to admit how far up her own ass she is</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Of course. I consider it to be among her best qualifications for the job.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: christ</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok if nothing else have you at least taken into account the DEVASTATION to the economy this will cause???</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You know perfectly well how much we differ on fiscal policy. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Maybe this isn’t the best time for one of our epic debates on the subject?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah what was i thinking</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wasting the time of the dude currently holding up a televised rap contest so bad hes gettin diapers thrown at him</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Dave, I think if you search your soul, you’ll come to the same conclusion I have. Jane is just what this planet needs.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We’ve all had our fun here, but it’s easy to overlook the fact that civilization on Earth C is hardly a sustainable proposition.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Just beneath the surface, it’s quite a dangerous and unstable place. </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i know that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: which is why actually i think it would be cool to have a president that is good instead of bad</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He’s not as great as you think.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: who</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: obama??</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how dare you</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: No, fool.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Karkat.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I think your heart is in the right place, but the dude is a complete amateur.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He’ll get eaten alive. I also have a hard time imagining he even wants the job.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Really, it’s an awful idea for him to even run. Think about how much it’s going to inflame the interspecies tensions on this planet. Is that what you want?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m happy for both of you, really. It’s nice that you encourage and support each other in this way. But you’re sending him on a fool’s errand which can only end badly. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dave opens his mouth to argue, but something else occurs to him.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wait</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: how do you even know hes entering the race</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: we like just decided this</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: A competent political operative has his ways.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Besides, it was always pretty obvious to me you’d react this way the moment the announcement was made.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: ok thats kinda creepy i guess but it doesnt change anything</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: hes running for president and hes going to fuckin win end of story</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Fair enough.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: though now im wondering </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: since you and jane have been planning this for a while how many key endorsements have you locked up</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: cause if youve already got jake on your side then i guess we might as well just fucking quit</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I wouldn’t worry about that.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He and I don’t quite have the rapport we once did.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: He’s “over me” and doesn’t spare opportunities to make ostentatious demonstration of this claim.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: um</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Basically he doesn’t like being told what to do. Especially not by me.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: So it’s fair to say as of now, he’s still fully in play. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Not that I should be encouraging you, really.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: you are one doubletalking son of a bitch you know that</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant tell if you dont want us to run or are reverse psychology mindfucking us into running</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Does it matter?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i guess not</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: not like i can just stand around and wait for president crocker to like</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: write fucking grammar laws into the constitution</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Good.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That’s a heroic attitude to have, which I’m pleased to hear. Even if your plan is stupid, which it is, and even if Karkat would be an atrocious president, which he would.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nuh uh</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry to cut this short, but diapers are starting to come down pretty hard right now, and some of them haven’t even had their babies removed.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: That was a joke. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Goodbye, Dave.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk hangs up the phone and wipes off his face. The mood in Cantown Memorial Arena is tense, snapping and popping from the dual cooling and heating of the audience’s expectations and tempers. An uneven silence begins to fall over the stadium as Dirk hops to his feet. Jake can’t help but watch the motion, raking his eyes over the muscles shifting beneath the skin of Dirk’s neck and arms.</p>
    <p>There is something implacably magnificent about Dirk Strider, Jake thinks, untamed like a wild game beast of incredible size and strength. Of course, their history together is never far from Jake’s mind, however many years it’s been since their last tussle of an amorous nature. The old dramas and triumphs in the days of Sburb. Dirk’s companionship has been taxing to the heart, to say the least, and yet he’s taught Jake so much—about combat, philosophy, life, love. </p>
    <p>But sometimes, despite their checkered and problematic past, Jakes wishes that he could seize Dirk by the proverbial horns and wrest him bodily into becoming a much more agreeable fellow. Then again, who would Dirk be if he weren’t so contentious and imperious? Certainly not someone to inspire such wistful lollygagging, Jake cannot help but observe.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry for the momentary diversion, Jake. Now where were we?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Momentary??? Gadzooks man you were on the phone for half a friggin hour!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I know you like to get the crowd all hot and bothered but we are supposed to be professionals here!</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re right, my bad. Won’t happen again.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: How about you kick off the next round?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I bet this crowd will settle its shit right down the moment you drop the latest rhymes you’ve been tinkering with.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You know the ones.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Gasp.</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You dont mean... </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh. But I DO.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jake’s face lights up. He composes himself, adjusting a bow tie, although he is not wearing one, and making a vague gesture like he’s twirling one end of that mustache Dirk has not yet let him grow. Dirk lets him go with a gentle smile, like the sort you’d give to a dog for performing a trick adequately. Jake responds to the signal like an Olympic athlete hearing the starter pistol. He was born for this.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Tally ho its me, jake mcgee!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Popping my pistols off, two shots and a kiss</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: My aim is tops, i never miss</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: One shot to the heart and the other to your lips</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im heedless</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: You cant impede this</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: While these cads are all hat and very little cattle</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Cattle so weak one fears they might be feedless!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: As i prattle and digress you try to make your egress</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: In the middle of the battle, but surely ye jest?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: FIDDLE FADDLE!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: My rhymes are known to bring the rattle</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: I rattle those bones right down to the bit</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im a mellifluous old chap who knows how to take a hit</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im the tip...  </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Tip top of the morning!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: A rip roaring halt to your snoring</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Like pouring butter on bacon </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Their hunger awakens!</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: All the rascally scalawags </p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: And dastardly jackanapes</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Always ask of me, mate what is shaking?</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: With golden gas pipes such as jake-eng’s</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Im dodging their shade and ducking their jape-slings</p>
    <p class="jake">JAKE: While my rump stokes a thirst that my rhymes have been slaking!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The crowd, as Dirk rightly predicted, has settled its shit right down. This is not due to any accidental brilliance on the part of Jake English, but rather due to an abashed but loyal brand of pity, the kind a devoted fan cannot help but feel when they see a beloved celebrity make an ass out of themselves during a live broadcast they have waited two and a half years in line to buy a ticket for.</p>
    <p>Dirk’s phone begins going off again.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: When the splendid lads and ladies ask me “how do you do?” i -</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Whoops. Jake, sorry to cut you off...  </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Looks like I’m getting another call. Really need to take this one.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Gonna have to wrap this battle up sooner than scheduled.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">With a casual flick of his wrist, Dirk snaps out a bright red tranquilizer handgun and shoots Jake in the neck. Jake’s glasses crack when he hits the mat. A chorus of boos rises up from the crowd like groundwater. Dirk artfully dodges a bucket of obscene troll fluid to field yet another very important personal call.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Yo Rose, what’s up?</p>
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  "6": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            6
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="Command" style="margin-top:0">&gt; Look up.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">The sky is really blue. But it’s a different kind of blue than Earth C’s sky; it’s <em>less</em>, somehow, like someone took a photo of the sky and turned the contrast down a little, just enough to make the clouds blend into the horizon. That is to say, it isn’t the kind of sky promised by a paradise planet. Just an ordinary one. You realize suddenly how much you’ve missed the ordinary, as opposed to the supposedly perfect.</p>
    <p>You’ve been away from home almost as many years as you lived there. It’s not just the sky. Everything else is exactly and nothing like you remembered it: the scent of damp grass, the quality of the air, the solitude. There’s nothing but white houses and maple trees as far as the eye can see. A woodpecker raps away incessantly at the tree with the tire swing outside your old bedroom window. </p>
    <p>You couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, so you and your little army are sitting in a circle in your old backyard exactly one week before the meteors hit. It’s you, Rose, Dave, Jade, and all four of your teenage progenitors, each dressed in god tier garb. No trolls. No one who can die from anything less than a heroic sacrifice. At least, this is what you assume to be the reasoning for Rose’s instructions to assemble your party this way.</p>
    <p>Wind slices down the street, between the neat rows of bungalows. It’s chilly, carrying air from the mountaintops with it. Even that feels different. The wind moves through you now, under your skin and right into your bones, skimming their hollows the same way it does the homes of your salamander neighbors, or the open mailbox in front of your childhood house. </p>
    <p>The smell of a cake baking wafts from the open window and the sick stench of browning sugar fills the yard. You used to hate that too, but now it makes you want to—</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Dude, don’t cry in front of all the cool teen versions of your friends. </p>
    <p class="no-indent">You hold back your tears with a big, ugly snort. Jake is sort of ruining the mood anyway by bouncing away on your old Green Slime pogo. Doesn’t he realize how dangerous that thing is? Of course not. The fool.</p>
    <p>Dave fractures the silence by broaching a subject that’s on everyone’s mind but yours, apparently.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so whats gonna happen to everyone we left in the wrecked time line</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, well. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t know actually. i’ve been to that time line four times now and it always pretty much goes to shit.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: This has been bothering me as well. Is Kanaya going to be ok?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And by Kanaya, I guess I mean... everyone?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: yeah what about karkat</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and terezi</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: and the MAYOR??</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: oh my god!!!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: actually dave, i hate to say it but... </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i think john might have actually saved the mayor by bringing us all here?</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: what could that possibly even mean</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i just remembered......</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: before john zapped us all here, and unbrainwashed me</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: .....i think i was going to kill the mayor :(</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: wtf jade no</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jade that is seriously uncool</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i KNOW!</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: i was gonna kick him right into the lava!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: that is fucked up on so many levels i dont even know where to begin </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its like an escher staircase of cartoon villainy </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i got nothing</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: its so</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: so...  </p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: grimbark? :B woof woof</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: jesus no jade its stone cold evil </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant believe you just said that shit and then woofed at me</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant even look at you right now </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, everyone, can we...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Everyone turns to look at you immediately, like you’re an authority. Which you kind of are. You are struck with the sudden and uncomfortable realization that you are the only adult in the yard. You’ve never felt like an adult until this moment. Eighteen came and went and nothing really changed except that you’re pretty certain you could grow a bitchin’ mustache now if you wanted. And you might even have one by now, if you didn’t feel a sense of duty to uphold the sacred Egbert family tradition of shaving at least once per day, even if it isn’t really necessary. You owe at least that much to the memory of your departed father.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: let’s chill out for a minute. i’m sure this is all very confusing to all of you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: about the time line you’re leaving behind... yeah, i get it. it’s weird.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve already left one major time line behind. well, two if you count the one i just came from, where we’re all adults.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the truth is, i have no idea what happens to these time lines and all the people living in them, when i just... zap out of them, to use my retcon powers to change stuff?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: they might stop existing completely. i don’t know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the thing is, we can’t really think about it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s tough, but if we’re all acting like heroes here, and trying to do the right thing, then we have to put it all behind us.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s a sacrifice we’re making. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, we’re risking our lives by fighting a powerful monster, sure.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but the sacrifice i’m talking about... is saying goodbye to the life we thought we belonged to, and all the people in it.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: probably forever.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it sucks, and i’m sorry i had to ask this of you all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but there’s no other way. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: everyone who has ever existed, and will ever exist, is counting on us... i think?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Shrug.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s all you can think to do to punctuate your speech of lukewarm inspirational value. Judging from the confused looks from the others, all of them may share your assessment of your own oratorical skills, except for one person. She’s perked up at your spiel, regarding you with alert and admiring eyes.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: damn</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john uh</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: i know we just met and all but</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: that was a fine ass speech and idk if i speak for the rest of my peeps here but im fuckin psyched</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lets do this shit</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She *wonks* at you.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You weren’t prepared to get passively hit on by the Definitely Not Legal version of a girl you used to have a crush on at the age she was when you first met her, only a few hours after you watched the Actually Legal version of her engage in passionate hand-holding with her possibly aromantic skeleton alien monster girlfriend. You start to sweat, and again the unwelcome odor of undercooked meat emanating from your body makes itself known to your nose.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, um. thanks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway, we need to make battle plans.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You quickly distance your mind from any additional discomfiting thoughts about your old and semi-ex flame, and propel yourself into a wildly unrehearsed tactical planning session. You review each of your abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, and then cobble together a reasonably sound approach to besieging a young and bratty version of Lord English by way of surprise attack. The planning is mostly disorganized and structureless, although some common themes that often recur involve you and your original three friends leading the charge, since you are the oldest and wisest, and therefore the strongest, with the exception of Jade, whose gaudy array of powers make her the most formidable of the group, bar none. Aside from that, it appears the consensus is that the melee will likely devolve into an absolute free-for-all—at least going by the general patterns of incoherent banter, shit-talking, and points of pedantic tactical disagreement plaguing the jam session. You overhear someone making mention of... a huge, gay hope bubble? That can’t be right, but you didn’t catch who said it. A flamboyant pink spell? Yeah, this conversation is off the rails now.</p>
    <p>At the precise moment you believe the meeting has outlasted its usefulness, Jake does you the favor of effectively pounding the gavel for adjournment by rocking back a bit too far on your lawn pogo and launching himself over the top of the ride on the next bounce. He face-plants right into the dirt.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: Jeepers!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk goes to help your yard clean the Jake off its dirt. Jade follows, to help out. It seems she wants to chat with Jake, considering it’s the first time they’ve met, from her perspective. Some eruptions of chatter can be heard from other members of the group. It’s easy to forget, since the reunion between your friends and all your young relatives happened so long ago from your point of view, but this is all quite novel to everyone here. They’ve hardly had a moment to process it, since your plan to drag them all off to fight Lord English has understandably stolen the thunder of an otherwise poignant homecoming. Poor kids, you think.</p>
    <p>You decide to give the teens some space to work through their shit before you take off to save the universe. You end up wandering all the way around to the other side of your house, and back, until you reach a window facing the neighbor’s fence. You can see straight into your dad’s study from here. You go still. Feet rooted to the ground, heart hammering in your ribs. Your dad’s sitting right there, smoking his pipe and operating his professional-looking, boring, gray PDA. He’s got the kitchen timer set up on his desk, and you can hear the notes of his favorite fatherly jazz album filtering out through the window, which is open only an inch.</p>
    <p>The sun is hitting the glass in such a way that you can’t see his face.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; This is probably the last time you’ll ever have the chance to talk to him...  </p>
    <p class="no-indent">The urge is overwhelming. But you can’t, and not just because your feet won’t move and your throat is closing up. It’s just that... it would be a really bad idea to bother him. It would totally freak him out, to have an adult version of his son show up out of the blue and knock on his window like a creep. He probably wouldn’t even recognize you.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Fair enough. It’s time to go, John.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You return to the backyard. Your teen friends have split off into genetically segmented groups: Roxy and Rose sitting in the grass, Jade and your shared ecto-parents laughing together by the Green Slime pogo, and the Striders leaning against the farthest fence, with a tense foot and a half of space between them. It’s heartwarming. But something doesn’t feel right about it to you, possibly for selfish reasons. It’s the selfishness of your own perspective, of wanting the memories you had of the reunion between all these people to be the most notable and legitimate manifestation of this event. To see the moment echo, or play out all over again, to overhear the heartfelt confessions repeat themselves... It feels cheap. To you, that is. To the man who lived through it all before and selfishly doesn’t want to have the memory tarnished with a tawdry reprisal, an exhibition of counterfeit emotional catharsis among pale shadows of those you care about most in the world.</p>
    <p>You wonder. Do you see these teen versions of your friends as “real”? Are you treating them, at Rose’s behest, as simple puppets? Doing your part to insist they fill friend-shaped recesses in an essential plan to stabilize all else that can be considered important, a distinction no longer applying to them? Do you care at all about whatever fate it may be that you are sentencing these children to? Are you becoming as complicit in the fatalistic evils of Paradox Space as Lord English himself? Are you becoming a monster, John Egbert?</p>
    <p>You can’t bear to watch them bond any further than this. Nor can you tolerate another moment of your self-incriminating reverie. You wait one more minute before breaking it up, but not a second longer.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, hey kids...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Please, Adult John, don’t do that.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose gets up from the grass, elegant as a fold in paper, and brushes down her skirt. She tilts her head at you, looking very much like your Rose did when she saw you off that morning. It’s obvious that she’s trying very hard to hide her apprehension. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is it time to go?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, if you want to be technical. i can zap us in wherever, whenever. we have all the time in the universe if we want it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But if we don’t leave now, you’re afraid we never will?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heh. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">After all these years, in the reverse direction, she still has your number.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess it’s true that people don’t really change. they just grow up?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose gives Roxy a strange look, appearing to silently acknowledge an entire conversation that has been taking place, using a great volume of words that aren’t being spoken.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I guess.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She smiles.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Get the show on the road.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: okay everyone... i’ve never zapped this many people before so let’s all just...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, hold hands, maybe? in a circle, i mean. that should work.</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: god this is so lame</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: its not lame its perfect!!!</p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: nah</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: shh!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: alright. is everyone ready, then?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Only Jade says yes enthusiastically. Everyone else takes a deep breath and looks around at each other. Hands are taken, some tentatively, some firmly. When all sweaty teenage palms are correctly clasped, you place your own hand on Jade’s shoulder and concentrate on where you need to go.</p>
    <p>The last thing you hear before zapping away is your dad’s kitchen timer going off in his study.</p></div>
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  "7": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            7
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">T</span>he boxing bell is going off like it’s having a fit. Dirk has to stick a finger in one ear to hear what Rose is saying over the cacophony of boos and buckets being lobbed toward center stage. He considers it all pretty fucking annoying, so he flips off the crowd and jumps the ropes. Always a good idea to abscond from the stadium before the customary show-end riot hits full swing.</p>
    <p>The last standing robot scoops up Jake’s unconscious body and cradles him to its chest before blasting off through the roof.</p>
    <p>On the other end of the phone, Rose lets him know what’s up.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s not so much “what is up” as “what is down,” the answer to which is, proverbially: Me. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I mean that both physically and philosophically by the way.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: You’re down philosophically?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I’m not sure what that actually means.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What doesn’t it mean, Dirk.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Glad to see that my genetic predisposition for melodrama is still alive and well in my slime-progeny even after all these years.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Please don’t interrupt. This is important, and I’ll need all the energy I can spare to sustain even a heavily monologic transmission of the relevant facts.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I see. Forgive my brief, casual interjection into the conversation you initiated. Please continue.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Thank you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Anyway, the matter at hand is my “condition,” with which you’re already familiar.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’ve struggled to devise the right way of telling you without causing undue alarm, which would unquestionably trigger the overbearing tendency of yours to “solve the problem” for me, which is not the kind of circumstance my constitution can withstand these days. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I can barely lift a wrist to my forehead to telegraph my infirmity, of late. Your bullshit is precisely the thousand-pound feather that could knock me clean through my apartment’s plate glass window.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: This is troubling to hear, of course. But rest assured, I’m taking solace in the fact that your infirmity doesn’t seem to have spread to your vocal cords yet.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: See, Dirk? This is exactly the shit I don’t need from you on this day.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sorry.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The bottom line is this.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I am ascending, and it is terrible.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose adjusts her position on the couch with the body language of one about to dive into the latest gossip about a mutual friend. The mutual in this case: her tortured psyche.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Years of refining my Seer of Light powers have cursed me with what is approaching near infinite prescience. Dwelling in this idyllic post-canon realm has worn down the barriers separating my primary consciousness from the memories and experiences of all my doomed alternate selves, which were forgotten and discarded over the due course of our journey.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: As I approach the realization of my Ultimate Self, I cannot stop the extant knowledge from seeping in. I am plagued by near constant visions from the less fortunate versions of myself, as well as a broadening view of the metatextual nature of our existence.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Day by day I get closer to comprehending the full picture of the narrative.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: However, I am still trapped in this limited body. There is only so much strain that my very finite synapses can take.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It drains all of my energy to keep my consciousness focused on relevant events, but even then I am losing my ability to discern what is and is not canonically relevant, let alone what is also true or essential.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And all of this is making me incredibly fucking sick.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Oh. Is that all?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: ... </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, in the spirit of full disclosure,</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Same.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose is silent on the line for a few moments. Dirk can hear how labored her breathing is, how thin it is. She snorts out a quick, humorless laugh.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Really?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: That’s the hottest take you can manage?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Of course not. They haven’t built the vessel yet that can withstand the temperatures of atmospheric entry into one of my hotter takes, let alone the hottest.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It wasn’t a take. It was an empathetic admission toward my pitiable, similarly omniscience-stricken offspring.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: We are suffering from the same condition, Rose.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She allows several rare conversational beats to pass in silence between them, to process the admission.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We are?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Sure.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It doesn’t sound to me like you’re suffering much at all.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Well, I’m not.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I guess I used the wrong phrase. You are suffering from it. I am adapting to it. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: I already have, really.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: When were you going to tell me this?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: When you were ready.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So you have determined that I’m ready to receive this rather critical piece of information now, of all times?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What distinguishes the present from the other moments you could have mentioned it?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Were you waiting for the effects of my condition to become so unendurable that I finally felt the need to explain what was happening to me in full?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Were you, in essence, waiting for a cry for help?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Wow. Well, when you put it that way, it makes me sound like kind of a dick.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: But I guess it isn’t far from the truth, either. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Unbelievable.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Look, it’s not something you just spring on people that frivolously.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “Hey folks, just so you know, the boundaries of my awareness are coming apart, and now I know almost everything, about everyone, everywhere.”</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “Also, the process should be tearing my body apart, but actually I’m handling it quite well. Thanks for the concern though.”</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: “Anyway, just thought I’d keep y’all fuckin’ abreast. On my incomprehensible brain and all. Peace.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Fine. You’re a cagey guy. This isn’t breaking news.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m not pissed at you, I’m just...  </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So confused. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Why aren’t you suffering the same effects as me?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: There will be time to explain all this. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Despite whatever appearance of callousness I’ve maintained in withholding this information from you, I actually do have your best interests in mind. I don’t want to wear you out on this call. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: There’s so much more to say, but it can wait.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: For now, I’ll just mention that I’ve been alert to your problem for some time, and I’ve been devising a solution which should permanently remedy it without compromising the boon of your expanding consciousness.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You have?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What is it?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Would love to tell you, but I’ve got some work to do. Why don’t you stop by my studio later so we can hash this shit out in person. </p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Right now, you should get some rest.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Actually, I’m feeling oddly invigorated suddenly. I think I’m good for more exposition, if you are.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Can’t say I’m surprised. But no.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Have I caught you at a bad time?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Nah, but there is an election coming up, and my work as a political operative is going to be absolutely essential for the fate of humanity.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see. Wheels within wheels, I assume?</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: There are always wheels. Wheels are everywhere.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They aren’t my wheels or yours. The wheels don’t have owners or designers, but they do have caretakers.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: They won’t keep turning on their own without someone to grease the mechanism.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What a burden it must be, to recognize oneself as the sole machinist of reality itself.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: It’s a curse, but somebody’s gotta do it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Save your strength. Come to my studio when you’re feeling up to it.</p>
    <p class="dirk">DIRK: Goodbye. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Dirk hangs up without waiting for a reply. He cracks his neck and tips down his shades so that he can appreciate the full brunt of the sunset: purple and orange, blending brilliantly on the horizon.</p>
    <p>She’s right about him, he thinks. While his ecto-daughter views herself as having a somewhat deft artistic hand that lends itself naturally to a gentle push-and-pull style of influence, Dirk knows his methods are mechanical, like those of an engineer. There is nothing adaptive or interpretive about his method. Every piece has a purpose, a slot, an interlocking mechanism that is functionally pointless without the whole. </p>
    <p>Dirk, satisfied with this moment of particularly astute self-reflection, rocks back on his heels and launches himself into the sky.</p></div>
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  "8": |-
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            8
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="Command" style="margin-top:0">&gt; JOHN: Zap to your final destination.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Where the hell are you?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="dave">DAVE: where the hell are we </p>
    <p class="dave">DAVE: i cant see shit</p>
    <p class="jade">JADE: shhh!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s dark. Not like “someone turned out the lights out” dark. More like “someone destroyed the concept of light at its very source” dark. It’s a darkness that fills up your skull. Jake puts this more eloquently, as always:</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="jake">JAKE: By golly it is indeed dark as fuck.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shoosh!!!</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Jade breaks off from the group. She moves through the air gracefully, ears twitching as she sniffs through space like a bloodhound. “There!” she exclaims, and points down. All the way down.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Look down.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">All the way down beneath you there is a light source. Gray, focused—like a spotlight, except that it’s folded over the curvature of the space beneath it. At the center of it stands teenage Lord English, all decked out in his ostentatious god tier jammies. Gamzee’s there too, for some unfathomably stupid reason. There’s a robot bunny chilling out on top of a chest, lookin’ cool and kicking its cute little bunny legs back and forth. You hope that neither of these unexpected dramatis personae will play a role in the coming battle, because it wouldn’t feel right whaling on either of them at this point.</p>
    <p>Lord English is holding something that looks like... Lil Cal? It’s definitely Lil Cal, and Lord English is definitely waltzing around with it in his little spotlight in the middle of the nowhere, swinging the puppet around by both its floppy arms. Well, rather, he <em>was</em> waltzing around. He stopped the moment you looked at him.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Behold your adversary.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: ... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You simply refuse to answer his question. Instead, you do something so much better. Something that will make both his inevitable fate and your regard for his character incontrovertibly clear.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Give him a thumbs-down.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">It’s a textbook thumbs-down. Better, actually. The kind you can’t really teach. Lord English drops the puppet. For a moment he looks shocked, maybe even a little afraid, but it passes quickly. He starts laughing.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: NEVERMIND. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: IT WAS FORETOLD. BY THE MASTERPIECE I MADE. WHEN I WAS BUT A BOY.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: BE QUIET.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT YOU JUST INTERRUPTED A GROUNDBREAKING INTERPRETIVE ART PIECE.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: IT WAS THE FIRST OF ITS KIND. PERFORMED ONLY ONCE. AND MADE MORE VALUABLE FOR ITS RARENESS.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: I SAID SHUT UP. IT’S RUDE TO TALK THROUGH THE OVERTURE.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: BUT DON’T WORRY. ALTHOUGH YOU MISSED MY VERY IMPORTANT DANCE DEMONSTRATION.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: WHICH WAS AN UNPRECEDENTED ACT OF GENIUS. AND NOT AT ALL EMBARRASSING.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: NOW YOU WILL PARTICIPATE IN SOMETHING EVEN MORE IMPORTANT.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">The young Lord’s face begins to distort. The unhinging of his jaw reverberates in the empty space. He laughs through the remainder of his nefarious soliloquy, which he has possibly prepared in advance for this moment.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: BY NOW, SURELY MANY HAVE WITNESSED MY MASTERPIECE.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: AS IT HAS CIRCULATED THROUGH THE BLACK VEINS. OF THE DARK WEB.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: TRILLIONS HAVE WITNESSED ITS MAJESTY. HATERS AND FOOLS ALIKE.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: AND THEY HAVE BEEN RENDERED *AGOG*.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: BY MY ART VIRTUOSITY. MY CLAYSMANSHIP. AND MY WRESTLING MOVES.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: BUT NOW. THE TIME HAS COME.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: FOR EVERYONE TO SHUT UP ABOUT HOW GREAT MY MASTERPIECE WAS.</p>
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: AND THE TIME IS NOW AT HAND...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">His laughter turns into a low, cracked gurgle. It spikes towards you in waves, distorts and pitches low. He is beyond pleased with himself, and with the line he is about to deliver.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md" style="margin-bottom:0">
    <p class="caliborn">CALIBORN: FOR YOU ALL TO *BECOME* MY MASTERPIECE!</p>
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  "9": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">EPILOGUE TWO</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-sm">
            9
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"> <p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">I</span>f you were one of the haters and fools who saw Lord English’s masterpiece circulating through the black veins of the dark web, and were rendered agog by its majesty, then you probably have a pretty good sense of what happened next. You probably also wouldn’t be rendered that much additionally agog if you were told it didn’t happen precisely as conveyed by the young Lord’s expertly produced claymation theater. </p>
    <p>Would it be that surprising if the first four heroes weren’t immediately captured in the juju, as the dark web swan song broadcast through bogus Vine videos originally depicted? Probably not. Would it raise any eyebrows if the action turned out to be a bit sloppier than that? A bloody nose here. A stray wedgie there. Someone trips on a cape. Loud eruptions of the word “Ow.” Petulant insults, smack talk, crude gestures, and stray honks from the sidelines. Would it rock anyone’s world to discover the stop-motion feature did not treat this battle royale with the utmost fidelity?</p>
    <p>No one who witnessed the spectacle online would react to these discrepancies with much surprise. But you are not such a witness. You are still John Egbert, and you had no idea what sort of raucous teen pandemonium to expect when you zapped into the lair of your nemesis to throw down. Which is why you were completely blindsided when, upon feeling overwhelmed by the melee, Caliborn sprung his gambit on you and your three best friends to even the odds. </p>
    <p>He opened his little red chest, and out came his white, house-shaped juju, levitating there, threatening to behave as the weapon many treasure hunters throughout history have described it to be. Upon a second look, it’s not quite white though. It’s colorless, null. A house-shaped hole in your confining reality. A hole that insists on being filled.</p>
    <p>You tried to resist its overwhelming pull, but to no avail. The force is too strong. Not like the sucking from the vacuum of space, or the tug from a gravitational singularity. It was more overpowering than any force in nature. Almost... metatextual. Not negating your powers, your strength to resist, so much as it seemed to overwrite them.</p>
    <p>The juju sucked you, Rose, Dave, and Jade into its void at the speed of eternity squashed down to a half second. You landed in the abstract prison it contains face-first, alone, and with a force that made you flip over a few times and skid along by the flat of your chin. You groped for your glasses instinctively, finding them in two cracked halves. You cradled their remains as you looked up.</p>
    <p>The blurry, distorted face of your laughing nemesis was the last thing you saw before the chest door slammed shut and plunged you into textual obsolescence.</p>
    <p>And here, you are now stuck. You will not emerge from this holding cell, from an outside perspective, for quadrillions of years. It is not long at all until you begin to wish you had brought something to read.</p></div>
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"prologue":
  "1": |-
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-header line-tight type-xl">PROLOGUE</h2>
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-md">
            1
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">I</span>t starts with a crack. Everything else rises up from that like steam: a trembling thread that cuts through space in jagged lines, splintering the void into razor-sharp shards of putrefying leptons and quarks popping apart like raw eggs in a microwave. It’s coming undone at a subatomic level, from the bottom up, from the inside out. From the top down it looks like the eye of a storm—a black hole so supermassive that it spans the width of eternity. It turns infinity into something as thin and fragile as cellophane; shreds it of its dimensions, a piece of paper pinched together at either end, a hole poked through it. </p>
    <p>At the center of that hole the edges can be heard fraying. Pandemonium, as continuity buckles in the middle and the two ends come smashing together. Around the hole, ghosts scream. They claw at the dying borders of their dreams with fingernail-chipping desperation. They whip together like the wind, trailing the mutilated streaks of their hypothetical futures with them. It’s a multifractal neon cyclone of primordial conclusion. A churning blender of hyperfinal, catastrophically terminal, overwhelmingly permanent double-death. The screaming distorts and plunges low as it gets closer to the cavity.</p>
    <p>At the center, that distortion turns into an eerie music. That’s where the cacophony ends—the shattering, the screaming, the squelching, the sounds of elemental particles being torn apart like string cheese shoved through a meat grinder, then dumped down a strangely melodious garbage disposal. It all returns to the same tonic dominant, matching pitch and tone, ironing out the rebellious flats and sharps until the discordance becomes exquisite. A subharmonic symphony that can only be heard in the bones. At the <em>dead center</em> of the event, it is extremely quiet. A silence made of all the suffering that limitless sempiternity can hold, bleeding together until the prism turns to obsidian. It’s too vast to comprehend, too black to behold without closing your eyes. Retreating to the back of your own eyelids is to seek the comfort of a familiar darkness. It is to reject an absolute tenebrosity so perfectly alien, it threatens to rip the humanity right through your eye sockets.</p>
    <p>This is the end of everything. This is the end of Paradox Space. You... </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Wake up.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had a terrible, deeply pretentious nightmare. You snap out of bed, soaked in sweat, your heart hammering like a fire alarm. It is just as you feared. </p>
    <p>You’ve been dreaming in anime again. And you have no idea what it could mean.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Look outside just to make absolutely sure the world is not ending.</p>
    <p>The sun is coming in through your window in bars of soft yellow. The only sound you can hear for miles is the wind skimming the hollows of your neighbors’ pipe homes. It’s a normal day in the salamander village, which you refer to as Salamander Village because the damned salamanders never bothered to give this village a name, you guess. Absolutely nothing of note has ever happened here in the entire history of the planet, which you would know, because you created it.</p>
    <p>Beside your pillow, your phone is vibrating. Rose is calling. The screen of your phone reads 9:30 a.m. April 13, and also the number forty-six, which is how many text messages your friend left you while you were sleeping. A bit excessive, even for her.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Answer the phone.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Since when are you known to operate your telephone?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: since... i don’t know. has it really been that long since i called?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I can’t remember the last time. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: neither can i. anyway, what’s up?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: First of all, happy birthday. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, yeah. thanks.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: fuck, i forgot.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Am I correct in presuming this April Thirteenth will be as uneventful as the last?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i don’t want to do anything this year. i hope that’s ok.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Of course it’s ok. It’s your birthday after all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose...</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You wander to the window and watch the salamanders go about their day. All over the neighborhood, the little dad-salamanders are putting on their little rumpled hats and picking up their little suitcases and kissing their little families goodbye for the day. You’ve always been confused about what, exactly, they contribute to the global economy. But it’s pretty cute how much they love playing at being suburban businessmen. </p>
    <p class="no-indent">The silence over the phone is growing awkward. You’ve stalled long enough. You decide to just come out and say it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’ve been dreaming in anime again lately.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i have no idea what it could mean.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I see.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s horrible, every time.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i don’t mean because anime is bad or anything. it’s not that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: whenever i have these dreams, everything’s breaking apart.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: millions of people are screaming and dying.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, dying permanently. not the kind of bullshit dying that we’ve been doing a lot over the years.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A couple yards over, a salamander blows an astounding spit bubble. Truly one for the books. Your eyes trace its meandering journey into the sky as you gather your thoughts.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: what do you think it all means?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: What do I think ‘what’ means?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what do you think it means that i’ve been dreaming in anime?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t have the slightest idea what it means that you’ve been dreaming in anime, John. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: To be honest, I... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You wait for Rose to finish her thought. She doesn’t, which is troubling because you have never known Rose to leave a thought unfinished in over ten years of acquaintance. You suppose it’s possible it may have happened one of the times she died. You wouldn’t bet on it though.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose... are you ok?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Not exactly.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what’s wrong?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I think my condition’s been getting worse lately.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: condition?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s why my message probably sounded urgent.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you left 46 messages.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes. They were all urgent.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t think I can wait much longer before telling you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I held out for as long as I could. I figured your birthday was as good a time as any to let you know.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: let me know what?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s crept up on me, these last couple of years.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Gradually enough to ignore as it was happening, but I can’t anymore.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Lately the visions have been overwhelming.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: visions??</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John, I have terrible headaches these days. Talking on the phone doesn’t help at all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Would you mind flying to my apartment, so we can continue this in person?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, yeah. you mean...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: now?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, now is the time.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’ve put it off long enough.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You move the phone away from your ear and assume an expression you haven’t practiced in years. It is the look of a man who actually has something to do. Holding the phone directly in front of your face, you speak into the receiver. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, i’m on my way. bye, rose.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">As you hang up the phone, a familiar feeling settles over you. A feeling of...standing? Standing, and being alone. In your bedroom. As a young man. On your birthday. You swear you’ve felt this feeling before. It’s almost like... </p>
    <p class="Normal ParaOverride-7"><span class="Standard-Text">A young man stands alone in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, is this young man’s birthday. Though it was twenty-three years ago when he was given life, and ten years ago when he was given a name, it feels like it is only today that he will begin to understand what all that means.</span></p>
    <p class="Normal ParaOverride-7"><span class="Standard-Text">That young man is YOU, John Egbert.</span></p>
    <p class="Normal ParaOverride-7"><span class="Standard-Text">What will you do?</span></p></div>
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  "2": |-
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    <h3 class="disp-ib type-hsep-header line-tight type-lg pad-t-md">
            2
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">W</span>hen you arrive at Rose’s apartment, you find her asleep on the couch. You slide the balcony door open, quietly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Her eyes flutter open. She looks like a ghost, and not the kind of ghost that looks and acts exactly like an alive person. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: How... how long have I been sleeping?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i dunno. i just got here.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you ok?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’ll be fine.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that looks like a lot of pills you’re taking there. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yeah. It’s not what you’re thinking though.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what am i thinking?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: These are controlled substances that have been prescribed by a legitimate doctor to ease the symptoms of my condition. I am using them only as instructed.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok??</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So there’s nothing to worry about.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but you said you have a condition. isn’t that...bad?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You watch her rise in stages. Her arm is trembling where she’s bracing it on the couch.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh. Yes. The condition itself is not ideal, obviously. And perhaps it does constitute something to worry about, in the context of a different conversation. All I’m trying to say is, I’m not backsliding, if that’s what you’re wondering.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You spend several pregnant moments saying nothing at all in response to this. You examine Rose’s supine, languid form on the couch, optimistic that she will continue speaking any moment now.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I struggled with substance abuse for a while, years ago. Remember?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: rose, jesus. i wasn’t going to accuse you of being a drug addict, and i didn’t fly over here to give you an intervention.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it sounded like you had some important stuff to tell me, and the fact that you also seem to be sick is more than a little alarming!</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I wouldn’t say I’m sick.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Just having spectacularly debilitating headaches as a result of my visions becoming more frequent.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are these visions you’re having?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m a Seer of Light, John.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so you mean like, your standard psychic visions about the future and stuff?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what’s going to happen? should we be worried?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It doesn’t technically pertain to the future. Well, not our future. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: My abilities have broadened considerably beyond their previous horizon. They shed light on many unseen events. Past, present, future, in realities and frames of reference that have no intersection with ours at all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It seems to be an unfortunate side effect of god tier abilities. They can advance at a rate beyond one’s physical ability to keep up with.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Fortunately it doesn’t seem to be happening to anyone other than me. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, can’t say i’ve noticed anything like that.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or improvement in my powers for that matter.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s not about gaining additional power, so much as the gradual dissolving of the boundaries between your own awareness and that of your many doomed selves who perished in other timelines. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s a slow and apparently rather uncomfortable accretion of knowledge. Perhaps I’m the only one to notice any change, since my aspect explicitly relates to knowledge. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess that all makes sense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so what are these visions showing you?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Many things. They’re quite disjointed, and sometimes hard to rearrange into coherence. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But in totality, I have pieced together a greater understanding of our present situation and all the events that led us here.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You watch Rose stagger to her feet and cross the apartment. At the kitchenette, she knocks back another pill with a practiced motion, no water. Her vacant stare drills into the countertop as she quietly waits for the medication to take effect. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ...and?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what is it about our situation that you wanted to tell me?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is it bad?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Good and bad are words that don’t mean anything, beyond a certain threshold of mortal consideration.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There’s a different scale I’ve come to understand. Another dichotomy that’s less... emotional, I guess?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Consider, instead of the word “good,” using the word “essential.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And what exists at the opposite polarity from essential is... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Something that is best not to contemplate.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what are you talking about?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: this sounds fucked up.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, that sounds like a reaction you would definitely have to the things I’m telling you.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I really should cut it out, and just start from the beginning.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You follow Rose to the balcony. She raises a hand and points directly into the clear blue sky. She points with purpose, as if to say, <span class="Standard-Text CharOverride-14">there</span><span class="Standard-Text">. Right there, precisely, is where the green sun would be, if it still existed. </span></p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The green sun is gone.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what??</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It has been destroyed. At least, from the current frame of reference it has.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It still existed, and therefore in a way that’s hard to explain, currently exists, over a nearly infinite span of time, presiding over the birth and death of countless universes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But this universe, our universe, is not one of them.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you saw this in a vision?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No. Jade told me.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: she did?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how does she know?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: She can’t draw from its power anymore. She no longer has the ability of a First Guardian.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It has been this way for several years. I suspect she has kept this fact on the downlow, however.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s... </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: surprising, i guess?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or maybe not. i dunno, it’s not like she tells me a whole lot these days.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s also not like she’s had any particular need to unleash the full fury of the green sun, not while she’s been gallivanting around with Dave and Karkat under whatever perplexing social arrangement they have settled on.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Anyway, her account of the sun’s destruction syncs up with the data supplied by my visions. I have no doubt it’s gone.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how did that happen?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It doesn’t matter much, for our purposes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There was a cataclysmic event. A suicide strike by a very powerful being. Much like the one Dave and I attempted, once upon a time.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But it turned out the explosive force we released was only a catalyst. A causal gesture. What was needed to destroy the sun was a consumptive assault.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: consumptive?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The entire sun was swallowed by a supermassive black hole. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I digress though. </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You press your eyes shut, just for a moment. Behind them you see <em>a black hole so supermassive that it spans the width of eternity.</em></p>
    <p>You quickly open your eyes again, and pretend to forget what you just saw. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There’s really no route through this expository garden path that will adequately cushion you from the bottom line, John.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You will need to travel back into canon and defeat Lord English.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You... </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Shrug and try to look casual.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You pull off the most casual shrug that a guy has ever shrugged when being presented with the inevitability of his own fate. If Rose were looking at you right now, she would be totally convinced that you are approaching this topic with a level of nonchalance that is entirely plausible and genuine. You’re sure of it. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i had a feeling that was going to come up again someday.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m sure we all did. That is, even those of us without visions.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was doing my best not to think about it. i guess we can’t put it off any longer then?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Now is the time. We are rapidly approaching a point of no return. If the decision isn’t made soon, it will be too late. The issue will no longer matter.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: when exactly is the point of no return?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Today.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wow. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok then.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: first, one question. um...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Why what?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: why do i need to go back and beat him?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, sorry if this is a stupid question. i guess he’s a huge awful monster, and that’s just what you’re supposed to do with huge awful monsters. take them down for their crimes, and such.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but why does he actually need to be defeated at all? to be honest, it’s been years since we’ve even bothered thinking about any of this, and everything seems... </p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Take a look around and survey the current status of all life on Earth, which is totally possible to do from the vantage point of a single apartment balcony. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: fine?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Of course everything is fine here.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We’re outside of canon now.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, i know. what does that actually MEAN though?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you saying this isn’t really happening?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Of course it’s happening. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Just because certain events take place outside of canon, it doesn’t mean those events are non-canon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In other words, there is an important distinction between events which can be considered to occur inside canon, outside canon, and those which are not canon at all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The day we went through that door and claimed our reward, we passed a threshold between continua marked by differing degrees of relevance, truth, and essentiality. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Those are the three pillars of canon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose shoots you an irritated look. You know what that look means. It’s reserved for the sort of bozo who just said “what” once too often. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Any event said to take place inside canon will have nonzero values of relevance and essentiality, while maintaining an absolute foundation in truth, by definition.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Whereas events outside canon have diminished values of relevance and essentiality. Or, for the most part, can be considered neither relevant nor essential at all. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But such events can’t be said to be untrue either. Instead, it’s better to regard their truth value as highly conditional. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Are you still following?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Say “oh, yeah. totally.”</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh, yeah. totally.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: So to be clear, everything that’s taken place here on Earth C since we exited canon can be considered completely irrelevant, and for the most part, absolutely inessential. Yet none of it can be called untrue. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: At least, up until precisely today. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then what does non-canon mean?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Events that are formally non-canon have no truth whatsoever, by definition. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: They may have relevance and essentiality values that are nonzero, or even quite high, but only as projections along an imaginary axis, resulting from highly subjective frames of reference.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But due to those events having no truth, and thus carrying no real weight, the other properties are basically rendered meaningless.</p>
    </div>
    <p>You can feel your eyes go wide as the gears in your head slow to a stop. The implications of what Rose is saying are as vast as they are completely incomprehensible. Your mind has just been BLOWN.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Are you okay? Your pupils have gone quite wide, thereby facilitating the appearance that your mind has just been blown.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry, i’m just trying to wrap my head around this.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You of all people really should have a good intuitive grasp over these concepts already. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’re the one with the retcon powers, after all.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i know!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, i mostly get it. i think.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i just wouldn’t have thought to put all of this in such a jargony way.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Sorry. That’s kind of what I do.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s fine. i’m just a bit rusty is all. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it feels like it’s been so long since i did, or even thought about... anything that mattered at all.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes, the longer we live outside of canon, the more tenuous our relationship with canon becomes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Hence the urgency.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: then what’s going to happen if we keep dragging our feet?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I mentioned that events outside canon have a truth value that tends to be conditional, remember?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: um.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Well, I did. But let me put it another way.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: As long as we live outside canon, everything that happens will technically be “real,” but only conditionally. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: There are certain crucial events inside canon which must happen in order to continue to prop up the legitimacy of events here on Earth C. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And you specifically, John, have a responsibility to make sure those events take place.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: and i take it that means going back and killing lord english?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: His defeat is the keystone to this entire continuity. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Much like his life, in some sick way, governed the overall design of the bridge which that keystone was holding up.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But without it, all of this falls apart. Every thing we’ve been through, in a way that’s impossible for a single mind to fully comprehend, becomes retroactively discredited. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so... reality will be destroyed, or something?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: hasn’t that already sort of happened?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, when all the black space started cracking?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: No, this consequence isn’t physical, or even a disruption of the timeline. It’s more of a conceptual unraveling.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: If you miss the chance to authenticate canon events, something will take place that’s a bit difficult to describe, but I’ve encountered a term for it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s called “dissipation.”</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Like, a notional fading. As if something, somewhere, is undergoing a process of “forgetting,” and we are what is being forgotten.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: All ideas, people and their full potentialities, possible outcomes and their specific unfolding, all these things live inside conscious frameworks. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The further removed we get from authentication of canon events, the less relevant they become, and they slowly fade from the conscious frameworks which kept them stable.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Make a theatrically startled expression.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, i guess we don’t want THAT to happen.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: or... unhappen. whatever.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: so i just retcon-poof back to english and start like...</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: brawling with the dude?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t last a second.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’ll need a team.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Also, you don’t want to just dive headlong into a battle with his hulking adult form. That would be tactically foolish, and furthermore, would skip over some very important steps needed to authenticate canon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like what?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I mentioned that English’s defeat was the keystone to the continuity. But this is an oversimplification.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yikes. well, we sure as fuck wouldn’t want to simplify anything.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John, please don’t be a bitch. I’m unwell, remember?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: sorry.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The true keystone, which is a necessary component of his defeat, is the juju.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The house-shaped object you stuck your hand in to gain your retcon powers.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh yeah.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: While empty, it resembles a gap. Like a hole in canon, whose only purpose is to be filled.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In serving that purpose, it grants one with the radical canon-altering powers that would be needed to fill it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Once filled, it becomes solid. No longer a gap, but a serviceable, load-bearing wedge in our continuity.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Like a keystone.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And once delivered to English and directed his way, it empties itself again, releasing its narrative-bridging payload. It functions as a weapon, and in some manner will bring about his demise.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: in some manner?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It’s a complicated artifact. As old and unfathomable as anything else in Paradox Space, like the green sun, or English himself. Don’t worry about it for now.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: The important thing is that, in the due course of your travels, you end up loading and unloading this weapon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how am i going to do that?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Once you set things in motion, it should just happen naturally through the narrative momentum of your journey. I’m really just warning you about it, rather than instructing you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok. thanks??</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’re welcome.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose looks at her phone. You recognize Kanaya’s distinct typing style in the window. Rose’s thumbs begin to fly across the keypad. She continues to text as she talks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so if we’re going to go back and kill him in time to “authenticate canon,” i guess we have to get going soon.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like today?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: are you sure you’re actually up for a fight though? no offense, but you’re looking a little worse for the wear.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I’m not going.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: None of us are. Only you.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?? but you said... </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: John, this is the victory state. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what the hell does that even mean.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: When we went through the door, and passed beyond the threshold of canon, we effectively retired from bearing any responsibility for influencing canon events. We’ve all been sort of decommissioned as active players on the cosmic stage, with severely diminished relevance attributes. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: All of us except for you, of course, since you’ve retained your retcon abilities.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ok, i get that. kind of. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but... couldn’t you all just come along anyway?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: We could. But it wouldn’t serve any purpose.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It wouldn’t plug up the remaining dark spots in canon. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’ll need a group of active players. Those still stuck inside the stream of canonic karma.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: who?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Nothing too extravagant. Just different versions of us. </p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Younger versions, from a particularly dysfunctional impasse in our journey.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I can point out the exact moment in canon you should be disrupting, and how you should disrupt it.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: In fact, I’ve already written it down to spare you the trouble of remembering.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose leads you back inside and retrieves a letter from her desk. She hands it over, still typing one-handed on her phone. She sits down and you read the letter.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Is anything confusing about my instructions?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: no, i remember all this. it shouldn’t be a problem. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s just weird to think about revisiting this. it seems like an eternity. like... we were all completely different people back then.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I assure you we are all still fundamentally the same bunch of losers.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose is ultimately right about that, the way she is about most things. You continue to scan the letter, and grimace slightly.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: should i really punch her in the face?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i felt kinda bad about it, last time i did that to someone.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes. You absolutely should, and must, punch her in the face.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You exhale and turn the paper over in your hands. The other side is blank. You flip it back over, having fully processed the instructions drafted in the polished purple handwriting. You like how Rose still writes in purple, after all these years. Some things never change.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: alright. this seems straightforward enough.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean, aside from the part where we all have to fight an invincible monster.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: He isn’t entirely invincible. He will be vulnerable to Dave’s weapon. I believe other gambits should present themselves as well.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t think it would serve the mission well for me to tell you exactly how it will go.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: But at least I can offer this bit of encouragement.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: If you follow my instructions, English will be defeated.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: It is an absolutely essential outcome.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: And essential, if you’ll remember, is the word we should be using instead of good.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i see you’re advising we go after him when he’s young...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i guess that makes sense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: go get him before he gets all big and strong.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, kind of a surprise attack?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Sure.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that dude sucks. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: he was taunting me a while back. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: like, i think he WANTS me to come fight him?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: anyway, i just ignored him obviously, because i’m not a stupid idiot.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but i guess today will be his lucky day.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You take a seat next to Rose on the couch.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Examine your friend.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Her eyes are closed and her hands are folded in her lap. She’s not asleep, but she looks wasted—like all the life in her has been sucked out through a straw. Like she’s insubstantial. When you were kids you always thought that Rose Lalonde had all the answers, that she could fix any problem with a wall of text and a witty rejoinder. You guess that much about her hasn’t changed. She’s still trying to solve the problems you all left behind. You can’t believe how sick she looks. How did this happen to her?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i should probably get going and let you rest.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: we can talk all about it when i get back. i’ll fill you in on how it went, hopefully you’ll be feeling better by then.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Oh. Um.</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yeah.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: is something wrong?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose opens her eyes and looks at you, but she says nothing. Just looks.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i’m not scared, if that’s what you’re worried about. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you already said we’re going to defeat him. so, nothing to fret over, right?</p>
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Yes. You...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Something flickers through her eyes, almost too quick to catch. When she smiles at you, it’s warm and sincere.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: You’re going to do great.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Rose slides her arms around you. After a while, she releases you from the embrace and gets up to fetch her bottle of pills. She pauses at the bedroom door to look at you one more time.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="rose">ROSE: Goodbye, John.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She closes the door behind her.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Look at the letter.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Your run your thumbs along the edge of the paper. Is this really it? One hug from Rose and you’re off to face your destiny? The instructions in the letter are clear, but you aren’t sure precisely what to do next. Inertia and indecision keep your feet planted firmly on the carpet.</p>
    <p>Then, as if directly answering your quandary, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s a text from Roxy.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Read text.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">It sounds important. You get up to go without even thinking about it. You exit through the sliding glass door and leave it open behind you. </p></div>
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    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm--md">I</span>t’s a beautiful day in the Carapace Kingdom, just like it was in the Human Kingdom and just like it was in Salamander Village. For whatever faults this paradise you created might have, you sure don’t hear many complaints about the weather. You’re sitting with Roxy and Calliope on a giant, chessboard-pattern tablecloth. It’s a nice touch, you think. But if you spent any time shopping in the Carapace Kingdom, you’d know most things you can buy are chess themed. </p>
    <p>Friendly carapacians go about their day around you, passing through the park with their eyes politely averted as they pretend not to notice that three celebrities are having lunch in the grass nearby. It’s extra polite of them, because you and Roxy are having a very personal conversation. </p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: she looked alright. mostly just tired. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: at least she seemed to have enough energy to babble at length about philosophical gibberish, and things about canon and such.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: lmao</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: guess she filled you in on all the ultimate self junk then</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: the what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: the shit where she starts knowing everything and feelin bad</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: oh. that’s not the term she used. she just kept describing it as a condition.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: you haven’t been feeling anything like that, right?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: what getting to know my ultimate self?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: man ive barely got a hold of my basic ass self</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: heh.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: yeah, she said she was the only one going through this, that she knew of.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: poor rose.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: at least all that medication seems to be keeping her sort of functional.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Roxy gives you a serious, sidelong glance. </p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Remember that whole totally unprovoked spiel Rose gave you about substance abuse.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: she said it wasn’t like that! </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i mean... she said it was under control. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: well, what the fuck do i know. the only illicit substance i’ve ever done is lick that STUPID trickster lollipop.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: NEVER AGAIN.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah w/e</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: cant say its much my business anymore</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: rose and i arent as close as we used to be</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You nod, sort of knowingly, because you’re thinking about how you hadn’t talked to Rose in ages either. Roxy gives you a quizzical look, but you turn away before she can draw meaning from it.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: maryams been keeping her real busy since they got hitched</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: they both vanished down the brooding caverns and that was p much that</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: only since she got sick and spent more time at home did we start talkin more again</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: its been great but our conversations have been a lil bit upsetting </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">And, here it comes. The thing you were trying to avoid thinking about the moment Roxy texted you, about how you haven’t talked to Roxy in ages either. You were having such a nice time ignoring that fact, too.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Change the subject.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: so, are you and callie still living at the same place i last saw? the one near the tower?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You look towards the bell tower in the distance. It’s a gothic building so tall that it cuts a shadow through the midday sun. It’s an important landmark in the kingdom—the tallest structure for miles around—and the only way you can ever navigate your way here flying. Carapace architecture is otherwise identic, a reflection of their functional, collectivist society.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yup</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s cool.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it’s a nice place.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: yeah i like it here</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: ive thought about it but ill probably never wanna live in a different kingdom</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: still feel most at home around the chess guys</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: makes sense.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: that’s about how i feel about the salamanders.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: which... i realize actually makes no fucking sense.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: haha</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: they lead simple lives. </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: i don’t really care for the chaos of human or troll cities.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: neither do we</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">You watch Roxy smile and reach for Calliope’s hand.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Look away before you start dwelling on it.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You start dwelling on it immediately, looking probably quite conspicuous with how quickly you whipped your gaze away. But seriously, what <em>is</em> up with their relationship? Is it romantic? Platonic? Can cherubs even have a romantic relationship? Are they even <em>interested</em> in it, like, on a fundamental level? Do their brains and hearts even work that way? Questions like this used to keep you awake at night.</p>
    <p>You look at them, at where Roxy’s fingers are entwined with Calliope’s green claws. Calliope is still wearing the Ring of Life. The same one you obtained in a ludicrous adventure through the afterlife, and then re-obtained in a ludicrous adventure through canon when it was stolen from you. It’s the same one that allowed Calliope to stop being dead in the first place, and to come live with your friends here on your beautifully renovated home planet. And it’s the same one you gave Roxy all those years ago, to fulfill a promise made to a very special new friend.</p>
    <p>At the time, the gesture felt so important. It felt more meaningful than any gift you’d ever given. Like there was some grand emotional gravitas about it that signified something deeper than... than what it turned out to be. </p>
    <p>You have since concluded you were just imagining things. Ascribing symbolic meaning to gestures that they simply didn’t carry, like the dumb kid you were.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Tactfully avoid saying anything at all about Roxy and Calliope’s weird, ambiguous relationship.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: uh, so...  </p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">But you can’t stop thinking about it. What goes on in Roxy’s head. What she thinks about you. </p>
    <p>You and all your friends have dispositions affected by your classes and aspects. You think you know what that means in your case. But what about her? You can only speculate. Void is a place where things sink and disappear. Where they linger forever, but cease to exist. You aren’t actually sure if your feelings for Roxy ever really faded, or if they just grew numb with time and distance. Is it the same for her?</p>
    <p>You search your soul for the answer, but come up empty. The truth is, you suspect her mental interior is unfathomable. In fact, you feel sure of it. </p>
    <p>You wonder suddenly, watching her. This version of her, that is. The one with whom you share all these bittersweet memories—will you ever see her again?</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: ahem.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: john!</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: please forgive me if i come across as impatient. bUt if we are finished with the pleasantries, i believe yoU have a choice to make.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: huh?</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: the choice as to whether yoU will go defeat my brother, or stay here.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: have yoU decided yet?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: there’s a choice??</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope is smiling brightly, but Roxy’s face has no expression at all.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="john">JOHN: i was just assuming i had to go.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: because if i don’t, then...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: a lot of stuff will stop being real. or i mean, stop being canon?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: to tell you the truth, i’m a little confused about what will happen if i don’t go.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: but it sounds like it will probably be bad!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: that may be so. </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: we are not here to caUtion yoU aboUt the conseqUences of yoUr decision either way.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: bUt there is always a choice!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: roxy and i merely wished to invite yoU here for a nice hUman picnic, and show oUr sUpport for whichever decision yoU make.</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: tbh its a relief to finally be doin this</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: it is?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: mm hm</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: how much have you actually... talked about this? i mean, how many people knew this was going to be a thing?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: just us and rose. well dirk too i think</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: shes been talkin to me about it a bunch</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: and him too but i dunno how much</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: hes got like</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: “thoughts” about all this shit</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: but whatever thats not important or even remotely surprising</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: bottom line, rose has been tormenting herself about having to tell you</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: im just glad she finally said it so she can rest</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: now its up to you</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: yes. take all the time yoU need.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: again, we aren’t here to inflUence yoU. it’s very important that the decision come from yoUr desire to go throUgh with it, one way or another.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: any tampering coUld taint the resUlts.</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: taint the...  </p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: wait, what?</p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: so whatll it be john</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">A chill runs through you and stays there.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Consider the gravitas of this choice.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You try, but you can’t, because you weren’t really prepared for it. You didn’t think it was a choice at all until this very second. You think back to the way Rose looked at you before she went to bed. What has she told Roxy that she didn’t tell you? The chill tightens around your throat and turns into fear. </p>
    <p>No, not fear. The feeling is worse than that. It’s <em>regret</em>. </p>
    <p>You wasted your time here on this idyllic restoration of Earth. Why did you spend so much time alone? Moping around the house mourning your dead father, who probably would have wanted you to get more enjoyment out of your teen years, as well as your unusually early retirement. There’s so much you could have done. You could have even reached out to Roxy again; maybe she was waiting for you to do that. Maybe your withdrawal hurt her. Maybe she was heartbroken, just like you kind of feel right now. You study her perfectly stoic face and conclude nothing from it. Her expression reminds you of how Dave used to look, when you first met for real, before years of living with Karkat softened him up. Impenetrable cool. </p>
    <p>It’s too late to figure any of this out now. You fucked it up already.</p>
    <p>Unless, of course, you choose to stay.</p>
    <p>Upon further examination, you realize that Roxy’s stoicism isn’t cold. There’s concern there. She is displaying restraint, keeping quiet while you make up your mind. You’re sweating, you realize. Cold sweat. Even worse than the anime nightmare sweat you woke up soaked in this morning.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: john u ok?</p>
    <p class="john">JOHN: ... </p>
    <p class="roxy">ROXY: looked like you were gonna pass out there for a second</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Suddenly, Calliope bolts upright.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: of coUrse! what was i thinking.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: this decision is far too important to be made on an empty stomach.</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">She fetches the picnic basket, which naturally has been sitting there on the tablecloth since the moment you arrived.</p>
    <div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small--md">
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: here, before yoU choose which path yoU’re going to take, yoU shoUld decide what yoU’d like to eat!</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: i have packed a wide variety of provisions. easily enoUgh to satisfy even the most ravenoUs picnic-goer’s appetite.</p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: behold, an array of savory delights for the carnally inclined. </p>
    <p class="calliope">CALLIOPE: or perhaps something for yoUr sweet tooth, if a lUst for treats is what stokes yoUr desire?</p>
    </div>
    <p class="no-indent">Calliope produces two dishes from the basket and begins gingerly unwrapping them. The unwrapping is so ginger, in fact, that there’s something almost dramatic about it. Like the opening theme to that boring sci-fi movie with the monolith and the bone-throwing monkeys should be playing as she peels away the cheesecloth. </p>
    <p>On one plate is a pile of meat: rare, almost bleeding cuts from animals you can’t identify. The other plate holds a generous heap of colorful, exotic-looking candy. You scoot to the side and peek into the basket to see if there’s anything else. There’s a book in there, but no more food. This is all there is.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; Contemplate your lunch.</p>
    <p class="no-indent">You put a finger to your lips and focus on the food with great intensity. You stop fretting about choices, and heartbreak, and eternity, and Lord English. Your entire world narrows to a single point of light as you are utterly consumed by the overbearing decision about which of these absurd meals to have for lunch.</p>
    <p class="Command">&gt; MEAT or CANDY?</p>
    <p class="no-indent">Meat or candy. The two possibilities pinball around your skull. Meat or candy. It’s a tough choice. On any other day you might be inclined to simply follow the whims of your cravings, but no clear victor surges to the forefront of your mind.</p>
    <p>Either option offers a tempting means of sustenance. You know the meat will be rich and filling, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you haven’t had the most robust diet as of late. You didn’t even have breakfast. It’s probably a good idea to eat something resembling a real meal for once.</p>
    <p>But you’re no stranger to Calliope’s tastes, as far as carnivorous comestibles are concerned. You know every cut on that plate is rare to the core. It’ll fill your mouth to bursting with juice, lie heavy on your stomach for hours to come as your body works to break down all the nutritious protein and fat.</p>
    <p>It might be tough to chew. It might be even tougher to swallow.</p>
    <p>Maybe the candy is the better choice for a picnic like this. Something that’ll go down easy and fill you with bright energy as you pass the time with your friends. You know you need to just let go sometimes, and stop worrying so much about what other people expect of you. Or even what <em>you</em> expect of you. It’s not a bad thing to enjoy yourself just for the sake of pleasure.</p>
    <p>But eat too much and all that sweetness could make you sick.</p>
    <p>Roxy and Calliope glance at each other in confusion as you deliberate over what to eat. You suppose it’s taking you a while to choose, but each dish is appealing enough in certain ways. Each has its potential dietary drawbacks. You don’t want to make a decision you can’t stomach.</p>
    <p>Meat or candy, John. Meat or candy?</p>
    <p>You release your breath when you realize you’ve been holding it. You’re being ridiculous. What’s the sense of fussing over lunch? In the end, it really doesn’t matter. Whatever you choose, it’ll all be flushed down the toilet tomorrow.</p>
    <p>Just go with your gut. Don’t sweat the small stuff. There are much more important things out there to fuck yourself up over.</p></div>
    <div class="flex flex-wrap pad-b-lg type-rg type-sm--md">
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    <a href="/epilogues/meat/1"><img alt="Meat 140x140" src="assets://archive/epilogues/resources/meat_140x140.png"/></a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/1"><h3 class="pad-t-0 type-center type-hsep-header line-solid type-lg">MEAT</h3></a>
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    <a href="/epilogues/candy/1"><h3 class="pad-t-0 type-center type-hsep-header line-solid type-lg">CANDY</h3></a>
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    <h2 class="pad-t-lg pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-ao3-header line-tight type-lg">The Homestuck Epilogues

        <h3 class="pad-t-sm pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-ao3-header line-tight type-rg">Andrew Hussie, Cephied_Variable, ctset</h3>
    <h3 class="pad-x-lg--md type-center type-hsep-ao3-header line-solid" style="font-size:13px; padding-top:12px;">Additional Contributions by Lalo Hunt and Aysha U. Farah</h3>
    </h2></div>
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    <div class="mar-x-auto disp-bl bg-white pad-t-md" style="max-width:650px;">
    <div class="ao3-wrapper mar-x-0 mar-x-md--md mar-y-0 mar-y-md--md pad-y-md pad-x-md pad-x-0--md">
    <div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm--md line-caption line-copy--md pad-x-0 pad-x-lg--md pad-b-lg"><div class="flex flex-wrap">
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label mar-t-md--md">Rating:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field mar-t-md--md">Mature</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label">Category:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field">F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label">Fandom:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field">Homestuck</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label">Characters:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field">

        John Egbert, Rose Lalonde, Dave Strider, Jade Harley, Jane Crocker, Roxy Lalonde,

        Jake English, Dirk Strider, Barack Obama, Aradia Megido, Tavros Nitram, Sollux Captor,

        Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Terezi Pyrope, Vriska Serket, Gamzee Makara, Eridan

        Ampora, Feferi Peixes, Aranea Serket, Meenah Peixes, Davepetasprite^2, Calliope,

        Caliborn, Lord English, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label">Content Warning:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field">

        Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape, The Economy, Xenophobia,

        Pregnancy, Alternate Universe, Mind Control, Non-Con, Breastfeeding, Misogyny,

        Sexism, Transphobia, Misgendering, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Redemption,

        Dubious Consent, Mind Break, World War, Political Intrigue, Robots, Child Abuse, Rough

        Sex, Child Neglect, Alcohol Use, Breastmilk, Death, Incestuous Undertones, Mental Illness,

        Suicide, Polyamory, Clown Dynamics, Meta, Abuse, Fridging, Genocide, Diapers, Murder, Honk,

        Children, Gender Transition, Depression, Toxic Masculinity, Sexual Abuse, Friends to Lovers,

        Speciesism, Babies, Manipulation, Gore, Infidelity, Marriage, Nonbinary Character(s), Milking,

        Identity Questioning, Feet, Political Rebellion, Fascism, Rapping, Drug Use, Funerals, Religion,

        Eating, Food, Aliens, Possession, Light BDSM, Theft, Furry, Anthropomorphic Characters, Power

        Imbalances, Blood, Trickster Mode, Body Horror, Gerrymandering, Starvation, Cuckolding,

        Interspecies Relationships, Guns, Vore, Assassination, Alien Biology, Detransitioning,

        Chronic Illness, Vomit, Drugging, Cannibalism, Unhealthy Relationships, Capitalism, Eggs,

        Slut Shaming, Black Romance, Kidnapping, Faygo, Bimboification, Poisoning, Teenagers,

        Domestic Abuse, Reality Television, Ovipositioning, Ghosts, Revolutionary Rhetoric, Self-Sacrifice,

        Propaganda, Super PACs, Pica, Early 20th Century Dance Movements, Prison Camps, Existential Crisis,

        Xenophilia, Daddy Issues, Bad Parenting, Addiction, Clown</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-3--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md--md ao3-label">Languages:</div>
    <div class="g-6 g-9--md g-omega--md type-bs pos-r clearfix mar-b-md mar-l-md mar-l-0--md ao3-field">English</div>
    </div>
    <div class="mar-t-md">
    <div class="type-hs-small ao3-label brdr-undrln-black">Summary:</div>
    <div class="type-hs-small ao3-field mar-l-md mar-t-md">Ten years after their adventure began, the heroes are enjoying a well-earned retirement on Earth C. But John still has one last choice to make.</div>
    </div>
    <div class="mar-t-lg">
    <div class="type-hs-small ao3-label brdr-undrln-black">Contents:</div>
    <div class="type-hs-small ao3-field mar-l-md mar-t-md"><a class="ao3-label" href="/epilogues/prologue/1">Prologue</a></div>
    </div>
    <div class="flex flex-wrap">
    <div class="g-3 g-6--md pos-r clearfix type-hs-small ao3-field pad-l-md mar-t-md weight-bold">Meat:

        <div class="pad-l-sm pad-l-md--md mar-t-sm"><a href="/epilogues/meat/1">Epilogue One</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/9">Epilogue Two</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/14">Epilogue Three</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/18">Epilogue Four</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/28">Epilogue Five</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/33">Epilogue Six</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/38">Epilogue Seven</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/43">Epilogue Eight</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/meat/44">Postscript</a>
    </div>
    </div>
    <div class="g-3 g-6--md pos-r clearfix g-omega type-hs-small ao3-field mar-t-md weight-bold">Candy:

        <div class="pad-l-sm pad-l-md--md mar-t-sm"><a href="/epilogues/candy/1">Epilogue One</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/4">Epilogue Two</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/14">Epilogue Three</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/16">Epilogue Four</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/22">Epilogue Five</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/27">Epilogue Six</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/29">Epilogue Seven</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/39">Epilogue Eight</a><br/>
    <a href="/epilogues/candy/41">Postscript</a>
    </div>
    </div>
    </div></div>
    </div>
    <div style="height:20px"></div>
    </div>
    </div>